‘Everyone get up here all right? I got stung by the speed trap – two-hundred and twenty dollars for going maybe seven over. It’s ridiculous,’ Lucy said. And the relief that it wasn’t a sales pitch was almost palpable, though it did my bingo card (Lucy tries to SELL you anything) no favours.

‘Revenue raising,’ Marcelo chipped in. ‘They bring out the extra patrols to catch the tourists, let the locals go. That’s also why it’s a forty speed limit. Road like this should be seventy, but they want to make you impatient.’

‘You think there’s a case in it?’ Lucy asked hopefully.

‘Not in the slightest.’ I don’t think Marcelo meant for his disinterest, while honest, to be so cold, but it iced the table.

‘Has everyone been to their chalet yet? They’re lovely.’ Katherine was the next one to try. ‘We stayed last night and the morning views are just . . .’ She trailed off like there was no word in the world that could do justice to both the beauty of the sunrise and her skill in picking competitively priced mountain views.

‘I didn’t realise,’ said Marcelo slowly, ‘that we would have to walk between the hotel and our accommodation.’

‘Trust me, it’s much nicer than the rooms upstairs here,’ Katherine defended, like she had stock in the resort. ‘Besides, I wanted him to have some space. You know? To spread out in. A nice view. Not some stuffy room that’s not much bigger than . . .’

‘I don’t think he’ll give a shit, provided there’s fresh linen and cold beer,’ Lucy said.

‘Doesn’t mean we can’t stay here,’ Marcelo grumbled.

‘We got a discount for booking six chalets, remember?’

‘Might pay for your speeding fine.’ I couldn’t resist needling Lucy, but aside from a flicker of a smile from Sofia, I was ignored.

Marcelo dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. ‘How much do you want for me to switch rooms?’

‘You’ll manage the walk, Dad,’ Sofia said. ‘I’ll piggyback you if you want.’

That finally got a wry smile out of him. ‘I’m injured,’ he moped theatrically, clutching at his right shoulder. Sofia, a surgeon, had done Marcelo’s shoulder reconstruction herself, just over three years ago, and it had long healed. It was obvious he was putting it on. For what it’s worth, he seems pretty well healed when he swings a punch at me in Chapter 32.

Normally, a surgeon wouldn’t be allowed to operate on family. But Marcelo is accustomed to getting what he wants, and he’d insisted he’d only trust his daughter’s hands. The hospital’s nose for a wealthy potential benefactor ironically turned enough blind eyes for the Garcia Wing of the ophthalmology centre to be built.

‘Settle down, old man,’ Sofia joked, spearing some beef. ‘I hear you had a top-class surgeon.’