The Three Pheasants Hotel was a Georgian mansion house on the outskirts of Sedgefield surrounded by rolling hills and dense woodland. A popular venue for weddings, it had a decent-sized car park, but Leanne had to do two circuits through driving rain before she found a free parking space.
Swept into reception by a howling wind, she was hit by a cloud of warm, scented air wafting from the hotel’s exclusive spa, but relaxation was furthest from Leanne’s mind. She was directed to the largest conference suite where a podium had been erected in front of row upon row of chairs. The place was rammed with fellow journalists who wouldn’t have given Leanne more than a passing glance a month ago. They eyed her with envy now. As predicted, Claudia’s story had made the front page of the Courier on Saturday, and had gone on to make national headlines. Leanne wasn’t afraid to look smug.
She found Frankie two rows from the front. She had reserved the seat next to her, and Leanne picked up the press pack before sitting down. ‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘I think you’ll find Claudia Rothwell is the lifesaver,’ Frankie replied. ‘I can’t wait to see the legend in person.’
Although Frankie’s description was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, a casual glance around the room suggested there was growing anticipation of Claudia’s arrival. ‘Has there been any sign of her yet?’
‘No, but I’ve spotted a few of her cohorts,’ Frankie said, leaning in and surreptitiously pointing to the front row. ‘The woman with the blonde bob is Bryony Sutherland, and next to her is Harriet Healey.’
Harriet was the treasurer to the Empress Memorial Fund and was sitting amongst several other notable names from Sedgefield’s elite. These were the same people who had apparently been too busy to give their time to Claudia’s cause before she hit the headlines. They were flocking to her now and when a ripple of applause travelled from the back of the room, they were the first to stand up and cheer her arrival.
Claudia wore a dark trouser suit and a white silk shirt that emphasised the red stain of embarrassment creeping across her neck and cheeks. She batted away the applause as she made her way to the podium, and took her time adjusting the microphone. She didn’t dare lift her gaze as she shuffled her papers.
A woman with mousy brown hair and a floral dress who had been flanking Claudia, quickly poured a glass of water from a carafe and handed it to her.
‘Thanks, Yvonne,’ Claudia said, before facing front. ‘Hello, everyone.’
She took a sip of water as she waited for the second round of applause to die down. ‘This is all too much, and I know a lot of you are here today because you’ve read the piece in Saturday’s Courier, but I’m sorry, I’m not going to answer any further questions in that regard.’ She glanced towards Leanne and nodded. ‘I’ve said all I want to say.’
If they had been alone, Leanne might have put a hand on Claudia’s arm and apologised for the distraction caused by her article, but it had been necessary. The truth had to be told. Heroes had to be celebrated. It was time for Claudia to accept that, and Leanne too.
‘I’m glad that Amelia Parker is happy and healthy,’ Claudia continued, ‘but we’re two days away from marking the anniversary of the fire. It’s going to be a painful milestone for Sedgefield, and I hope we can all play our part in making the memorial service a fitting tribute. It’s taken a lot of hard work to get to this point, and our challenges aren’t over yet. If you’ve seen the weather reports, you’ll be aware that the storm we hoped was moving south, seems to have veered north, but come what may, we intend to go ahead with our plans. Now, if you could all turn to the press packs Yvonne has circulated.’
Despite initial nerves and a wobble in her voice, Claudia was commanding the room. Disgruntled journalists flicked through pages of information that detailed the line-up for Wednesday’s event. The pack included biographies of those taking part, and quotes from others directly affected by the tragedy, explaining why the memorial was so important to them. Claudia was determined to divert attention away from herself and seemed to be getting her way.
There were one or two quiet groans when Claudia stepped down from the podium and invited the treasurer to go through the finances. On the face of it, Hilary was about to bore the room rigid, but the rise in donations was eyewatering. The fund had grown exponentially in line with Claudia’s press exposure, and it was little wonder that the plans for the service had been supersized in recent weeks. They had more money than they could possibly need.
‘I’m sure you’re all wondering what will happen to the fund once we pass the anniversary,’ Claudia said, after swapping places with Hilary. ‘And it’s a question that has been discussed ad nauseam with my fellow trustees and within the working party. We did consider commissioning a monument, and that might be something the people of Sedgefield want in the future, but personally, I don’t feel now is the time for splashing out on a slab of stone or a tonne of twisted metal. We might be a year on, but there are those who continue to struggle. With that in mind, we’ve agreed that our next priority will be the establishment of a hardship fund to provide financial relief and mental health support to survivors and families of the bereaved.’
A hand went up. ‘Isn’t that a duplication of effort? I understand the victims have been offered counselling already,’ said a TV reporter.
‘You’re right,’ said Claudia. ‘And there has been some financial support too, but from the messages I’ve received to date, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. If it took two years to restore the theatre, the least we can do is invest the same amount of time, if not more, repairing the damage the fire has caused to people’s lives.’
Another hand shot up. ‘Since you’re taking questions,’ said a journalist from one of the tabloids. ‘I note from the programme that you’re not intending to give a speech on the night. Why is that?’
‘I will be onstage at various points, but I would prefer to leave the speeches to the likes of the mayor. Now back to—’
‘And let him take the credit?’ the journo asked.
‘The running order is tight, and we’ve promised the council we’ll be finished by ten thirty,’ she tried. ‘I’m sure Sedgefield can do without me droning on.’
‘Rubbish,’ Bryony called out from the front row. ‘People will want to hear from you.’
Claudia pursed her lips. ‘We’ll have to see,’ she promised.
‘What are your plans for meeting up with Amelia Parker?’ someone shouted, talking over another question that was being fired at Claudia. Her inexperience at dealing with the press was beginning to show.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve said I wouldn’t take ques—’
‘Have you spoken to her yet?’ another voice called out.
‘No, I … I’ve written a letter to her. That’s all I intend to say. Sorry, thank you,’ Claudia said, before quickly stepping away from the microphone.
Yvonne took her place and offered to take any further questions, but the press were out of their seats and swarming around Claudia. In a week where the papers would be full of memoriam pieces, editors were looking for an upbeat story to add a touch of light. Mal had done the same.
‘I’m going to get closer, see how she handles it,’ Frankie said.
Leanne held back to take in the spectacle. Bryony had grabbed Claudia’s arm and was trying to insert herself into the discussions, pausing now and again with a perfect pout whenever a camera was aimed in her direction. Yvonne had given up trying to draw attention back to the podium and was gathering up the papers Claudia had discarded, while Harriet fielded questions from the reporters who couldn’t get close to Claudia. The hero of the hour had been backed into a corner, but she was growing in confidence. With the wave of a hand and the occasional pointing of a finger, she worked the semicircle of journalists as a conductor might an orchestra. She didn’t appear to notice when Bryony was forced out of the melee.
‘Who knew Claudia would become so popular?’ Leanne said. Her tone suggested she was talking to anyone who would listen, but the comment was directed at Claudia’s ousted friend.
Aware that she was in a room full of journalists, Bryony eyed Leanne with suspicion. ‘It’s nice to see her getting the recognition she deserves after such a testing time.’
‘Do you know her well?’
‘Sorry, which paper are you from?’
‘I’m with the Courier. Leanne Pitman.’
‘Ah, so you’re the one who finally persuaded her to tell all.’
‘That’s me. So you were saying you’re a close friend,’ Leanne prompted, knowing this wasn’t entirely true, but she would like to hear Bryony’s exaggerated version.
‘Yes, I’m giving her riding lessons at the moment. She needs to find time to relax, get out into the fresh air. You can tell just by looking at her that she has a huge weight on her shoulders. How she kept everything to herself for so long, I don’t know.’
‘Perhaps she was dealing with the loss of her baby,’ suggested Leanne.
Bryony placed a hand to her chest. ‘It was such a shame, for her, and poor Justin too. He’s desperate to be a father. Did she tell you they’ve been trying ever since the miscarriage?’ she asked, too eager to prove she was a trusted confidante to worry about breaking a confidence.
‘No, she never mentioned it. Presumably because she wanted to keep some things private,’ Leanne reminded her. Before Bryony could defend herself, Leanne attempted to catch her off guard. ‘What do you think Phillipa would make of this?’
‘Phillipa?’ Bryony asked, eyes widening. ‘She’d support our cause if she could. She cares a lot about this community.’
‘Have you spoken to her about it?’
‘No, not for a while.’
‘Then how do you know? Has she made a donation?’ Leanne felt heat pumping through her veins at the very thought. If Phillipa had dared to offer blood money …
‘Not a penny,’ Bryony said quickly, only to become flustered. She didn’t know which of her comrades she was meant to defend. ‘What I mean is, she did offer, of course she did, but Claudia couldn’t accept it.’
‘Good for her,’ Leanne said, glancing over at Claudia. Things had quietened down, and only a handful of reporters were left to press her for soundbites. She was sharing a joke, and even Frankie was laughing. Claudia Rothwell never failed to surprise, and Leanne had stopped fighting against her instincts. She was ready to admit she was starting to like her. ‘I don’t imagine the rebuff went down well with Phillipa.’
‘This whole ordeal has devastated her, but if I know Phillipa, she won’t stay down for long.’
‘She won’t be welcomed back, not in Sedgefield,’ Leanne warned, unable to repress the snarl.
Bryony tensed. ‘I know this isn’t what people want to hear, but …’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Never mind.’
‘If you have something to say, I’m happy to keep it off the record,’ Leanne promised, pulse rising.
Bryony tipped her head back just so she could look down her nose at Leanne. ‘Phillipa’s intentions were honourable throughout. She wanted only the best for this town, the whole town. Time will tell, but if you ask me, it’s Declan Gallagher who should be hung out to dry, or at least his corpse should. He was a Jack the lad who took risks in every aspect of his life. This is his fault.’
‘You knew him?’
‘Not intimately,’ Bryony said. She smiled. ‘Not like some.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Declan drew a lot of interest. There were rumours,’ she said, arching an eyebrow. ‘My theory is he was too busy offering his personal services elsewhere to pay attention to what was happening on site.’
‘Do you know who he might have been seeing?’ Leanne asked, but, before Bryony could answer, she felt a hand on her back. Frankie had grown bored of the circus around Claudia.
‘I need to make a move,’ she told Leanne.
Leanne had glanced away for only a second, but when she turned back, Bryony was in retreat. She smiled at the two journalists politely. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Sorry, did I disturb something?’ Frankie asked, as Bryony walked away.
‘I’m not sure,’ Leanne mused. ‘But I think I’ll hang around a little longer.’
People had started to drift off, but a handful of dogged journalists continued to demand Claudia’s attention. Leanne was one of them, but she would have to wait her turn. Claudia was currently recording an interview for the local radio station.
Biding her time, she gravitated towards the refreshments table. All of the Thermos flasks for tea and coffee had been depleted, but amongst the empty cups she spied a rogue mini-pack of biscuits. She had skipped breakfast and went to reach for it just as someone else had the same idea.
‘Sorry, you have it,’ said the smartly dressed woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She pulled at the waistband of her trouser suit. ‘You’d be doing me a favour.’
‘How about we share?’ Leanne suggested as she tore open the packet. ‘Are you a journalist?’
‘No, I’m supposed to be in the room next door for a very tedious management course. I thought I’d have a little nosey in here instead, see what all this fuss is about our Claudia.’
‘You know her?’
The woman smiled. ‘We were good friends once. We were at school together,’ she said, eyeing Leanne carefully. ‘I take it you are a journalist.’
‘It was my article that caused this furore,’ Leanne admitted. Before the old school friend had a chance to consider the wisdom of continuing their chat, she added, ‘What was Claudia like?’
‘Eager to impress. Eager to be liked. She wanted to be everyone’s best friend,’ she said, lifting her biscuit to her lips, then pausing. ‘And I sort of get why she’d run into a burning building to save that little girl, but then again, she knew she was pregnant. Wouldn’t you want to protect your unborn child over the life of a stranger?’
‘I take it you weren’t there at the theatre,’ said Leanne, feeling the need to push back on Claudia’s behalf. This ‘friend’ appeared to be the type who enjoyed presiding over other people’s misfortunes.
‘No, thank God.’ She nibbled on her biscuit. ‘Not that it turned out too bad for Claudia in the end. Only she could put herself in the middle of a disaster and come out as the nation’s sweetheart.’
‘So tell me, why do you think your friendship drifted?’ Leanne asked, although having spent less than five minutes with this woman, she could hazard a guess.
Claudia’s friend wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, this and that,’ she said vaguely. ‘Once she had Justin, she didn’t want to have people around who might tell tales about her misspent youth, or her childhood woes.’
‘You mean like her mum dying?’ Leanne said, shocked by the woman’s callousness.
The old school friend didn’t respond. She had caught Claudia’s attention and waved at her with a smile that might have been a smirk. ‘What you see with Claudia isn’t what you get.’
There was no time to press for an explanation. Claudia had shrugged off the last journalist and was making a beeline for them.
‘Kim, how lovely to see you! It’s been too long,’ said Claudia, hugging her friend.
‘It certainly has,’ Kim said with a cheesy grin. ‘I bumped into your dad the other month in Chester, and I was telling him it had been a while. Didn’t he mention he’d seen me?’
‘No, well, you know …’
‘Yes, he did say you don’t speak much. You must be so busy.’
‘Like you wouldn’t believe. The charity has taken over my life,’ Claudia said. ‘Isn’t this madness? I wish they’d all go away.’
Leanne cleared her throat.
Smiling, Claudia said, ‘You’re the exception, obviously, but the last few days have been crazy. I really wish everyone could put aside this business with Amelia. There are more important things this week.’
‘I’m afraid there are also more important things today,’ Kim said. ‘You’ve caught me sagging. I’m meant to be in the training room next door, and I must go.’
‘Let’s not leave it so long next time,’ Claudia said, and the two friends made plans to meet up without managing to firm up any details whatsoever.
‘She seems nice,’ Leanne said when Kim had left.
‘Yeah, the best.’ Claudia’s tone matched Leanne’s for politeness. ‘Did you talk much?’
‘Not really. She might have mentioned a misspent youth, but unfortunately she didn’t share the details.’
Claudia attempted a laugh. ‘If anyone had a misspent youth, it was Kim. Don’t think for a second that this morning was her first experience of playing truant.’ She took a deep breath and let the tension leave her with the exhale. ‘I’m glad this is over, and I’m so, so sorry, but I need to head off. I promised Harriet I’d meet her back at the office for a de-brief.’
‘I was surprised not to see Justin here today,’ remarked Leanne, ignoring Claudia’s prompt to leave.
‘Unfortunately, he does have to show his face at work once in a while. It was a choice between coming along today, or being free on Wednesday, and this one I could handle on my own. The anniversary is going to be a challenge, especially if the storm doesn’t pass in time. I know I said we’d press on either way, but it would be so much easier if it wasn’t blowing a gale. But whatever happens, I promise to give the Courier one of the first post-event interviews. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me, and the charity of course,’ she added.
Leanne had surreptitiously positioned herself in front of Claudia in case she had any ideas of scooting off. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a quick question? It’s something Bryony mentioned.’
‘Oh, OK.’ Claudia looked nervously around the room, where hotel staff were stacking chairs. Bryony was long gone. ‘What did she say?’
‘We were talking about Declan Gallagher. She seemed to think he was involved with someone, and since the rumours haven’t hit the ears of the press, I’m guessing it’s because your peers have closed ranks.’ She left a pause to give Claudia time to close her gaping mouth. ‘Which can only mean it must involve one of you, and now you’re such good friends with Bryony, I imagine you know who she was talking about.’
Playing with the collar on her jacket, Claudia said, ‘Yes, I’d heard the rumours, but it’s not something I care to repeat. The truth is, I don’t like to engage in that kind of gossip and I don’t believe in kicking someone when they’re down. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
Claudia was going to have to walk straight through Leanne if she wanted to escape, because Leanne wasn’t budging, not now. ‘What do you mean “kick someone when they’re down”?’ She stopped to consider her own question and the chuckle that tickled her throat was coated in wickedness. ‘Are we talking about Phillipa? Declan Gallagher was having an affair with his boss?’
‘Technically, she wasn’t his boss,’ Claudia hit back. ‘I’m sorry, Leanne, I thought the Courier was better than this. Their private lives are no one else’s business, and I won’t say another word. I really do have to go.’
Leanne should get moving too but, unlike Claudia, who raced out of the hotel at lightning speed, Leanne slowed down when she reached reception. She had tried to ignore the smell of essential oils leaching out of the spa on her arrival, but she could no longer hold back the bitter-sweet memories they evoked. Lois had treated her brokenhearted friend to a blissful day of beauty treatments soon after her arrival in Sedgefield. Lois had loved everything about this hotel and had had dreams of marrying Joe here.
Plunging into the storm, the shock of rain washed away the warm memories, and Leanne was left bitterly cold. She glanced around the car park. Joe could have worked out where she would be, but there was no sign of him. Had he given up on her? She hoped so.
There was one familiar car she recognised as the headlights of a white Mercedes cut through the murk. Claudia was behind the wheel, but her car didn’t slow, and Leanne was getting too wet to pay it much heed. She used her rucksack as an unwieldy umbrella and was crisscrossing the car park when another car passed in front of her. Leanne stopped in her tracks and stared at the receding taillights, oblivious to the puddle she had stepped in. Raindrops dripped down the inside of her jacket collar and a shudder ran down the length of her spine. Phillipa was supposed to be in France. She was supposed to stay away. The bitch was back.