It was a woman in her forties, securing a pink dressing gown around herself. She had pink tubes of sponge tied into her hair.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Kane said. “I’ve just arrived here and found myself in a bit of a situation. I had expected to stay at the hotel, you see . . .”

The woman winced. “You booked online?”

“That’s right.”

“This happened with a group on a yacht a few days ago. Seems they haven’t sorted out their website.”

“What are my options?” Kane said.

“There’s not many.”

“Any other hotels?”

She laughed. “No.” Then she bit her lip, thinking. “There is one possibility.” She hesitated. “Follow me.”

She put her lock on the latch, slipped some flip-flops on, and led Kane around the corner.

“Where is everyone?” Kane asked.

“It’s movie night on the base.”

“What are they showing?”

“Something good, I guess. It doesn’t really matter.”

The woman knocked on the door of a bungalow and a man answered in Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt that said ASCENSION DIVING SCHOOL. He was stocky, with thick gray curls. He studied Kane with a touch of disbelief as the woman explained his predicament, then went back inside, reappearing a few seconds later with a set of keys and some bedsheets draped over his arm. They crossed the road to an identical bungalow, only unlit.

“The previous tenant has just left,” the man explained as they walked in. He turned the lights on. It was a family home, furnished, even some pictures on the walls: flowers, lakes.

Kane started to get a grim feeling.

The three of them peered inside each room. The man checked the taps, opened the pedal bin. They seemed curious. He opened cupboards and swept up some dead leaves from where a plant had sat beside the sink. A line of ants continued their traffic. Kane peered apprehensively at a low single bed in a small bedroom. The only bed that had retained a mattress, it seemed. It was the room of a teenage girl.

“There’s not an overabundance of accommodation on the island,” the man said. “Perhaps tomorrow you can ask at Two Boats. I don’t see the harm in you being here tonight.”

“Sure. That’s great.”

The wallpaper was yellow, posters of celebrities still attached, stickers on a mirror. An ornament hung from the ceiling above the bed: feathers dangling from a metal hoop with a web of threads crisscrossing it.

“It’s quiet here,” he said. “You’re not too near the bar.”

“It’s all I need. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable. I’m Edward, by the way.”

“Craig.”

“How much do I owe you, Craig?”

When Kane reached for his wallet, the man waved it away as if a transaction would seal the distaste.