‘If Anna and her Mr Medlin are still here,’ Hannah mused, ‘then what can Daniel do about it? I assume that once Audrey’s got what she needs for her book, he’ll want to get rid of them. If you can, I mean. I’ve never really believed in exorcisms.’

‘Me either,’ Noah said. ‘It all seems very far-fetched. More far-fetched, even, than sitting in a hotel spa in the dark, calling out to people who died hundreds of years ago.’ Hannah caught the movement of him running his hand over his face.

‘I thought you were up for this?’

‘I am. I’m just impatient for something to happen.’

‘And you must be tired after earlier. All that adrenaline from being in such a dangerous situation, then the comedown when you reached safety.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. She wondered how the sea had looked from his point of view; those giant waves so close, their roar unbearably loud.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, but it wasn’t entirely convincing. ‘Anyway, I’m not leaving here without getting something.’

Hannah laughed. ‘What if there’s nothing?’

‘We’ve already had the light and your cold spot. We need to keep asking questions.’

‘OK.’ Hannah pushed away her embarrassment at speaking into an empty room. ‘Are you still here, Anna? My name’s Hannah – it’s so similar – and I just want to talk to you.’

She paused, listening hard. She could hear her breathing, and Noah’s. There was nothing else.

‘What was your fisherman’s name, Anna? We just have an initial. Did you love him, or was it just a crush, an infatuation? How did you know?’

She sensed Noah straightening, his head turning towards her. She looked resolutely ahead. She was on a roll now.

‘Didn’t you realize it was wrong, when you were already married? Or didn’t you care? Was your love for him too strong to deny?’

The silence this time seemed heavier, but Hannah didn’t know if it was something in the room adjusting, or simply her imagination.

‘Did Edward kill you, Anna?’ Noah asked. ‘Or did you fall?’

‘These are some weighty questions,’ Hannah whispered. ‘Do you think we should be asking all this?’

‘We’re more likely to get a response to this kind of thing than if we ask what her favourite colour is.’

‘True,’ Hannah conceded. There was no obvious response to Noah’s stark questions, and Hannah wondered if they would get back to the snug, listen to the recording and hear answers to everything they’d asked amongst the white noise. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ she asked, suppressing a shudder.

‘Hannah,’ Noah laughed.

‘I’m asking you, not the ghosts.’

‘Oh. Yellow, then.’

‘Yellow? I would have guessed blue.’

‘Why?’

‘You wear it a lot; it brings out the depth in your eyes, which you already draw attention to with those black-framed glasses.’

‘So you think blue is my favourite colour because it’s the one that plays to my vanity?’ His chuckle told her he thought the idea was ridiculous.