‘Good morning, Mr Sinclair,’ said Raymond, the head of Reception.

‘Good morning, Raymond,’ replied Harry. ‘Could you look up one of the guests’ details for me, please?’

‘Certainly. And the name?’

‘Steph Durham.’

‘She’s a popular lady. Your brother, Dominic, was just asking about her too.’

Harry felt himself tense. He didn’t like the sound of Dominic taking too much interest in Steph. It didn’t bode well. ‘Really? What did he want to know?’ He hoped he portrayed only a mild interest.

Raymond hesitated with an awkward look on his face. ‘Er, I’m probably speaking out of turn.’

Harry gave an encouraging smile. ‘Not at all. It doesn’t matter, I can ask him myself if you’d rather not.’

‘He just wanted to see her booking information. Name, home address, telephone number, vehicle registration, who she worked for, that’s all. There isn’t anything else on the booking sheet.’

‘That’s all I want too. If you can print me off a copy.’ Harry waited patiently and took the printout, giving it a quick glance-over before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Thanking Raymond, he went into the private rooms, where his mother was sitting at the dining table eating scrambled egg on toast.

‘Ah, there you are,’ said Pru. ‘Are you going to join me for breakfast?’

Harry grabbed a slice of toast and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’ll just get some coffee. Won’t be a minute.’

Leaving his mother, he went out to the kitchen, and while he was waiting for the coffee machine to do its stuff he took out his phone and the piece of paper Raymond had given him. After noting her number and storing it on his phone, Harry sent Steph a quick text message. He wanted to be sure she would still turn up.

Looking a bit grey out there today. Might need a waterproof. See you at 10.

It was probably needless. He was sure she would be well equipped for the day. All the same, it would be a good excuse to text her and to ensure she had his number.

He took his coffee back through to the dining room and sat down with his mother.

Pru had finished her scrambled eggs and was now sipping her tea. She looked over at his black coffee. ‘Aren’t you going to have anything proper to eat?’

‘A bit early for me. I’ve had a slice of toast. To be honest, I prefer brunch.’

‘I suppose that’s a habit you’ve picked up in France. I thought the French loved their breakfast. Fresh croissants, hot chocolate …’