In fact, Alderney had been a complete washout. I had been sidelined during our session, there had been no books to sell and there had been none of the camaraderie that usually made festivals such fun. How could there have been when every other writer I’d met had been a suspect in two violent murders? I felt particularly sorry for Judith Matheson. She’d put so much work into organising the weekend and what had she got out of it? A dead sponsor, a cut-up lawn and a divorce.

I was hoping that Anne Cleary or even Marc Bellamy might turn up and join us, but the room was almost empty. This was a Monday night and anyone who had come for the weekend had long since checked out. Maybe the other writers had found somewhere cheaper to eat in town now that the festival was no longer picking up the tab. But just as we were finishing the main course, Hawthorne looked up, and turning round, I saw two people I knew approaching the table. One of them was Elizabeth Lovell. The other, guiding her by the arm, was her husband, Sid.

‘They’re here,’ I heard him say. ‘Just finished eating. Fish, by the look of it. Mr Hawthorne facing us. His friend on the other side.’

They came over to our table and stopped, hovering over us a little awkwardly. I wondered if I should invite them to sit down, but the truth was, I didn’t want their company. ‘Are you going home tomorrow?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘That’s right,’ Hawthorne said. ‘And yourself?’

‘We have a flight to Southampton and then back to Jersey. We’re leaving very early.’ She stared over the table. ‘That only leaves tonight, if you still want to take me up on my offer.’

She was referring to the séance that she had suggested the night before and Hawthorne didn’t hesitate. ‘I’d like that very much,’ he said.

I was less keen. ‘Actually, I was just going to bed,’ I said.

‘No, Tony. I think you should join us. Four feels like a better number and Elizabeth here has got form. She helped the police in Jersey.’ Was he being sarcastic? He sounded completely straightforward.

‘Well, all right . . .’

‘I’m so glad.’ Elizabeth Lovell smiled, an action that stretched the tendons on either side of her neck. It was perhaps unfair to be judgemental, but with her hunched-up body and the dark glasses masking so much of her face, I found her rather alarming. ‘Shall we say the screening room at ten o’clock, then? Sid can ask at the reception desk, but the hotel seems to be half empty so I’m sure it will be free.’

The two of them walked away and as soon as they were out of the room, I turned to Hawthorne. ‘What are you playing at?’ I demanded. ‘You’ve already told me you don’t believe in this stuff!’