‘I did her on the last cruise. Recognise her, from that girl band?’

‘Uh no, I don’t,’ I said, squinting.

‘She used to be in that group. Five girls. She was on here touring her solo stuff. I had her every which way but loose.’ He shoved his feet into his shoes without untying the laces.

‘Oh right,’ I said, handing back the phone. ‘So your thing’s been up her as well as me. Delightful.’

He guffawed. ‘She preferred it in the ass.’

‘Even better.’

He kissed me again when he had his shoes on and as he pulled away, I held onto him.

‘What’s up?’

‘Hug.’

‘Baby, I have to go.’

‘I know, I know. Just hold me for a couple of seconds. Please.’

And he did. I saw Craig in my mind. I breathed against him. I’d missed it. The closeness of another body, dead or alive. Someone with heat and a heartbeat and regularly inflating lungs. But he pulled away. He didn’t get it.

‘See you later,’ he said.

‘You will?’

‘Yeah. I clean your room once a day so I’m bound to,’ he laughed, striding across the carpet without another look.

The bed felt cold but not because of his lack of warmth. Gabriel wasn’t what I’d wanted, but I was getting closer to it. Whatever ‘it’ was.

I washed and changed into my virginal broderie anglaise vest top and shorts and went up on deck to watch the ship pulling out of port, heading for the next stop: Genoa. Seven days remaining. I breathed in, breathed out. I checked the cracked iPhone 4 – still as silent as the grave, but there was one bar of signal remaining. I chanced a call Dannielle Fairly. Good or bad news, I had to know.

There was no answer. I left a message:

‘Hi, it’s Hilary. Just wondering if there were any developments, anything at all to report. I need… something. Anything. Please.’ I hung up.

Caro wasn’t back at her cabin yet and the upper deck was fairly quiet with most people having hit the dining rooms or catching a show. A message bing!ed through around two minutes later, straight to voicemail.

‘Hiya, love,’ came the Mancunian caterwaul. ‘Yeah, I found Dad’s file with the information in – I’m waiting to hear back that the fella’s expecting yer – he’s got a bad connection where he is. Bit remote. Give me a few days and I’ll let you know the address—’

‘What address?’ I shouted down the phone. ‘Where am I going? Aren’t you even going to tell me which fucking country?’

No, she didn’t. She warbled on and on about how hard it had been to find the envelope Bobby had hidden, how they still hadn’t released his body for cremation yet and how she’d never known such admin when a person dies.

‘Oh cry me a fucking river, I don’t care, just tell me WHERE, Dannielle?’ I cried. ‘WHERE AM I GOING?’