She had gone to Celine’s room, prepared for the worst, she explained. As expected, there had been another shouting match. Celine refused to believe Olivia’s story about her room needing urgent redecoration. More insults followed. Swearing, in English and French. The letter from Edgar was brandished again. Then, midway through their argument, Celine’s mobile phone had rung. Olivia quickly gathered it was her estranged husband calling from France.

‘He rang her all the time when I was with her,’ Eliza said. ‘She never answered.’

‘This time she did,’ Olivia said.

Maxie sat back, smiling, clearly waiting to enjoy hearing this story again.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Olivia said. ‘Celine turned from a wild tiger into a purring kitten. She started speaking to him in a kind of creepy little-girl voice.’ She shuddered. ‘“Is my chouchou ringing to say a big sorry to his little baby at last?” Then she switched to French. I could only understand some of it, but it was bad, believe me.’

Eliza found herself suppressing a shudder too.

‘She was making him promise all sorts of things. Expensive gifts, mostly. I wanted to stay and eavesdrop, but she shooed me out. Literally. Waved her hands at me.’

‘As if Olivia was a fly!’ Maxie said. ‘So rude!’

‘So I waited outside until I couldn’t hear them talking any more —’

‘Fighting the nausea,’ Maxie said.

‘Then I came back in, fully expecting another fight about the hostel. Instead she was at her wardrobe, pulling all her clothes out. Flinging them everywhere. She ordered me to “fetch” you, Eliza. She’d clearly forgotten you were in Ireland. She said she had “decided” to go home to France. That it had nothing to do with my “nonsense” about the hostel. That she’d never have moved there, in any case. She was leaving only because it suited her, now that her husband had come to his senses. Then she insisted that as she was being so accommodating by vacating the room for refurbishment, it was only fair, as she was an esteemed family member —’

Maxie laughed.

‘That we cover her travel costs back to France. A business-class flight that evening. The shipping costs of all her research material too. Every last page and photo of it.’

‘And you agreed?’

‘I’d have paid her costs to the moon if I had to. I not only agreed, I helped her pack.’

‘The two of you, working side by side?’

‘Not in a pink fit. It was a truce, not a reconciliation. She booked herself in for a facial at the spa down the road and left me to it. I called on four of the housekeeping staff to help me while she was gone.’

‘And that’s it? She’s actually gone? For good?’