‘God, Ria, it’s always about you, isn’t it?’ Hugo says, uncharacteristically snappy. ‘I don’t care if you’re too hungover to ski. Serves you right after your appalling display last night. Anyway, you need to get up. Cass has gone missing and we need to help look for her.’

I sit up and rub my eyes. ‘What? Why do we need to look for her? She’s a grown woman. She’s probably gone for a walk or something.’

Hugo sighs. ‘You may well be right, but Simon is beside himself. It seems she’s been suffering with postnatal depression and he’s worried she might hurt herself or something. He says she wouldn’t go out without the baby and without telling anyone.’

I sigh and sink back onto the pillows. ‘Yes she would – the baby’s always with the nanny. Cass barely seems to spend any time with it at all.’

Hugo strides over to the bed and hauls the covers back. I turn over on to my front, feeling strangely exposed. ‘It doesn’t matter what you or I think,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I’m sure she’s fine too. But I want us to look like we’re being helpful. Like we care – which I do, even if you don’t. So get yourself out of bed and get dressed, OK?’

Once I’ve had a quick shower, some paracetamol and two Berocca to try to wake myself up, I go downstairs to the living room.

Simon is sitting on the leather sofa, holding the baby and staring into space. Matt is on the phone speaking French and gesticulating, and Millie is standing anxiously and awkwardly by the sofa, patting Simon’s shoulder.

‘Simon?’ Hugo says. ‘What can we do to help? Should we go and walk around the resort? See if we can see her?’

I look out the window and see that it is snowing. Really quite hard. Please say no, I plead inwardly.

Simon ignores Hugo’s question, gets up from the sofa and distractedly hands Hugo the baby. Hugo makes a coochy-coo noise at Inigo and Inigo giggles. ‘Who’s a gorgeous boy?’ Hugo says in that stupid high-pitched voice everyone seems to use to talk to babies.

Simon gives Hugo a despairing look, runs his hand through his thinning hair and paces up and down by the enormous glass wall. Hugo turns his attention back to Simon, pulling a sympathetic face while gently rocking the baby.

‘It’s all my fault,’ Simon says, his voice strained and strangulated. ‘I shouldn’t have stayed up last night. I shouldn’t have got drunk. I should have been in bed with Cass, looking after my wife and my baby. It’s all my fault. She’s so vulnerable at the moment. I shouldn’t have brought her here. If anything’s happened to her …’

Millie pats his shoulder again.