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‘That’s so hard for you, but if you were close, she knows you’re sorry, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up.’
‘Oh, I hope so,’ Tiff said, with a small smile.
‘I was never allowed to call my grandma that, as she said it aged her too much. She was Nana June until the day she died.’
‘Mine hated the name Hilda,’ Tiff said, realising she hadn’t meant to give away her gran’s first name.
The crowd suddenly began to move as the doors to the theatre opened.
‘They’re going in. Whereabouts are you sitting?’
‘A seven,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not some kind of stalker guy, but maybe we could compare notes at half-time. I’m in C nine.’
‘Okay,’ Tiff said, moving forward with the crowd.
‘Oooh, nature calls,’ he said, edging away. ‘See you later.’
Tiff offered him a little wave as she attached herself to the back of the crowd.
The boss was bound to ask her if she’d been primed or not.
Right now she honestly had no answer to give.
THIRTY-NINE
Kim found her seat and within minutes Tiff was sitting beside her.
‘Anything?’ she asked, leaning her head over while still searching the crowds around her. Their killer could be in this very theatre.
Tiff shrugged as music started to play and the lights went down.
For a few seconds, the theatre was plunged into darkness before blue lights began dancing on the stage.
Kim could feel the atmosphere building through the crowd; that air of expectation and excitement as the music increased in tempo and the lights skipped around to the synth beat playing.
It built over the course of a couple of minutes, the beat coming underneath her feet, urging her to bang her foot or clap her hands.
A screen lit up on the stage. The word ‘louder’ was projected there in capital letters.
The crowd obliged, including Tiff, who was stamping her feet and clapping her hands.
Kim was trying to remain objective but she could certainly see the appeal. The audience had been drawn in immediately.
The huge projector screen changed and read, ‘Louder – wake up the spirits’.
The crowd obliged and the theatre was a cacophony of stamping, clapping and shouting. It reached a crescendo with the synth music, then silence, and darkness. The crowd quietened with awe before the lighting hit back in and a single figure was revealed on stage.
Her hair was red, long and wavy. She wore black leggings with high-heeled boots and an oversize white shirt that almost reached her knees. Her head was bowed and her hands posed in front of her in a prayer position.
The crowd was silent.
Eventually her head came up and her gaze swept around the theatre.
‘Thank you, Wolverhampton, for allowing me a moment of prayer and reflection before we begin.’
The crowd clapped vigorously, but this time she quieted them.
