‘Ahh. She hasn’t checked out.’ His face fell. ‘What time would she have had to . . . ? Ten o’clock.’ They both glanced at the clock on the wall, which said quite plainly that it was quarter to eleven. Paula sighed, knowing that there was no time difference between the two places, and felt her hopes slide away like an outgoing tide. It was now a whole fortnight since her mother had jetted off in an almighty huff and they still had heard barely a word from her. If she hadn’t checked out yet, then the chances of her being on the return flight today did not look promising.

‘Rightio,’ said Harry heavily. ‘I see. Thank you. If you could just tell her that Harry called again, then. Yes, she knows the number. Goodbye.’

‘Oh, Dad,’ said Paula, feeling helpless as he hung up. ‘I don’t know what to say. Maybe she’s just overslept or . . .’

‘Nope,’ he said. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the disappointment crashing through him as he gave a despondent sigh and sank into a chair. ‘The man said she hasn’t even booked a return flight. You know how stubborn your mother is. She could sit this one out for weeks yet, mark my words.’

Paula had a horrible feeling he was right, but did her best to reassure him. ‘She’ll come back,’ she said weakly. ‘She has to! Being stubborn is one thing, but there comes a point when she has to face up to real life and get on that plane home.’ She hoped so anyway. Her mum’s wall of silence was beginning to feel like the Cold War. What was going on in her head?

‘I don’t know what she thinks she’s proving, other than that she knows how to prolong a sulk,’ Harry went on. ‘And for what? I said sorry, it’s not as if I can change the past and make Frankie disappear.’ He gazed glumly out of the window. ‘Not that I’ve heard from her again, either, before you ask. What a mess, honestly. What a sorry mess.’

Oscar, Paula’s dachshund, seemed to detect the unhappiness in Harry’s voice and trotted over to him to offer some supportive hand-licking. Paula watched her dad make a fuss of him, knowing how much he missed having a dog of his own. He and Jeanie had always had springer spaniels – bouncy, exuberant and loving – but when their last one, Charlie, had died just after Christmas, they’d taken the hard decision not to have another dog, what with Harry’s bad back and Jeanie’s bouts of sciatica, and the pair of them being that bit more tired in general these days.