It was raining when Leanne pulled up in front of a gleaming set of electronic gates in her battered Ford Fiesta. A ten-foot wall enclosed the property and, although it wasn’t far from Sedgefield town centre, there were enough surrounding woods and hedgerows to make it feel like it was in the middle of the countryside. The three-storey new-build contained five luxury apartments, and the penthouse occupying the entire top floor belonged to Claudia Rothwell.
There was an intercom set into the wall next to the gates, but Leanne figured Claudia would have a good view of arrivals and could surely let her in without making it necessary to get out of the car to use the buzzer. Mal had made the arrangements for the interview, and Leanne was not only expected, she was on time. She waited patiently. The gates remained firmly sealed.
Forced out of the car, she grabbed her leather jacket from amongst the detritus on the back seat and held it over her head as she pressed the intercom. Claudia didn’t deign to answer immediately and, when she did, she sounded surprised at the interruption.
Leanne’s features were set grim as she climbed the stairs with her rucksack slumped over her shoulder. Reaching the top floor, she wasn’t surprised to discover the door to Claudia’s apartment firmly closed. She knocked with a tightened fist and, after a short delay, Claudia greeted her with a bright smile that momentarily disarmed Leanne.
Claudia was less polished than the images splashed across Cheshire’s society pages, and she appeared diminutive despite being two inches taller than Leanne. Her dark, raven hair had been tied back in a messy knot, and her brown eyes were smudged with what looked like the previous day’s make-up.
‘God, you’re soaked,’ she said, beckoning Leanne inside and taking her jacket.
There was a pause before Leanne realised she was expected to take off her boots and replace them with the open-toed slippers stacked neatly by the door for guests. Leanne was wearing her Docs and turned away from Claudia as she unlaced them. Her big toe protruded through one of her socks and she pulled both off discreetly before shoving them into her boots. The deep pile carpet felt warm underfoot as she stepped into the white, terry-towelling slippers.
‘Let’s go through to the kitchen and I’ll make you a hot drink,’ said Claudia, leading the way past seven polished oak doors. All closed.
‘Nice place,’ Leanne noted, not needing to see inside the rooms to know her host had expensive taste.
The kitchen confirmed her suspicions. There wasn’t a black quartz surface or hand-polished tile that didn’t shine like a freshly minted coin. It was a bit too ostentatious for Leanne’s liking.
The Rothwells had done well for themselves. They weren’t in the super-rich league of Sedgefield’s finest, but they certainly moved in the same circles. According to Leanne’s research, Claudia’s husband, Justin, was a finance director for a pharmaceutical company and had the benefit of a private education. He was forty years old and had one previous marriage. No children.
There was relatively little information available on thirty-four-year-old Claudia. She appeared to spend her days championing worthy causes between long lunches and evening soirées. She was a Phillipa Montgomery in the making.
‘Make yourself at home,’ Claudia said, pointing to the breakfast table, where two chairs had been positioned at an angle rather than opposite each other. There was a plate of biscuits waiting, including Jammy Dodgers and Custard Creams, which looked as out of place in the current setting as Leanne herself. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee, please.’
‘I hope you don’t mind instant,’ Claudia said, reaching inside a cupboard for a jar of Nescafé and ignoring the French press lurking in the corner.
‘It’s what I’m used to.’
Claudia glanced over her shoulder at Leanne. ‘Me too, if I’m honest,’ she said. ‘Do you take milk? Sugar?’
‘Milk, two sugars.’
Claudia didn’t look the type who was used to associating with someone who consumed unrefined sugar without apology, but if she judged Leanne for her health choices and chubby thighs, she didn’t show it.
‘I love your hair, by the way,’ Claudia said, while they waited for the kettle to boil. ‘I’m too much of a wimp to go for such a striking colour.’
‘Thanks.’
It could have been a backhanded compliment, but Leanne felt an involuntary thrill. She had never been one of the popular girls at school, not fitting the mould reserved for the fortunate few who looked a lot like Claudia. Leanne would have given anything for their approval back then, and had to remind herself that she needed no such endorsement now, especially not from the Rothwells or the Montgomerys of this world.
‘I know I look a mess,’ Claudia said, pulling at the shapeless jumper that magically accentuated her long limbs and sharp cheekbones. ‘I went through loads of different outfits this morning, but decided to wear what felt most comfortable – that’s why I was late answering the door. Your editor said you didn’t need photos today.’
Leanne nudged her rucksack with her foot. ‘I did bring my camera, just in case,’ she said, if only to see Claudia’s features pale. It was a mean thing to do, especially when Claudia was going out of her way to be nice, but Leanne found she couldn’t help herself. ‘Never mind, the office will be in touch to arrange a photoshoot.’
Claudia finished making their drinks and wiped the counter clean before joining Leanne at the table.
‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am,’ she admitted. ‘The anniversary is going to be tough and, although it’s a night we would all rather forget, it feels right doing something to mark the occasion.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s going to be hardest for the families who lost loved ones.’
‘You were there too, I believe,’ Leanne said dispassionately as she checked her notebook. She often used a voice recorder, but only when she was invested in what her interviewee might have to say. For today, her notes would be brief, unless she managed to unpick Claudia’s connection to Phillipa, but all in good time. ‘I presume you were affected by what you saw?’
Claudia fidgeted with the cuffs of her jumper. ‘This isn’t about me. I’d rather talk about the work of the charity.’
‘Which you set up.’
Claudia moved her head from side to side, not quite a nod nor a shake of the head. ‘The Empress Memorial Fund was my idea, but I didn’t know the first thing about establishing a charity, I still don’t. Justin helped create a board of trustees made up of greater minds than mine, and we have a working party who do the actual work. It’s going to be down to them to make this happen.’
Leanne tapped her pen against the blank page, leaving a peppering of blue spots. ‘You’re taking a chance holding it outdoors in the middle of October.’
‘I know, and it’s too much to hope that it won’t rain, but we intend to erect a marquee for the refreshments, as long as it isn’t too windy. We did consider different venues, but there are survivors who won’t want to be part of a large crowd in an enclosed space. Victoria Park seemed to be a good compromise.’
‘Except for those who can’t bear to look at the theatre.’
‘I appreciate the park is close by, but some of the survivors have said they’ll find solace returning to the place where they found refuge that night.’
‘Will that include you?’ asked Leanne. ‘How are you going to feel?’
‘I expect I’ll be too busy for much reflection. I’m more interested in how everyone else will be coping,’ Claudia said, dodging the question again. ‘Your editor mentioned you’re writing a series of features about survivors. I’ve had the privilege of speaking to many of them, and their stories are incredibly moving. It seems that everyone has their own unique way of dealing with their trauma, which is why it’s been doubly hard to find a way to mark the anniversary in a way that’s inclusive and meaningful for everyone. I want the memorial service to reinforce what already exists in the town. A strong sense of community and camaraderie. You’ll see for yourself if you come along.’
‘It’ll be hard to avoid, and not just because of my job,’ Leanne said. ‘I live in Sedgefield.’
‘Oh, sorry, your accent threw me. I can’t quite place it.’
‘I’m originally from Leeds.’
‘What made you move to Sedgefield, of all places?’
Claudia’s expression was open, as if she really wanted to know. ‘I moved for love,’ Leanne said, waiting long enough for the softening around Claudia’s mouth to confirm she had fallen for the trap. ‘Love for myself that is. I was in a toxic relationship, and decided I deserved better, but I couldn’t face moving back in with my parents, so I packed a bag and crossed the Pennines.’
‘Wow, good for you. When did you—’
‘I was here that night,’ Leanne said, forcing the conversation back on topic. ‘Not at the theatre, but I can still taste the smoke that hung in the air for days.’
‘Then you know how difficult it will be to pitch this event just right. Believe me, the working party has been through countless iterations of what could work and what simply won’t do. It’s been hard at times to find a middle ground. We don’t want the service to be focused on any particular religion, but we need to acknowledge individual beliefs. We want singing, but the lyrics have to be carefully considered. We talked about releasing balloons, but there’s the issue of plastic pollution. Fireworks were suggested, but that might trigger some of the survivors. I could go on.’
‘So what will you be doing?’
‘We’ll have a few speeches, some readings, and there’s a local choir to provide the music. We’re also working with local faith leaders so we can signpost anyone who needs individual support, but I’d have to say, the most contentious issue has been whether or not to invite the dance school to resurrect part of their Alice in Wonderland performance.’
Leanne pulled a face.
‘My thoughts exactly, and it isn’t going happen,’ Claudia said, sharing a moment with Leanne as if they were old friends. ‘But we did agree that the dance school should be involved in some way. Rose Peagrave is in charge now, and she’s said that the students are super eager to do something to celebrate the memory of their founder.’
‘Hilary Clarke,’ Leanne said. When Claudia nodded, Leanne decided the time had come to drop another name into the conversation. She hooked a finger around her chin, pen still in hand. ‘It sounds like there are a lot of people involved in your working party. Would Phillipa Montgomery be one of them?’
‘No,’ Claudia replied, unfazed by the name drop. ‘It was deemed inappropriate for Phillipa to be involved, given the nature of my charity, and the ongoing investigation.’
‘Who deemed it inappropriate?’
‘Phillipa.’
‘I see,’ Leanne said, scribbling a note to that effect so that Claudia was left in no doubt that this was an important aspect of her story. ‘Are you a close friend?’
‘Not particularly.’
Leanne was used to hearing this kind of evasion. Phillipa had become a social outcast, and no one wanted to be linked by association. Not that it stopped Leanne from tarring them all with the same brush. ‘But you did socialise with her?’
‘It was hard not to,’ Claudia replied, as if mixing with the rich and infamous was a daily hazard Leanne might relate to. ‘But you couldn’t break into Phillipa’s inner circle except by invitation. I was very much a newcomer, still on probation.’ She stopped abruptly when she noticed Leanne’s pen move. She extended a hand tentatively towards the notepad, stopping short of touching it. ‘Please don’t quote me on that.’
Placing her pen on the table, Leanne signalled her agreement to an unspoken pact. Claudia would continue on the understanding that nothing she said could be attributed to her. Leanne relaxed back into her chair.
‘When Justin and I married four years ago, I was plunged into a world I knew nothing about, and I’m still finding my feet,’ Claudia said in a conspiratorial whisper. It wasn’t only the pitch of her voice that had changed, her accent had become broader too, indistinguishable from the average Sedgefield resident who didn’t care about rounding their vowels. ‘I was a receptionist at his tennis club when we met. There was a mix-up with the bookings and somehow we got talking. I’m pretty sure our paths wouldn’t have crossed otherwise.’
‘I take it you gave up your job.’
Claudia picked up a Custard Cream and offered the plate to Leanne. Leanne took two.
‘I had no choice if I wanted to fit in.’
Leanne raised an eyebrow. ‘It can’t have been that big a sacrifice.’
Claudia cringed. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungracious. I know I’m living a life of privilege compared to some, but it was a huge culture shock. My mum died when I was five, and I was brought up by my dad in a draughty terraced house. Honestly, this isn’t me,’ Claudia said. Her eyes darted to the door as if someone might storm in at any moment and evict her for trespassing on private property.
‘Sounds like a case of imposter syndrome.’
A flush rose in Claudia’s cheeks. ‘It can be quite intimidating, pretending to be something you’re not, and especially when surrounded by the genuine article.’
‘And was Phillipa someone who intimidated you?’ asked Leanne. She wasn’t ready to feel sorry for Claudia, but a note of understanding had crept into her voice.
‘I know she’s had a lot of bad press, but she was a legend. No one but Phillipa would have attempted a project on the scale of the theatre restoration.’
‘And everyone rushed to help, including you, despite not being in her inner circle,’ Leanne noted, refusing to allow Claudia to distance herself completely from Phillipa. She had been snapped at various fundraisers, as well as the grand opening.
‘I’ll admit, I wanted to be involved, and I did help out on occasion, but all the high-profile jobs were ring-fenced for those with more experience and better contacts. I can understand why. As I’m discovering for myself, public relations have to be handled carefully if you want to secure community buy-in.’
And Leanne had been amongst those who had bought into Phillipa’s scheming. She could visualise the front-page headline in the Courier when the theatre had opened a year ago. ‘The Empress Returns.’ There had been a close-up of Phillipa’s face beneath it. ‘Is it true she wanted to rename it as the Montgomery Theatre?’
When Claudia laughed, a tiny crumb from her biscuit trembled on her lip. ‘You shouldn’t believe all the rumours. Phillipa is an indomitable figure, but her ego isn’t quite that big. And despite what happened, I think her original intentions were honourable. She wanted to give something back to her community, and this has broken her.’
The crumb on Claudia’s lip was distracting, and Leanne wiped a finger across her own mouth. Claudia mirrored the move. With the offending crumb dislodged, Leanne asked, ‘Is she still in the South of France?’
‘I believe so.’
‘So much for helping with the investigation.’
‘She did stay for the evidential hearings,’ Claudia reminded her.
The hearings had taken place at the start of the public inquiry. Witnesses had included the incident commander and other officers from the emergency services who were there that night, as well as various expert witnesses. Representatives from the renovation company, Ronson Construction, had given evidence, as had the woman who was responsible for their appointment and so much more.
‘Will Phillipa be back before the findings are published?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, we’re not close.’
‘But with all your charity work, you must be in contact with people who are.’
‘Setting up the Empress Memorial Fund has given me an appreciation of how much of an undertaking charity work can be. You can’t rely on goodwill alone. You have to reach out to people who can make things happen, and some of my contacts are closer to Phillipa than I am.’
Claudia’s voice had risen to a normal level, and her accent was suppressed once more. She couldn’t seem to decide which she wanted more, to be accepted as an average person on the street, or one of the elite. Leanne’s overall impression was that she simply wanted to be accepted, full stop.
‘Bryony Sutherland might be a good starting point, if you can pin her down. She runs a family business so she hasn’t been as involved with the memorial fund as I’d like. It’s been the same with a lot of Phillipa’s friends actually.’ Before Leanne could ask her next question, Claudia answered it for her. ‘If Bryony knows what Phillipa’s plans are, she hasn’t shared that information with me.’
‘So who has been helping you? Anyone from Ronson Construction?’
Claudia uncrossed her legs and sat up straight. ‘No, because we’re not building anything, and when it comes to having the stage and marquees erected, I won’t be using a company under investigation for negligence.’
‘Do you believe they were negligent?’ Leanne asked. When Claudia simply shrugged, she added, ‘Do you know if they were procured appropriately?’
‘You’re asking me questions I’m in no position to answer.’
‘But you must have been aware that the project’s schedule had slipped. The opening had already been delayed. Did Phillipa openly criticise the work, or was she covering for their incompetence?’
Claudia’s fingers began to explore the silver handle of a teaspoon on the table. ‘I couldn’t say. Like everyone else, I’m waiting eagerly to see what comes of the inquiry.’
‘Tell me about Declan Gallagher. Did you know him?’
‘I was aware of him, yes. He came to some of the fundraisers, I believe.’
‘And the night of the fire, did you see him at all?’
‘No.’
Given Claudia’s previous obfuscation about her experience that night, Leanne changed tack. She stopped asking questions and left a pause for Claudia to fill.
Claudia took a breath before deciding to speak. Her expression was pained when she said, ‘You can’t begin to imagine the chaos inside the auditorium, and I’d defy anyone to give a clear account of what they did or didn’t see. I get flashes of memory, people’s faces swimming in front of my vision. There was so much noise, people calling out to each other, children crying, others screaming.’ She lifted the teaspoon and stared at her warped image in its reflection.
Leanne couldn’t ignore Claudia’s distress, but her thirst for answers was impossible to quench. ‘Do you believe Declan went inside to save his sister, or could he have had another motive? There’s a suggestion he needed to get into the offices on the ground floor. Could there have been something in there he didn’t want anyone to see?’
She stopped short of asking, ‘Why are you protecting these killers?’ As Claudia was eager to point out, she had never been inside Phillipa’s circle of trust.
‘I don’t know anything,’ Claudia whispered. Her hands fluttered and, in the process, she knocked the teaspoon off the table and it clattered to the floor. The legs of her dining chair scraped over the tiles as she reached to pick it up.
Leanne’s brow furrowed. Knocking the spoon off the table with trembling fingers could have been a simple accident, but Leanne had been watching Claudia closely. The fumble seemed choreographed.
From down the hall, there came the sound of a door opening, and Leanne had to stop herself from saying, ‘Ah, I see what you did there.’
It wasn’t a mishap. It was a signal.
Tall, with broad shoulders, Justin Rothwell wore a rugby shirt that gave the impression he could cause some damage in a scrum, but his smile was playful, verging on mischievous. His light brown hair had grey accents at the temples, and his hazel eyes were two shades lighter than his wife’s. Leanne couldn’t help but stare. He was beautiful.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he said, extending his hand towards Leanne. ‘I’m Justin.’
Leanne willed her cheeks not to burn. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
‘I’m afraid Claudia has to put up with me working from home today.’
‘He’s been doing that a lot lately,’ Claudia added, catching Justin’s eye. As he moved towards her, she dipped her gaze and he kissed the top of her head.
‘I must like your company,’ he whispered.
Leanne felt a shiver run down her spine. She didn’t do relationships very well, her longest having lasted only eighteen months before she discovered the lying rat had been sleeping around. That particular rat was the reason she had sold her flat and left Leeds. She had given up on love, and was convinced she wasn’t missing anything special – except at moments like this when she saw the real thing in action. Claudia had sent a distress signal, and Justin hadn’t hesitated to respond.
‘I was doing my utmost to keep out of the way,’ Justin explained, ‘but I need a caffeine fix. Would you like a refill?’
‘I’ve barely touched this,’ Leanne said, picking up her drink. She watched Justin over the rim of her cup.
‘I must say, it’s good to have the Courier supporting us – ah, sorry, I should say, supporting Claudia. My name might be on the board of trustees, but I take no credit,’ Justin said, raising his hands. ‘This is all down to my wife.’
‘My editor’s determined to publish some positive pieces,’ Leanne replied. She had tried to inject some enthusiasm into her response, but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. It wasn’t exactly investigative journalism.
‘The paper could play an important part in helping the town heal,’ Claudia said, sounding as if she were one of Mal’s disciples, or was it the other way around?
‘That’s the plan,’ replied Leanne, attempting a smile.
As he waited for the kettle to boil, Justin added scoops of ground coffee to the French press Claudia had hidden away, but his attention remained focused on Leanne. ‘What other stories are you working on?’
‘Ones that will give our readers a sense of the needless loss that night,’ Leanne said, not making the articles sound nearly as positive as Mal envisioned.
‘I was telling Leanne there won’t be a shortage of heroes with stories to tell.’
Justin turned to his wife, spoon in hand. The two locked eyes, and he seemed unaware of the coffee grains raining down onto the floor tiles. ‘If that’s the case, she needn’t look further than this room.’
The air became charged, and Leanne straightened up. ‘What do you mean?’
Claudia pursed her lips as if she were about to object, but with a sigh, her shoulders sagged. She left it to her husband to explain.
‘Claudia was meant to be a mystery shopper that night,’ Justin began. ‘Phillipa gave out complimentary tickets to all her friends for different shows. She wanted feedback on their experience.’
‘Friends?’ Leanne asked, seizing on the contradiction with what Claudia would have her believe.
‘I was very much at the bottom of her list,’ Claudia said. ‘I was sent along to the only amateur performance in the theatre’s schedule.’
‘She wasn’t happy,’ added Justin playfully. ‘She didn’t even get seats in the VIP area.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, that sounds crass, given what happened.’
It did sound crass, but Leanne knew what he meant. She hadn’t seen the attraction of spending an evening watching a group of school kids prancing about on a stage either. ‘None of us knew what was going to happen.’
He sighed. ‘If only we had known. Claudia had two tickets, but I was working late and she went on her own. I could have tried harder to rearrange my schedule, but the first I knew of the fire was when I was driving home and a couple of fire engines sped past.’ Justin lowered his voice, but Leanne heard it crack when he added, ‘I should have been there for her.’
‘What happened?’ Leanne asked, directing the question back to Claudia, who wouldn’t meet her gaze.
‘I was no different to anyone else. The evacuation started off so calm and orderly,’ she said, repeating what so many others had said at the time. Not one person had suspected the alarm to be anything more than an inconvenient fire drill. ‘I was in the stalls and headed out the way I’d come in, but there was a long queue. When the ceiling collapsed and the lights went out, people started screaming and scrambling on top of each other.’
‘We act on instinct,’ Justin said, when Claudia could no longer continue. ‘We have competing needs of self-preservation and a primal desire to protect our group, the group being our friends, our family and our neighbours. Claudia managed to get to the side exit, but held back longer than she should to make sure everyone else was safe. I’m sure by now you’ve realised my wife’s overriding compulsion is to help others.’
‘No, Justin,’ Claudia warned. ‘Don’t make me out to be something I’m not.’
‘Then don’t deny what you did.’
‘I don’t, but if I’d known how much I’d hurt you in the process,’ she said, holding her husband fiercely in her gaze.
‘Us,’ he corrected.
For a time, only the sound of Claudia’s shallow breaths could be heard. Leanne needed to know. ‘What’s this about?’
Claudia shook her head slowly from side to side, pain contorting her features. The smudged make-up gave the impression of shadows beneath her damp eyes. ‘I didn’t think through what I was doing. I was so stupid! If I’d known …’
‘I found Claudia wandering around Victoria Park amongst the other survivors,’ Justin explained. ‘She was obviously suffering from shock, but she hadn’t sought help. She didn’t want to waste anyone’s time, but I insisted she was seen by one of the paramedics. We were advised to make our own way to the hospital so she could be checked out for any effects of smoke inhalation.’ He stopped to take a breath. Meanwhile, Claudia had pressed her hand to her mouth. Whatever he had to say was killing them both. ‘And because she was two months pregnant.’
Claudia swallowed hard. ‘Compared to some of the others they were pulling out of the theatre, I was fine.’ She laughed bitterly as she stabbed a finger to her chest. ‘I was fine. Just me.’
Leanne knew what was coming and yet she searched the room for confirmation that a baby lived there too, one that would be four months old by her reckoning.
‘We lost it,’ Claudia said when she noticed Leanne’s hopeless search. Her voice was hollow. ‘Not on that night, but within days.’
‘Oh,’ Leanne said. For a second she thought only of how this was going to mess up the dry piece she had intended to write about the woman of privilege behind the memorial fund. It took an indecent amount of time for the grief etched on the faces of Claudia and Justin to finally register. What was wrong with her? Leanne reached over to place a hand on Claudia’s arm. ‘I’m so sorry.’
The small gesture appeared to be too much, and Claudia’s chest heaved as she fought to hold back a sob. Justin was there in a second, crouching down so their foreheads touched. ‘It’s time to acknowledge the Empress took another victim that night,’ he said.
‘But it wasn’t the fire that killed our baby, it was me,’ Claudia replied, anger clenching her words.
‘No, sweetheart, no! If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. It shouldn’t have taken a tragedy to make me realise how precious you are to me. I should have been there.’
This last comment pierced Leanne’s cold heart. Survivor guilt at its worst. It was all too much, she needed to leave. She picked up her notepad and shoved it into her rucksack.
Still holding on to his wife, Justin turned his head towards her. He no longer looked like a burly rugby player, his loss had diminished him. ‘We want people to know. It’s time.’
Leanne nodded. ‘I’ll be in touch if I need anything else,’ she said, rising to her feet.
Justin went to follow her, but Claudia held him back. ‘I’ll see Leanne out,’ she insisted.
In the time it took Leanne to lace up her Doc Martens, Claudia had composed herself. ‘I never wanted to go public,’ she explained. ‘That’s not why I agreed to this interview. I’m only interested in raising money for the charity and letting people know about the memorial service.’
Leanne believed her. ‘I shouldn’t worry. I imagine your story will generate lots of support for your cause.’
Claudia didn’t appear convinced. ‘Could you do me a favour? Don’t over-egg it. I’m scared people will think I’m looking for pity, and I’m really not. Mention the miscarriage if you must, but no one needs to read some tragic backstory of how my mum died when I was little. It’s what’s happening in the present that’s important. There are those suffering so much more right now.’
‘I won’t mention your childhood,’ Leanne said, eager to do whatever Claudia asked, despite herself.
Claudia pressed a business card into Leanne’s hand. ‘You’ve been so good. I was dreading today, but I’m glad it was you I spoke to. I promise, I’ll send you over the press release when it’s ready, but ring me any time, if you have questions.’
Once outside, the slap of cold rain on Leanne’s face gave her a jolt. Mal had tasked her with finding heroes, but this had been the last place she had expected to find one. Claudia had gone against every one of Leanne’s preconceptions. She didn’t like how much she liked her.