‘We’re supposed to turn the lights off,’ Noah said in a low whisper.

‘OK. Although how are we supposed to see anything if it’s pitch black?’ Her laughter betrayed the fact that nerves mingled with her excitement.

‘Standard ghost-hunt rule,’ Noah went on. ‘Always do it in the dark if you can. Maybe they only come out at night, or maybe they’re always here, but you can only see them when there’s no light source.’

‘Maybe they’re always here,’ Hannah echoed, shuddering. ‘Thanks for that.’ She got up and walked to the door, checked it was closed and then flicked the switches.

She was plunged into a world of black velvet. There was no light anywhere, not even a soft glow from the computer or the red dot of a smoke alarm.

‘I can’t … how do I get back to the bench?’ She took a tiny step forward.

‘Follow my voice,’ Noah said. ‘This way.’

Hannah did as she was told, her arms out in front of her, following Noah’s soft, calm voice until she bumped into something.

‘Got you.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘You just need to move round here.’ He manoeuvred her gently, Hannah shuffling until she could feel the bench against the backs of her legs. She sat down and realized she was even closer to him than she had been before, their knees squashed against each other. But it would be awkward if she moved away.

‘Settled?’ Noah asked.

‘Yup.’

‘Righto.’

Slowly, Hannah’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. She was able to make out the curve of the reception desk, the shape of the computer monitor sitting on top of it, the cabinet on the wall opposite, full of high-end scrubs and lotions. She looked to her left, and there was Noah. Just the shape of a man to begin with, but then, moment by moment, his features materialized: curls, glasses, strong jaw, the thick-weave, entirely huggable jumper. He was a John Lewis catalogue model; intelligent and pensive, his smoulder not immediately obvious, but – from the second you saw it, and forever afterwards – completely devastating.

A devastating John Lewis catalogue model on a ghost hunt. Hannah suppressed a laugh and took a long, steadying breath.

‘I can’t hear anything, can you?’ he asked. ‘Not the storm or the buzz of equipment, or water in the tanks. This whole place is cushioned by insulation.’ Daniel had told them about it on the tour: it meant the spa was as calming as it could be for the guests, but also ensured that heat retention was high and energy use low. It was one of the biggest clues for Hannah and Noah as to how eco-conscious he already was.

‘Good for being green, good for hunting ghosts,’ Hannah murmured. ‘Maybe those two things are compatible, and we could become paranormal experts on the side. What would we be called? “Green Futures, Hidden Pasts”, or something.’

‘That’s very clever.’

‘But? I can sense there’s a “but”.’