Worried, Sadie set off in search, but was intercepted by Frank Hunter before she’d taken more than a couple of steps.

‘Sadie,’ he said, putting a paternal arm around her shoulder. ‘How are you doing? Rotten business all this stuff with Eddie. I hope Joel’s taking good care of you.’

Sadie fought to maintain her shaky smile. Frank was a big, bluff, old-fashioned guy, the type who still believed that women were the weaker sex and that it was a man’s duty to protect them. ‘We’re surviving.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ He lowered his voice a fraction. ‘If you need a good solicitor, I’ve got a number you can have.’

‘I’m hoping I won’t need one.’

Frank pulled a face. ‘I hope so too, love, but sometimes the police get the wrong end of the stick, if you know what I mean, so it’s always smart to have a fallback position. You hear about all these miscarriages of justice, about innocent people spending years in prison and —’

‘Dad!’ Joel interrupted.

‘What?’

‘Sadie doesn’t need to hear this. She hasn’t done anything wrong and there won’t be any miscarriages of justice.’

‘I was only saying…’

‘Yes, I know what you were saying but there’s no need. It’s fine, okay? Everything’s fine.’

While this exchange was taking place, Sadie was aware of the people around them halting their own conversations and leaning in to listen. She had a sudden scary image of being led away in handcuffs, pleading her innocence while the crowd looked on.

‘So have the police been in touch again?’ Frank asked.

‘No,’ Sadie said. ‘Not since I promised not to leave the country.’

Frank gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Well, I’m sure it will be okay.’

‘It will be,’ Joel insisted.

Sadie turned to him and asked, ‘Have you seen —’ She only just stopped herself from saying Mona. ‘Do you know where Anne is?’

‘I think she’s gone to get a drink.’

‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll see if I can find her.’

Sadie squeezed her way through the crowd, saying fleeting hellos to people she passed but not stopping to talk to anyone. Her eyes darted left and right as she sought out the girl in the navy blue dress. A buffet had been laid out on a long table in the kitchen: cold meats, coleslaw, sausage rolls, sandwiches and plates full of cheese cubes and pineapple squares on sticks. To the right was another smaller table with bottles and glasses.

Sadie poured herself a large glass of wine – she was in desperate need of one – took a gulp and then looked around again. After a while she spotted Mona chatting to a middle-aged guy in the corner, a man she recognised as a journalist on the local rag. Royston, his name was, Peter Royston. Her heart missed a beat. She felt a tightening in her chest as she approached. What was Mona saying? What was she telling him?

She gave a vague nod towards the reporter before addressing Mona. ‘Here you are,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ She put out a hand, intending to pat her on the arm, but then withdrew it again. Somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of touching her.

‘Sadie, isn’t it?’ asked Royston. ‘So sorry to hear about your troubles.’

Sadie gave him a thin smile. ‘Should my ears be burning?’

Royston was a plump oily man with an ingratiating manner. His cheeks were threaded with red veins and long strands of lank brown hair were ineffectively combed over a balding skull. ‘No, no,’ he insisted. ‘Not at all. I was just telling Anne here about the delights of Haverlea.’

‘I didn’t realise there was a fairground,’ Mona said. ‘We should go. I love the fair. Don’t you, Sadie? Don’t you just love it?’

‘It’s all right.’ Sadie glanced at her. There was something about her face, the tone of her voice and her body movements which suggested that if not already drunk she was certainly close to it. But how could she be? She’d only been here for ten minutes. Unless she’d had a few before turning up at the flat. Dutch courage perhaps… or something more like a habit? Sadie remembered the train and the faint smell of alcohol that had wafted off the girl.

‘The waltzers and the stalls and the candy floss. And is there a big wheel?’ Mona asked. ‘I like those.’

‘It’s not very big.’

Mona laughed. ‘Still, we should go. It would be fun. Why don’t we? Just the two of us. What do you think?’

‘It’s a bit dull in the winter. Besides, it’s only open on a Saturday.’

Mona’s face fell. ‘Is it? Oh, that’s a shame. There’s something… I don’t know, kind of magical about them. Don’t you think? Especially at night. They remind me of being a kid. All the best films have fairground scenes in them.’

‘Do they?’ Royston asked. He thought about it for a second and then added, ‘Which ones?’

Mona put her empty glass down on the window ledge and reeled off a list, ticking them off on her fingers: ‘There’s Brighton Rock, The Third Man, The Lady from Shanghai, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, A Taste of Honey, Paper Moon. Oh, there are loads of them.’

‘You’re a fan of old movies then?’

‘Yeah, they’re the best. There’s another one too.’ Mona looked at Sadie and frowned. ‘I can’t recall the title. Do you remember? We were talking about it just the other day. It’s to do with these two guys who meet —’

Sadie instinctively grabbed hold of Mona’s elbow, squeezing it hard as she interrupted. ‘You really must come and meet Joel’s parents.’ She smiled at Royston. ‘Sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I promised I’d introduce them.’

‘Of course not. Nice to meet you,’ he said to Mona. ‘Will you be coming back to see us again soon?’

Mona smiled widely. ‘Yes, I’m sure I will.’

Sadie quickly propelled her away. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she hissed under her breath.

Mona giggled. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t guess, not in a thousand years.’

‘He’s a reporter, for God’s sake.’

‘I know.’

Sadie kept her voice low as she forged a way through the crowd. Even though music was playing and the room was full of chatter, she wasn’t taking any chances. And then the full meaning of what Mona had said suddenly sank in: He wouldn’t guess. Was she still playing games or was she serious? ‘You’re crazy. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.’

‘You invited me. Well, as good as.’

‘What?’

‘You said you couldn’t come to London so I knew I had to come to you. I mean, we need to talk, don’t we?’

‘Yes, I think we do.’

‘I need a drink first.’ Mona gazed down at her hand as if surprised to find that a glass wasn’t in it. She turned abruptly and headed for the kitchen. ‘Come on.’

Sadie trotted behind, not wanting to let her out of her sight. It had been her intention to be in control, the one asking questions, the one putting Mona on the spot, but somehow the balance of power seemed to be shifting. She felt fear flutter in her chest. Now that the moment of truth was drawing close, she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to hear it.

While Mona poured herself a vodka and tonic, Sadie tried to think of somewhere they could talk in private. The conservatory, she decided, was the best option. Rather than going through the living room where she was bound to bump into people she knew, she led Mona through the back door and into the garden instead.

‘It’s cold,’ Mona said, glancing up at the sky. ‘It’s going to snow again. Don’t you think? I like the snow. It makes everything seem… different.’

But Sadie wasn’t interested in the weather. ‘What’s going on?’

Mona looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’ Sadie expelled a sigh of frustration, her breath emerging as a cloud of mist in the icy night air. ‘Sending the book, calling me at the flat, turning up here and pretending to be my friend. I don’t understand. I don’t get it.’

Mona frowned. ‘I’m not pretending anything. We are friends, aren’t we?’