He got back into the car and, with a wave, started up the engine and drove away. I put my bags down and walked round the side of the hotel to look around. Below, to my right, I could see a large swimming pool with sun loungers that looked straight out over the lake. I took a deep breath of the clean air and marvelled at the shades of blue, the turquoise water of the pool, the deeper blue of the lake and the sky blue above me. Around were terraced formal gardens and, further up and behind, I could see woodland.

I went back to collect my bags and went inside. The interior was that of an old palazzo decorated in an ornate traditional style, with wooden floors, old rugs and domed painted ceilings and pillared archways. At the reception desk, a dark-haired Italian girl had all my details on the computer.

‘Has anyone left a message?’ I asked.

The receptionist nodded and handed me an envelope. Inside was a note saying, See you on the terrace bar at 7.30 p.m. X

I glanced at my watch: 7.35 p.m.

Inside my bag, my phone pinged that I had another message. I got it out and glanced at the screen. It was from Heather. It’s not Jon, said the text. I’m on my way home and saw him drive past, literally five seconds ago.

I felt a sense of relief and a surge of hope. Two down. Not Jon, not Michael.

The receptionist handed me a room key. ‘Would you like to go up now?’ she asked.

I was about to say yes. I’d had it in mind to go and change, do my hair, fix my make-up, but another part of me was impatient; there was an urgency now to find out who was there in the bar that would not be ignored. I cannot wait another minute, I thought. ‘Later, thank you, though if you could have the bags sent up, that would be great. First, I’d like to go to the bar.’

She indicated that I should go down a corridor that led to the back of the hotel.