After showering, Belinda moved across to the wardrobe. Jeans and a sweatshirt, her normal workday attire for the campsite, wouldn’t do here. Businesslike and professional was the look she needed. Reluctantly, she pulled out one of her navy work suits that she teamed with a white shirt. She caught her light brown hair up in a neat ballerina-type bun at the back of her head, instead of simply brushing it and leaving it loose. There, back in proper work mode, so why didn’t she feel excited at the prospect of spending her days once again working in a job that had always given her a sense of purpose, of being needed? Smothering a sigh, Belinda picked up her work bag and laptop.

‘Come on then, BB, back in the old routine.’ The little dog gave a quick bark and followed her out of the door.

Downstairs in the hotel’s dining room, she helped herself to a mug of coffee from the machine on the buffet table and stood looking around, making sure everything was up to standard before heading for reception.

Donna, the senior receptionist, was on duty and welcomed Belinda back with a smile. ‘Nigel will be pleased to see you.’

‘I’m heading over to Torquay this morning to see him and Molly,’ Belinda said. ‘Everything ticking along here? Anything I need to know about?’

Donna shook her head. ‘All good. We’re full for the Easter weekend. Housekeeper is on top of everything for that.’ She hesitated. ‘There is one thing, but that’s up to Nigel to tell you.’

Belinda raised her eyebrows and looked at her, but Donna shook her head.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘Okay. I’ll see you later,’ Belinda said, feeling unsettled and wondering what Nigel needed to tell her.

‘Give my love to Molly,’ Donna said.

‘Will do.’

Half an hour later and Belinda was driving along the Torquay ring road approaching the turning to take for the coastal road where the hotel was situated. Traffic was heavy and Belinda found herself thinking wistfully of the quieter Brittany roads. Once in the hotel grounds, she quickly parked and, taking the pot of tulips she’d bought at the garden centre en route, made her way through the hotel to Nigel and Molly’s cottage hidden away in the grounds. The door was on the latch and she pushed it open.

‘Nigel, it’s me Belinda,’ she called.

‘Come through – we’re in the conservatory,’ he answered.

An efficient looking nurse was writing something on her tablet as she stood alongside Molly lying on a daybed.

‘Sorry to interrupt. Shall I go and have a look around the hotel and come back in fifteen minutes?’ Belinda asked, hoping she didn’t sound as shocked as she felt at seeing Molly, a woman who was always on the go, lying down, a pale imitation of her normal self.