I put the Mini back in gear. “I’ll let you go, so. Good luck!”

I drove on, crossing the old bridge into Malin, where the green was almost completely submerged. Guinness greeted me at the back door and I let him out. He darted out between my legs likes a bullet from a gun but returned within minutes.

How much time do I have? I wondered. Not much, unless I wanted to take the risk of not being able to get back to Glendara. But I was parched, so I put on the kettle and made a cup of tea, which I drank while moving from room to room. Marina’s door was open; a glance inside confirmed that it was empty. I was glad to see that, like the office, she’d left it surprisingly clean and tidy.

In my own bedroom I changed out of my damp clothes, found some thick socks and wellies to go with my clean gear and a proper waterproof jacket. Then I grabbed as many blankets and sheets as I could from the hot press, and a sleeping bag which I pulled from the top of the wardrobe. I stuffed them all into a huge laundry bag. Then I raced out the door, leaving Guinness inside with food and water and a sandbox. He looked most unhappy at this arrangement but not at all keen to stay outside, so he hadn’t much choice. I gave him a quick head rub; God knows when I’d see him again. I had a feeling I’d end up staying in town overnight. As an afterthought, I ran back inside and grabbed a toothbrush.

The roads were worse on the way back in, if that were possible. But I made it back to the hall to find Phyllis making hot tea and handing around her homemade biscuits. Tony had provided brown bread sandwiches and soup, which was being heated in a big cauldron on the two-ringed cooker in the hall kitchen. The smell of the soup reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so when Phyllis asked me if I was hungry, I gratefully accepted some food and she and I sat in the foyer for a break and a chat.

“What a weekend to arrive back,” she said, taking a bite from a salmon sandwich.

“I know. Bit of a contrast to Florida.”

My phone buzzed and I took it from the pocket of my jeans. It was a text from Maeve, with a picture of the sack I’d seen in her car, but this time it had something in it. Something long and slithery. I passed it to Phyllis.

She pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and frowned. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s from Maeve. She’s caught the snake,” I said. “They found him on the golf course.”