She decided to ring Caroline’s number at dinner. She’d seated herself opposite Geraldine. They were halfway through their main and Renata and Phoenix, on either side of Kate, were deep in conversation with other people as she slipped her mobile onto her lap. She’d already stored the number in her contacts so all she had to do was hit ‘call’. She watched Geraldine as she moved her fork from her plate to her lips.

And then she heard it; a tinkly, happy tune from directly opposite her. She kept her eyes on Geraldine, willing her to answer her phone. But it wasn’t Geraldine who dug around in her pocket and lifted her phone above the level of the table cloth. It was Joy. She jabbed at the screen, ending the call, then apologised profusely for bringing her mobile to dinner.

Kate’s phone, sheltered from view by the table cloth, stopped vibrating, jolted once, then lay still in her hand. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? That Joy’s phone had gone off at the exact moment Kate had called Caroline’s number? No, it couldn’t. The reason the card was in Geraldine’s pocket was because Joy – Caroline – had given it to her. It wasn’t Geraldine who’d suggested a walk in the garden on the first night, it was Caroline. Geri’s comment about Jenna must have prompted Caroline to take her to one side to find out how much she knew.

Fuck. How could she have got it so wrong? With Geraldine’s bombastic tone, clipped vowels and ugly shoes, she’d assumed she was the journalist, not Joy.

Beneath the table, Kate twisted the skin on the back of her hand until it stung. Focusing on the pain was the only thing that stopped her from picking up her plate and slamming it into Caroline’s face.

Kate took herself off to her room after dinner, leaving the plates soaking in the sink. She couldn’t trust herself to be around Caroline, not until she’d calmed down. She had to be clear-headed and in control of her emotions. And she needed a plan.

She sat at the dressing table and played a film on her laptop – staring through the screen, rather than at it – while Tom read a book on the bed. When he finally fell asleep she dug out the SSD card, slipped it into the slot on the laptop and watched Caroline’s therapy sessions with Tom. There had to be something that bitch had confessed that she could use against her, some dark little nugget she could hold over her head. But there was nothing. Caroline’s session was a bullshit splurge about body consciousness and self-esteem. Watching the recording again it was obvious the woman was acting. She hadn’t cried once.