In the absence of any breakthroughs to identify Amelia’s rescuer, Leanne avoided Mal as much as possible. He wanted his hero headline, if not for this weekend’s edition, then in time for the commemorative issue due out on the Saturday before the anniversary. It didn’t look promising, and the only way Leanne could appease her editor was to feed him other stories of bravery so he wouldn’t ask too many questions about what other lines of inquiry Leanne might be pursuing.
‘I’m sure my daughter made it sound more than it was,’ Mrs Brody said modestly as she handed Leanne a mug of tea. ‘I was on my own, you see. Our Rachel couldn’t come because she was eight and a half months pregnant. Not that I mind going out by myself, I’m never on my own for long, and on that night, we all stuck together.’
‘Are you OK to talk about it?’
Mrs Brody dropped down onto the sofa opposite. ‘Ask away.’
During their brief chat on the phone, Leanne had imagined Mrs Brody to be a doddery old woman, but the reality was very different. At seventy-three, Carole was the new generation of pensioner who had hit puberty in the sixties and wouldn’t be seen dead in a twinset and pearls. Her hair was silver with purple highlights, her make-up provided a youthful glow, and her figure was enviable. She had informed Leanne that she had to leave by three o’clock for her Zumba class. She reminded Leanne of her nan, who told tales of swooning over the Rolling Stones, and it gave her a surge of homesickness.
Leanne opened her voice recorder. ‘Perhaps you could start by telling me where you were sitting, Mrs Brody.’
‘Please, call me Carole.’
‘OK, Carole,’ Leanne said. ‘Where were you?’
‘In the stalls, somewhere near the middle. I’m so glad our Rachel wasn’t with me. Can you imagine? Chances are, I wouldn’t be a grandmother right now,’ Carole said. She had her phone in her hand and the deep lines on her brow eased when she found what she was looking for. ‘Curtis Ethan Johnson. Seven pounds nine ounces. She waited such a long time for him. Forty-two she was.’
The phone was thrust towards Leanne and she obliged by scrolling through the photos while her mind placed Carole in the theatre that night. Carole was in the middle, Amelia to the left. She would have liked them to have been nearer. ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said, handing back the phone. ‘Now, you were saying that you were in the stalls. Which exit did you use?’
‘Well, I headed for the one at the back.’
‘Why do you think most people ignored the side exits? Was the signage not good enough? Would you say the staff had been trained sufficiently?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. There was a lot of noise with the alarm, and no one stopped us from gathering up our belongings. I saw people carrying out tubs of popcorn. We thought we had all the time in the world.’ Carole rubbed her forehead. ‘There may have been calls to use the side exits, but I’m glad we were under the circle when the collapse happened. It shook the whole building. We were choking on the dust. Things got bad very quickly.’
‘Can you describe it?’ Leanne asked, wishing the knot in her stomach wouldn’t tighten every time she asked someone this question.
‘It was awful. Just awful. We were getting pushed this way and that, and I knew I had to find another way out or die trying. I’m not afraid to admit it, I thought I was done for. I remember telling myself, “That’s it, Carole, you’re never going to meet your grandchild.”’
‘But you managed to stay calm? Your daughter says you helped others,’ Leanne prompted. Carole’s modesty might be admirable, but it wasn’t going to make a particularly good story.
Carole blushed. ‘Like I said, we stuck together.’ Her voice was a whisper when she added, ‘It wasn’t the time to be alone, and yes, I suppose I helped along the way. I grabbed hold of one young woman and made sure we got out of there. I don’t know what came over me. It was grim determination, pure and simple. I had to live for Curtis, not that I knew he was a Curtis then, or a he for that matter. Our Rachel didn’t want to know beforehand.’
‘And who was the woman you helped?’
‘No idea. She was in the seat next to me and I’d shared my wine gums with her, but I wouldn’t know her name. She was in a terrible state, I can tell you that. Hysterical at one point, but she wasn’t the only one. People had become separated in the confusion, many not knowing if their loved ones had made it out or not. I was glad I’d gone on my own. Outside, I heard a little boy crying out for Mrs Clarke, saying she was trapped, and it broke my heart – especially now we know what happened to poor Hilary.’ She paused for a moment and rubbed her arm as if she had a sudden chill. ‘I saw one man carrying a little girl in his arms. We all thought she was dead, but the paramedics started working on her straight away.’
‘Could it have been Amelia Parker? Did you read about her in last week’s paper?’
Carole pressed her chin to her chest, casting her eyes down to hide her tears. ‘I saw the article. It could very well have been her. God bless whoever saved that child.’
‘I don’t suppose you saw Amelia earlier on?’
‘Sorry.’
While Carole blew her nose, Leanne took a series of printouts from her rucksack. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like you to look at some photos to see if you recognise anyone else.’ She passed Carole an image of Angela Morris. ‘Do you recall seeing this lady? She was someone who became separated from her friends.’
‘Isn’t she one of the victims?’ Carole asked, taking the sheet of paper. It trembled briefly in her hand before she handed it back. ‘No, I didn’t see her, or if I did, I can’t place her. The problem was we were all covered in dust and the emergency lighting wasn’t that strong.’
‘And how about this lady?’ Leanne asked, offering a photo of Lena Kowalski. ‘She’s another one who didn’t make it out.’
‘I’m afraid not. Most of what happened is a blur. I could have come nose to nose with Elvis Presley in one of his white sequined suits for all I know.’
Leanne was ready to leave it there, but her conversation with Beth a couple of days before was playing on her mind. ‘Have you heard of Claudia Rothwell?’
‘Who hasn’t? Did you see her on BBC Breakfast this morning? I don’t watch the other side, that Piers Morgan gets on my nerves.’
Leanne didn’t know about the TV interview, but wasn’t surprised. Claudia was grabbing as much media attention as she could, albeit for a good cause. ‘Do you remember seeing Claudia inside the theatre?’
Carole shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
As Leanne began packing away her things, she tried not to dwell on why she had brought Claudia into this particular conversation. She didn’t seriously think Claudia had anything to do with Amelia’s rescue, even though she couldn’t articulate exactly why. It was a gut feeling.
‘Will my story be in this Saturday’s paper?’
Leanne wasn’t sure there was much of a story to tell, but the idea of a pensioner keeping the crowd calm had a certain appeal. She could make it work, and besides, didn’t Mrs Brody deserve her fifteen minutes of fame along with everyone else? ‘I expect we’ll save it for the weekend after next, which will be our commemorative issue.’
‘Don’t you want to take my picture before you go?’
‘I certainly do,’ Leanne said, retrieving her Nikon DSLR from her rucksack. The Courier had one full-time photographer, and Mal reserved Henry’s professional treatment for the likes of Claudia Rothwell, not Carole Brody. ‘Do you mind if I open your blinds so there’s enough light to show off the lovely colours in your hair?’
‘I can give you the number of my hairdresser if you like,’ Carole promised.
While Carole touched up her make-up, Leanne worked out the right angle to take the photo. Carole had already decided which was her best side and was happy to direct.
‘I tell you who I did see,’ Carole said as she flicked through the images Leanne had just taken.
‘Who?’
‘Well, maybe I didn’t see him exactly, but I did hear his voice.’ Carole handed back the camera, allowing the tension to build. ‘I think the second one will do, don’t you? Or perhaps number eleven?’
‘Second one’s perfect,’ Leanne said, switching off the camera. ‘You were saying, you saw someone?’
‘The bloke who caused the fire.’
Leanne almost dropped the camera. ‘Declan Gallagher?’
‘That’s the one. I didn’t put two and two together at first, and for a long time, I couldn’t think about the fire at all, or what I’d seen. But when I read about him being from Northern Ireland, I knew it had to be him. It was the accent.’
‘But you said it was noisy in there. How can you be sure?’
‘He was calling out to his sister. Her name’s Karin.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Leanne said, not liking that this corroborated the general view that Declan had been looking for his sister. Carole was edging her towards the front door, she had her Zumba class to get to, but Leanne was reluctant to leave. ‘But if you didn’t see him, you might be mistaken.’
‘We were crossing the auditorium to reach the side exit. Bits of ceiling were still falling here and there, and I kept looking up, expecting to be buried alive at any minute. Even through the gloom, I could see up to the circle. It looked half destroyed, but thankfully it was empty. Except for him.’
‘Wait, are you saying Declan was upstairs?’
‘I only saw a glimpse, but I’m guessing I was one of the last to see him alive,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘I feel awful saying it, but it’s probably for the best that he didn’t make it out. If it had been me who killed all of those people, I wouldn’t have wanted to live.’
After saying goodbye to Carole, Leanne came to a stop on the pavement outside. Her thoughts were spinning. Although there were vague reports of someone who might have been Declan arriving at the theatre, Mrs Brody was the first witness to have seen him inside the Empress, placing him where no one expected to find him. What the hell was he doing up in the circle?
As she searched for an answer, Leanne looked up and down the road. The figure of a man caught her attention. He had been leaning against a wall, but straightened when he saw Leanne. He had his phone in his hand and shoved it into his pocket as he strode towards her. Joe had tracked her down.
Leanne’s car was parked at the kerb, but she had to walk towards Joe to get to it. Thankfully, she was nearer, but she lost valuable seconds rooting around in her rucksack for her keys. Her fingers clasped the car fob and, without looking up, she unlocked the car and got behind the wheel. Joe appeared in her peripheral vision and, as she turned the ignition and hit the central locking mechanism, a man’s hand slapped against the window.
‘Leanne! I just want to talk!’
Keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, Leanne pulled away from the kerb. She didn’t look in her rear-view mirror. She wouldn’t look back.