The elderly guest moved to the lift. Olivia put a reassuring arm around Eliza as they stepped forward.

‘Alex, not that you need an introduction, but let me reintroduce you. My goddaughter, Eliza. Eliza, you remember Alex, my stepson?’

‘Of course.’ She held out her hand, feeling as though she was channelling Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, pretending to be polished. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘Is it?’ Alex said. ‘I bet you’re thinking, I wish he’d moved away. I wish I didn’t have to see him again, the mean self-obsessed spoilt brat, who humiliated me so badly the last time I was here.’

Eliza was too jetlagged to pretend otherwise. ‘Yes, I am.’

Alex stepped out from behind the desk. ‘That was juvenile of me. I was trying to show off to my friends. I’m sorry. It was a very sweet letter. If you write to me again, I promise I’ll take it much more seriously.’

Eliza glanced at Olivia. She was watching with one eyebrow raised.

Alex noticed. ‘Olivia, do you doubt my sincerity?’

‘Never, Alex.’

He grinned, as charmingly confident as he’d been all those years ago. ‘Shall we start afresh, Eliza? We’re practically cousins, after all. No, let’s forget being related and start afresh as friends, yes?’

Disarmed, she took his outstretched hand as he gave a bow.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I can start sleeping at night again. Olivia gave me such a telling off. I’ve been riddled with guilt for the last, what is it, ten years?’

‘Nearly fourteen,’ Eliza said.

‘That long? What kept you?’

A guest came up to the desk.

‘Excuse me,’ Alex said, ‘but duty calls. So good to have you here, Eliza. Settle in, and then we’ll plan some outings together. If you can bear to be in my company unchaperoned?’

Olivia was openly rolling her eyes. ‘Thank you, Alex.’ She waited until they’d walked away before she spoke. ‘He should come with a health warning.’

‘He was so nice.’

‘Like a charming crocodile, yes. Don’t fall for it again. He is Edgar’s son, and I’ll always love him for that, but proceed with caution.’

After their pre-dinner drink in the small bar, they were escorted by a smiling waitress to the opulent dining room, with its low lights, linen tablecloths and gleaming silverware. Midway through her main course of grilled trout and crisp vegetables, Eliza’s eyelids began to grow heavy.

‘If you can last one more hour, I’ll let you go,’ Olivia said. ‘The closer you get to local time —’

‘Excuse me, Olivia.’

A serious-faced man with grey-flecked dark hair was standing by their table.

‘Lawrence,’ Olivia said. ‘Let me introduce my goddaughter, Eliza Miller. Eliza, this is our general manager, Lawrence Greene.’

They exchanged greetings, then Lawrence turned to Olivia. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt but —’

‘Celine?’

He nodded.