The day after Mal’s telling off, Leanne arranged to meet Kathryn Parker and her daughter, Amelia, at the Bridgewater Inn. It was midweek so they had their choice of tables, and opted for one by a window. The menu offered standard pub fayre, but the view was better than most. The beer garden backed onto the Bridgewater Canal and had moorings for boat trippers, who could access the pub via a gate next to a play area.
The now ten-year-old survivor was more interested in the reporter than the view, and as Leanne returned from the bar with a glass of lemonade, two J2Os, and no fresh information about Karin Gallagher from the barman who had served her, she was being eyed cautiously.
‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? How about an ice cream sundae?’ she suggested.
Amelia shook her head.
‘This is fine,’ Kathryn said, taking their drinks.
Leanne placed her phone in the centre of the table with the voice recorder running. After a nod of approval from Amelia’s mum, she began the interview. ‘Do you know why we’re here, Amelia?’
‘We come here for Sunday lunch all the time,’ Amelia replied, choosing to direct her response to her mum. ‘I like looking at the boats.’
‘I heard you were very brave,’ Leanne tried again.
Amelia pursed her lips around the paper straw poking out of her lemonade glass.
‘I’ve told Amelia you’re going to find the woman who helped her,’ said Kathryn.
Resting her elbows on the table, Leanne leant forward until she was at eye level with Amelia. ‘I live on a boat,’ she said, as if she had all the time in the world for a cosy chat despite a looming deadline.
To her credit, she had submitted one of her articles to Mal that morning with five minutes to spare, and she didn’t expect him to throw this one back at her. She had emphasised Claudia’s loss and described her gritty determination to put the needs of others before her own, both on the night of the fire and through all the work she had done since. Claudia’s altruism was inspirational and seeing it in black and white had made it harder for Leanne to deny that she might actually be one of the good ones.
Amelia’s straw popped out of her mouth. ‘What’s it like? Do you live there all the time? Do you get seasick?’
‘Yes, I do live on it all the time and no I don’t get seasick, but I do suffer from land sickness now and again.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s where you step onto dry land, but you feel like you’re still bobbing up and down on the water. It can make you feel a bit wobbly,’ Leanne explained, swaying ever so slightly for effect.
When Amelia wrinkled her nose, Leanne knew what was coming. She hadn’t met a child yet who hadn’t asked the next question on Amelia’s lips.
‘Does it have a toilet? Does the poo get flushed into the canal?’
‘Amelia!’ her mum said.
‘It’s OK,’ Leanne replied, laughing. ‘Yes, it has a special toilet with a built-in cassette underneath for collecting the waste. You add chemicals so it doesn’t smell, or at least not too much, and when it has to be emptied, I use a trolley to take it to a disposal unit in the marina where I live. It’s basically a matter of emptying it into another toilet.’
‘Eugh!’
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds. And that’s probably more information than you need to know,’ Leanne said, pulling a face. ‘Why don’t you tell me more about you? I’d like to understand what happened at the theatre. Maybe we could start with why you went, what happened before the fire alarm, that sort of thing.’
‘One of Amelia’s school friends was in the production,’ Kathryn said, to encourage her daughter.
‘Evie,’ Amelia confirmed. ‘She was the white rabbit.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Leanne. ‘I’ve seen her in video clips.’
Recordings of the curtailed performance had been shared widely on social media and, although the videos taken by proud parents during the show weren’t the most harrowing, they were uncomfortable to watch. The sight of a little girl with a pink nose and long whiskers freezing onstage had brought with it a sense of foreboding that resonated with the public, if not the audience at the time.
‘I was just as excited as Amelia,’ Kathryn added. ‘I work on the high street and had been following the theatre renovations for two years. Some of their other shows were a bit pricey, but we snapped up the tickets for the dance school.’ She picked at the label of her discarded J2O bottle, a pained expression on her face.
‘Where were you sitting?’
‘In the stalls,’ she said. ‘In hindsight, I wish I’d paid a bit extra for the seats upstairs in the VIP area. It was less crowded up there, although that didn’t help poor Hilary Clarke I suppose.’
‘Can you remember your seat numbers?’
‘It was Row F,’ said Amelia when her mum struggled to recall the exact location. ‘Mum had the aisle seat. We were on the left, which is stage right, obviously.’
‘Amelia fancies herself as a bit of a director,’ explained Kathryn. ‘She and Evie were always putting on little shows of their own.’
‘We don’t do that any more,’ Amelia said solemnly.
‘Everything changed after the fire,’ her mum agreed. She scraped a nail across the torn label on the bottle, staring at it intently. ‘But Evie’s started back at dance school, so you never know. We might get back to normal one day.’
They were quiet for a moment as they recalled how things used to be. Not everyone’s life could be reset. Leanne cleared her throat. ‘Was it just the two of you?’
‘Yes,’ Amelia replied. ‘We were going to sneak backstage afterwards to see Evie.’
‘It’s good that your friend got out safely.’
As the little girl nodded, her eyes glistened.
Kathryn opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. ‘I was about to say Amelia wasn’t so lucky, but she was luckier than some. I can’t imagine where I’d be now if …’ She shook her head. ‘It feels so random when you look at who made it out and who didn’t.’
‘Yes, it certainly does,’ Leanne said as the names of the victims rolled like a list of credits in front of her glazed eyes.
The youngest victim had been sixteen, the oldest seventy-one. Each person had their place in the world stolen, leaving a gaping hole that couldn’t be papered over with column inches and special edition newspapers. Why did Lois have to be on that list? Leanne’s insides twisted. Mal had been right to ask Frankie to write the victim pieces. Leanne couldn’t do it. She had avoided Lois’s family since the funeral. She was a coward.
Aware that Amelia and her mum were watching the emotion play out on her face, Leanne clenched her jaw. ‘So,’ she said, eyes narrowed, composure restored, ‘do you think you could tell me what happened when the alarm went off? How did you become separated from your mum?’
‘She had to go to the Ladies. I was looking after our coats.’
‘It was a few minutes before the alarm sounded. I had a water infection,’ said Kathryn, needing to explain what pressing need had justified the abandonment of her child. ‘And Evie’s mum was only a few rows in front of us. I told Amelia to go to her if there were any problems, not that I thought there would be. It didn’t cross my mind that … I never imagined.’
Kathryn pressed her lips tightly together. She could say no more with Amelia sitting next to her.
‘When the alarm went off, everyone started pushing past me,’ Amelia said, continuing her story. ‘People kept telling me I had to leave, but I didn’t want to go.’ Her face scrunched up. ‘I had to wait for Mum, so I stayed by my seat.’
Leanne could picture the scene with the help of the footage she had found online. She had watched the initial evacuation with growing frustration. There had been no sense of urgency until the announcement came that the theatre had to be cleared. And even then, people took their time because they expected a second announcement to say the show could be resumed. In the handful of recordings that had continued beyond the moment when the ceiling collapsed and the lights went out, the subsequent footage revealed only jerky images of feet, and inky darkness. Theatregoers were no longer concerned with filming what had been a curious scene. They were fighting for their lives.
‘I was looking up at the ceiling. There was this figure of a woman stuck to it like a squished statue,’ Amelia said, keeping her eyes grounded on Leanne. Her breath had quickened as if she were afraid of what might be lurking above. ‘She came alive. Or I thought she did. Mum says it was probably the smoke making it look like she was moving. Then it went black.’
‘Could you hear anything?’
‘She means she was knocked unconscious,’ Kathryn said.
Amelia glanced at her mum, tears rimming her eyes.
Kathryn shook her head in despair. ‘Our seats were a few rows out from the cover of the circle. There was nothing to protect Amelia. Nothing, and no one.’
‘Can you remember anything that happened after that, Amelia?’ asked Leanne.
Amelia folded her shoulders into a hunch. ‘Bits.’
‘Like?’
‘I remember coughing,’ she said, then made a retching sound as if she could still taste the dust and smoke. ‘I was buried under all this stuff and it was dark. I was so scared. I kept calling out, but I didn’t think anyone would find me.’ There were more laboured breaths. ‘I could smell the fire, but I couldn’t move. I broke my leg and one of my arms too.’
‘It must have hurt.’
A tear slid down her cheek as Amelia gasped for air. ‘I don’t remember.’
Kathryn went to take her daughter’s hand, but Amelia pulled away. Kathryn tried again and, when she managed to grasp Amelia’s hand, they held on to each other tightly. ‘Maybe we should take a moment,’ she suggested.
‘I’m fine, Mum,’ Amelia replied, but her chest continued to heave.
‘You’re doing great.’ Leanne took a slow, deep breath through her nose and out through her mouth, inviting Amelia to do the same. ‘Why don’t you tell me about the woman who dug you out? Would that be OK?’
‘She must have heard me crying.’
‘I would have cried too,’ said Leanne, feeling ridiculous because she wanted to cry now. She was reliving someone else’s memory and it was terrifying. ‘Do you remember her finding you?’
Amelia scrunched up her face. ‘I remember she moved something and I screamed. I thought it was more stuff falling on top of me.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Nice.’
‘Can you describe her? What was her hair like? Was her skin light or dark?’
Amelia took more panted breaths. The next memory scared her. ‘She was grey. She looked like the statue in the ceiling.’
‘She would have been covered in dust,’ Kathryn added.
Leanne kept her focus on Amelia, needing the girl to work harder to fill in the gaps her mum was determined to bridge for her. ‘How about her eyes. What colour were they?’
‘I don’t … I don’t know.’
‘And you’re sure it was a woman?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’ asked Leanne.
‘She had a nice voice.’
‘Did she have an accent? Maybe a weird one like mine,’ Leanne said with an encouraging smile that hid her frustration. Mal wasn’t going to get his reunion based on such scant information.
‘I don’t know, I don’t remember,’ Amelia said. Her next series of breaths were jagged, the need to breathe fighting an attempt to hold back tears. She still had hold of her mum’s hand and allowed Kathryn to pull her close.
‘It’s OK, you did really well,’ Kathryn said, a signal that the questioning was over.
‘Sorry,’ Amelia mumbled.
‘Don’t be. Your mum’s right, you’ve been really brave.’
‘Not as brave as the lady who saved me. You will find her, won’t you?’ Amelia said, fresh tears threatening. ‘I have to say thank you to her.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Do you want to go outside and play for a bit, get some fresh air?’ Kathryn suggested. ‘I’ll watch from the window and I won’t take my eyes off you. I promise.’
Amelia gave her mum a stern look that Kathryn felt compelled to explain after her daughter had set off for the swings. ‘She hasn’t forgiven me for leaving her,’ she said. ‘And I can’t say I blame her.’
‘This wasn’t a tragedy you could have foreseen. You are not responsible,’ Leanne said, as the familiar taste of bile rose in her throat. ‘It was the job of the people who renovated the theatre to make sure it was safe. Unfortunately, they spent too much time choosing the right shade of velvet for the curtains to worry about adequate fire exits.’
‘I did try to get back to her,’ Kathryn said, unwilling to shift the blame. She looked down at the phone recording her confession. ‘I was in the Ladies when the alarm went off. I hurried back to the foyer, but an usher stopped me from going any further. I shouldn’t have listened to him.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to rewrite history. She grabbed her empty bottle of J2O and looked as if she might throw it. ‘In that short window of opportunity, I could have pushed past the people coming out of the auditorium, but I didn’t. I should have, but I didn’t.’
‘It must have been hard, waiting for her.’
‘I tried to stay calm. The usher said it could be a false alarm.’
‘Which explains why you stayed where you were.’
Kathryn’s laugh was bitter. ‘You can wrap it up how you like. I knew Amelia would be panicking, and that was before …’ Her mouth moved, but it took a moment for the words to come. ‘The whole building shook like there was an earthquake. The lights in the foyer flickered at the same time the noise hit me, and I was plunged into this awful nightmare. I can still hear the screams.’ A hand went to her chest. ‘I shouted for Amelia until I was hoarse. I ran between the two sets of double doors. Back and forth, back and forth.’ She gasped for air from the imagined exertion. ‘People were running out, others were being pushed, and some got trampled on. I tried to get nearer, but someone slammed into me and I fell, breaking three fingers. I don’t remember the pain, not the physical kind. I just remember the screams. My screams. I imagined Amelia calling out to me and I couldn’t reach her.’
Kathryn hadn’t taken her eyes from her daughter, who was sitting on a swing. She was watching the two women talk, checking that her mum was being true to her word.
‘She was calling for me,’ Kathryn continued, her voice catching. ‘I should have been there.’
‘When did you find out Amelia was safe?’
Kathryn took a deep, juddering breath. ‘I stayed in the foyer until the firefighters ordered me to leave. There was more chaos outside. A crowd had gathered at the front of the theatre, blocking access for the emergency services, so they herded us towards Victoria Park. There was no way I was leaving, so I sneaked around to the side of the building. There were only stragglers coming out of the fire doors by then, and I saw paramedics working on someone. As I got closer, I realised …’ Kathryn made a choking sound. ‘I thought she was dead.’
‘She was lucky.’
‘No thanks to me,’ Kathryn said, straightening up. ‘It’s the people who got her out that need to be recognised, although I think Rex is fed up with me trying to thank him.’
‘That would be Rex Russell, the man who carried her out?’
‘He’s a lovely man,’ she said, managing a smile. ‘We’ve met a few times since, but he refuses to take any credit for helping Amelia. He says she was simply thrust into his arms.’
‘Hopefully, he can give me a better description of whoever it was. Do you think Amelia would ever recognise the woman if we did find her?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Amelia’s counsellor can’t tell us if the gaps in her memory are from when she was unconscious, or if she’s simply blanked some things out.’ Kathryn chanced a glance away from her daughter when she added, ‘I know Amelia wants to find her saviour, but I don’t hold out much hope. We’ve tried before. We even did a couple of TV interviews, but there was no response. Rex says he didn’t notice if the woman followed him out or not.’
‘You think she’s dead?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘I aim to find out.’