Connie, however, hadn’t managed to relax as much as she’d hoped since leaving the safety of the village. She couldn’t entirely stop herself scrutinizing the passengers on the plane, the other guests, checking the faces in the busy medina, glancing about her in the narrow alleyways of the souk. A gift of dates, nuts and little oranges left in a dainty latticework dish on their bed set her heart racing. She kept her phone off at night, in case – ridiculously – there was a text saying he was outside the bedroom door. But there was no sign of him.

She put this unease partly down to something that had happened on the day of their departure, although she did her best to push it to the back of her mind. As they left the house at four in the morning for their seven-thirty flight, she had noticed a little posy of snowdrops tied with string lying on the top of the low wall beside the house. The beam of her phone torch picked it out as she made her way to the car. Anyone could have left it there, she told herself firmly. Most likely a passing child had dropped it the day before, although it had been raining hard all night and the flowers looked fresh.

She’d found herself racking her brain as Devan drove in bleary-eyed silence to Bristol airport, trying to remember whether Jared had ever mentioned snowdrops, whether he might have thought they held any sort of significance for her. Nothing sprang to mind, but the old churning unease was set in motion once more. It made her want to weep with frustration. Would it ever end, this constant niggling, exhausting vigilance?

‘I still don’t get it,’ Devan said, early on the morning of their last day. He was sitting propped up against the pillows, the light filtering through the half-open shutters dappling his face and naked chest. Connie was curled on her side, watching him sleepily, but his tone alerted her. She felt her body tense. ‘I know I’ve got at you for not sussing Jared out earlier, but I was the same. I liked him. He really did seem … normal. He could have been a friend. How could we both have got it so wrong?’

This was the first time Jared’s name had been mentioned on the holiday and it felt like something of a relief to Connie, despite her anxiety as to where the discussion might lead: as the days had gone on, the elephant still sitting in the room had been growing bigger and bigger in the silence. Devan was staring down at her with bewilderment. ‘And he genuinely seemed to want my friendship, Connie – however twisted that might be. I think he was quite lonely.’