‘—we’ve got to leave it there. My thanks to DI Géricault for popping in today, stay tuned after the break as our syphilis test subjects return for their results, we have an appeal from the Love Island contestant whose pug was kidnapped and we’ll hear from the YouTubers who started the Set Fire To Your Head craze which has claimed its fourth victim. See you in three!’

So the police didn’t have a clue, any witnesses either weren’t coming forward or were too stupid to call them and there was a fandom growing up in my honour. How the hell had I done it – got out of Europe unchallenged? That damned elusive Rhiannon – she was me. Everyone was talking about me. ‘WE LOVE YOU, RHIANNON!’ that guy had shouted. I was adored. My back involuntarily arched like a cat’s when it was stroked. Preen preen.

But once the laptop lid was shut and I looked through the window at the dry, remote surroundings of the Hacienda where there was no other person but Tenoch for miles, I couldn’t help feeling ever so slightly lonely.

And that never ends well.

Monday, 21 January – Hacienda Santuario

1. People who look at their phone when you’re talking to them
2. People who tap their feet when they’re watching TV, even when there’s no music on
3. People who drink all but the dregs of a bottle of orange juice and put the carton back in the fridge
4. People who talk and eat loudly through a movie
5. People with body odour but who don’t know it
6. Tenoch – thanks to all of the above

I had settled in to the spacious en suite Bedroom 4 at the end of the upstairs corridor and into Tenoch’s routine. He kept himself fit with two or three workouts in his gym every day and when he wasn’t doing that he liked watching the news, The View and repeats of The Golden Girls. It was pretty funny, the first time I heard the jokes anyway. After the fifth watch of the same episode, I couldn’t find the joy in it like Tenoch could.

When he wasn’t watching that or pumping iron, Tenoch would be in his office ‘doing work’. I didn’t know what this ‘work’ was but I got the impression it had to be dodgy to account for the four dead men stacked in his pool house, the clandestine phone calls at odd hours and the shadowy man in the black BMW who kept coming to the gates to exchange packages through the bars. I got the impression that the less I knew about it all the better.

Besides which, I still had a fucking gigantic hole to dig.