‘Room 1214?’ I asked, already striding out of the office. ‘Can you show me?’

‘Yeah, that’s right actually,’ Gavin puffed, catching up both physically and mentally. Juliette and Andy followed. ‘Do you know them or something?’

I doubted the name on the spreadsheet meant anything to any of them. Twelve hours ago, it would have meant nothing to me too. But there are no coincidences, and it was written in the spreadsheet, plain as day.

We arrived at the door. To think, a spreadsheet had started this whole thing and now one was about to crack it wide open.

Room 1214, McAuley.

‘Not yet,’ I said, knocking.

CHAPTER 34

Edgar and Siobhan McAuley were all too eager to invite me in when I introduced myself as a Cunningham. They were older than my mother but appeared more sprightly. Edgar had a bulbous whiskey drinker’s nose and was wearing a lime-green polo shirt tucked into belted brown slacks. Siobhan was short, with a gleaming silver pixie cut and thin arms that reminded me of the frost-stripped tree branches on my drive up. She was wrapped in a Burberry scarf. Not Gavin’s usual clientele indeed.

The room was narrow: one set of bunk beds on the left and a clothes rack (there was no room for a wardrobe) on the right, next to a lone chair, no desk. A suitcase, placed on top of a stack of books between the chair and the lower bunk bed acted as a table, playing cards scattered on it. Nearer the entrance, there was a closet-sized bathroom. This resort had been built like a cruise ship: maximum occupancy in minimal space. The room smelled like everything else here: wet and damp. No ash in the air, as far as I could tell.

They fussed over us as we got settled, Edgar chattering about the storm, Siobhan clattering around with an electric kettle, apologising that they only had two cups and so one of us would have to go without. Andy, who still had his beer bottle hanging from his fingertips, had raised it slightly to decline her offer. Juliette, Andy and I took an awkward seat on the sagging bottom bunk, our knees near our chests. Gavin stood in the doorway.

Edgar took the solitary chair and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘We weren’t sure we’d see anyone, with the storm and everything, so I can’t tell you how thankful we are that you made it up here.’ His accent seemed like it was British trying to chase away Australian. Upper class, but trained to be so. ‘We hadn’t heard from Michael – we thought you might be as stuck as we were, so we’ve just been waiting. Not our usual accommodation, obviously, but it’s been a thrill, actually. Isn’t that right, sweetie?’ he called.