We landed and then bumped and jolted our way across another stretch of grey concrete. The pilot turned off the engines and I watched the propellers as they slowed down, becoming visible moments before they stopped. The door opened and we uncurled ourselves and made our way out. The airport’s one terminal was right in front of us, managing to look both temporary and thirty years out of date at the same time. We went in through a swing door that led into a small, irregular space: the arrivals hall. Serving the island since 1968 read the sign behind an empty check-in desk. Nothing much seemed to have changed.

There was a solid, rather aristocratic woman in her forties waiting for us beside a weighing machine. She was wearing a tweed jacket, scarf and pearl necklace and was carrying a sign with ALDERNEY LIT FEST typed in large letters. It had to be Judith Matheson. She had seemed nervous, standing alone in the empty arrivals hall, but her expression quickly turned into surprise and pleasure that we had actually arrived. She had spent a lot of time working on her make-up and even more on her hair, a wispy chestnut, which had been beaten into submission. She was someone for whom appearances mattered. That was the appearance she gave.

‘Hello! Hello!’ she announced as we gathered around her. ‘I’m Judith. Welcome to Alderney! I hope you all had a good flight. Plane nicely on time, I see. The luggage will come through in a minute and if anyone needs to use the loo, it’s just over there.’

‘How far is it to the hotel?’ Anne asked. She seemed a little breathless and I wondered if the flight had made her nervous.

‘Ten minutes.’ Judith managed to sound enthusiastic about everything. ‘Nothing’s very far on Alderney. There’s a minibus outside. Can I get you anything? A glass of water? The luggage really should be here very soon.’

‘No. I’m all right, thank you.’

I heard the revving of a motor, a vehicle approaching, and a minute later the first cases appeared, pushed through a rubber curtain onto a silver table. I noticed Kathryn Harris, who had taken her own case but was also struggling with two more belonging to her employer and I went over to her.

‘Can I help you with one of those?’ I asked.

‘Oh – thank you.’

I grabbed one and almost dislocated my shoulder with the weight of it. I was surprised it had even been allowed on the plane.

‘It’s full of Marc’s new book,’ Kathryn explained. ‘I’m sure it’ll be a lot lighter going home!’

Marc Bellamy had overheard us. ‘It had bloody well better be!’ he chimed in.