She was about to leave her room when her phone pinged. It was Rory.

Alex told me you’re at the hostel. Hope you’re okay? Are you doing anything tonight? Milly is over from Berlin. Want to join us for dinner?

Company. An escape from her own thoughts. She wrote back immediately. Yes please.

Great! He sent through the details of the restaurant. See you at 8 ☺

Outside, she found a spare seat at the edge of the common room. She pretended to be looking at her phone, even as she listened to everything around her. Again, so many different accents and languages. Flirting and conversation and music. She heard snatches of travel stories and travel plans. Talk of Interrail passes. Pickpocketing mishaps. Attempts at scams. Bursts of laughter from the bar.

She turned as one of the staff came in with a box of wine and started to restock the shelves. A memory flash of that dinner with Olivia. The news that Alex was stealing from the Montgomery, taking their alcohol to stock his own hostel bar.

As if she had conjured him out of nowhere, he was suddenly there beside her.

‘I do hope everything is to your satisfaction, madam,’ he said, taking a seat beside her, stretching out his lanky frame. She sensed admiring glances from some of the travellers around them. She felt a dart of gratitude that her attraction to him had been years ago and short-lived.

She thanked him again. Told him she was very happy.

‘You’re dining with Rory and Milly tonight, I hear? Sorry I can’t join you.’ He laughed at the expression on her face. ‘The Montgomery jungle drums beat loud and clear. I always know what Rory’s doing. He always knows what I’m doing. He might not always approve, but I tell him anyway.’

She couldn’t stop a glance at the bar. He noticed and raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me, Olivia has shared that particular jewel from the family treasure chest of secrets with you, has she?’

Eliza didn’t want to get involved. ‘It’s nothing to do with me, Alex. It’s your family’s business.’

‘But you’re almost family.’ Alex was relaxed. ‘Did she complain to you about my unlicensed borrowing of artwork as well?’

Eliza didn’t know what he meant. He pointed to the wall beside the bar, then to the wall behind the reception desk. There were paintings on each. One was of an Australian country road, purple shadows in a deep green valley, in a golden frame. She remembered seeing it on her first day here. Hanging in one of the hallways of the Montgomery.

She couldn’t hide her surprise. ‘You’ve been taking paintings from the hotel too?’