‘That was insane!’ Andy’s eyes lit up with repressed youth. ‘We picked the wrong resort!’ I thought it was a pity Katherine wasn’t here to react to that.

‘It started small. Some guy said he’d brought his DJ kit and asked if he could set it up – we’ve had bands and stuff before, so I said sure. I thought it would be a bit of fun while the storm passed. But as the weather got wilder outside, it got wilder inside, and it’s turned into a bit of a bender.’ He shrugged. ‘Everyone’s having fun. No harm in it.’

‘We can’t even get help to Sky Lodge,’ Juliette cautioned. ‘If something goes wrong, who will come to help you?’

‘You’ve got two dead and one missing, and how many parties did you throw?’ Gavin shot back as he guided us further down the corridor. ‘Look, I can’t shut it down. It’s too far gone. I cut the power and they’ll have a sing-a-long. I cut off the bar and then I’m going to get my fridges smashed and ransacked. Once the storm passes and they can get back out there, they’ll filter out on their own. I’ve just got to let them wear themselves out.’ He chuckled. ‘Gosh, I do feel sorry for the old couple though. Bet they wish they’d booked over the ridge.’

‘I bet the mark-up on the bar doesn’t hurt your end.’

‘You wouldn’t have me starve?’ He smiled.

We threaded our way through the bowels of the hotel. As predicted, it was the polar opposite of Sky Lodge: closer to a university dormitory than a hotel, with breakout spaces such as communal kitchens instead of libraries, and flat-screen TVs in place of log fires. Stainless steel was abundant. Gavin’s office was not that much more sophisticated: he had a pool table with a scar ripped through the felt and bottle rings on the oak perimeter, a standing desk adorned with a much more expensive computer than Juliette’s and two monitors, and a corkboard with an A3 map of the whole mountain, Sky Lodge included, and various weather and satellite images. Gavin walked around his desk to what I at first thought was a small black safe, but instead turned out to be a fridge. He plucked out a few Corona beers, hanging them between his fingers, and offered them as if he were Edward Scissorhands. Andy grabbed one quickly, but I shook my head.

‘We’re in a hurry, Gavin.’ Juliette waved a bottle away. Andy, on realising we’d both declined, held his bottle awkwardly, figuring it too treacherous to drink.