People – husbands mostly, sent on errands – were running to their cars amid the vicious slanted ice that had just started coming down in sheets. I could barely see the car park through the chaos, but they were all doing the same kind of half-hop, half-lurch that comes with shielding your elbow over your brow. The wind was whipping powder up off the ground too, adding a swirling mist below knee height that looked like sea foam on crashing waves. It was level ground, but all of them fought the wind like they were hiking uphill. I saw occasional flares of orange – cars unlocking – as they made it further into the grey. Like some kind of relay, the next batch to brave it huddled under the awning, blowing into hands while surveying the storm. I can only assume they were discussing among themselves whether what was in the car was really necessary after all, and figuring out how best to frame this icy quest as possibly shag-worthy heroism.

I was sitting in the bar – which could sort you out a coffee – with Sofia. We were perched on high stools, pulled up to the front window, and had been watching the storm increase in ferocity. Marcelo was somewhere deeper inside the building, arguing with Juliette over how to get a room in the guesthouse. My mother would have either been with him, or independently arguing with Crawford. I hadn’t quite figured out what it meant to be Michael’s lawyer yet, so I was fuelling up on caffeine before approaching the Drying Room, which, because Michael wasn’t ready to see anyone yet, Crawford had locked before taking up sentry duty in a chair outside. Lucy was sitting on her own across the room. She had a lunch-time pint, but she was simply spinning the glass in its own condensation. Erin wasn’t there, having made the move to her chalet before the storm hit. Katherine had a pot of tea and was looking at a plastic-sleeved binder. I wondered how many murders it would take for her to crack and have a pint, too. I suspected at least a couple more. I assumed her binder had her itinerary. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d printed out the weather forecast and was trying to figure out how she’d misread it. I’ll give you two guesses where Andy was.

The group of husbands on the porch decided there was a break in the sleet and made a run for it. I tapped the glass and said, ‘And they’re off,’ as if calling a horse race. ‘I Should Have Gone Earlier is in the back, just shy of I’d Rather Freeze To Death Than Admit I’m Wrong, who’s a few lengths behind I’m Only Out Here Because Of Outdated Relationship Archetypes and out by a nose is Are You Sure You Couldn’t Live Without It Babe.’