Janie had told DC Marlow her story. At least up to a point. ‘We met by coincidence,’ she said. ‘I saw Mia first, then noticed her grabbing someone’s shoulder. When she spun round, I saw it was Laura.’

The detective had wanted to know what the three of them were all doing there, if they hadn’t arranged to meet, which Janie continued to insist they most certainly hadn’t. This part had been the truth.

She told the detective that Laura had been in the office late – working, Janie assumed. By now it was believed that Laura had been the last person to see Harry and Miles Morgan before the fire. The last person to see Miles alive.

But there was a gap, Marlow kept insisting, between Laura leaving the office and the point when Janie saw her. ‘What was she still doing at the quay? Why hadn’t she gone home?’

The fact was that Janie had never found out why. She couldn’t even remember if the question had been asked. Possibly Mia had asked at some point, as she’d been the one demanding answers, but what Janie was certain of was that Laura hadn’t told them. ‘I don’t know,’ she kept replying, though she knew how dubious it sounded.

And Mia? Yes, Janie knew Mia’s explanation for being on the quayside for that had come out. It had momentarily distracted her attention from the fact that her husband may still have been in the building.

By now the detective had been able to build up a very clear connection between Mia and Janie. But what Emily Marlow had been demanding to know was why the three women weren’t telling her everything. Because she knew they weren’t, and yet it made no sense that one of them, at least, wasn’t speaking.

What Janie hadn’t reckoned on, following that night, was that four days later she’d be sitting in an interview room yet again, only this time under the threat of prison. Marlow was right when she told Janie she couldn’t let it go that far; of course her girls were her priority and she would not jeopardise anything for them.

Marlow was offering her a way out – Janie was sure of it. All she needed to do was tell the truth. ‘Start talking, for God’s sake.’ The detective had said it enough times.

Janie drew in her breath, pressing harder into the cup, crushing it between her fingers.

She would not be charged with the murder of Miles Morgan; she would not give up her life for that man, but at the same time how could she tell the truth?