‘There’s meat.’ Benjamin rose and indicated the box on the countertop. ‘And we have potatoes, rice, pasta . . .’

‘You do realise that my granddaughter is still missing? And anyway, what’s wrong with Sally?’

‘This is all we know.’ Benjamin held up his mobile phone and read: ‘“Something has come up – sorry! Cannot be in to work for the next week or so. Sally. I will buy myself out.”

‘You understand, Theresa,’ he said, while she glanced at the text to see whether it might have another meaning. ‘Sally is in a sulk because of the hideous goings-on in here last night. That’s all this is.’

‘Good riddance.’ William was back, and in for the kill. ‘She’s a sanctimonious drama queen and I, for one, have had enough of her.’

Five minutes later, Theresa had her apron on, and was preparing today’s special – cottage pie – while Benjamin and William got the dining room ready.

She reasoned that, until some contact was made with either Chloe or Neil, there really wasn’t much she could physically do to aid the search. She had made numerous attempts to get through to Neil via Mervin’s app. He had not replied.

About five minutes before the house was due to open to the public, with a bright ‘Coooeee’, Zoe popped her head round the back door.

‘Only me!’

It was lucky that Theresa knew Zoe’s voice, as, after undergoing the new Swiss treatment, her face was unrecognisable: a glossy forehead, something about her eyes which gave her an oriental appearance, and lips so full they looked as though she might have bought them in a joke shop. ‘Just wanted to hear any news. All running smoothly since I went away, I hope.’

William and Benjamin arrived abruptly in the kitchen, waving their mobile phones.

‘Has anyone seen this?’ cried Benjamin. ‘It’ll be that bloody Marcel and his cronies.’

‘A whole batch of one-star reviews on FaveEats!’ William leaned against the countertop. ‘I never read these stupid internet things, but look! Even the burger bar in the garage up on the autoroute now has a higher rating than us.’

‘According to this other foodie site,’ Benjamin swallowed hard before continuing, ‘we are the lowest-rated eating establishment in Bellevue-sur-Mer.’

Zoe grabbed the phone from Benjamin’s hand, and peered down at the screen. ‘Can’t see a thing.’ She looked up and blinked her false eyelashes, not realising that one of them had unhinged itself and fallen across her right eye. ‘It’s gone awfully dark in here. I don’t know how you work in these conditions. Anyone got a magnifying glass?’

‘Does anyone seriously read those star-review things before choosing where to eat?’ Theresa would never consider the opinions of total strangers.