‘Helicopter maybe?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Not in this weather.’ Faith, cups her hands over her eyes, and continues to look out. ‘A boat seems the likely option, but I can’t see any sign of one, and it’s still pretty rough out there, even though the storm’s died down a bit.’ She turns and heads towards the bar. ‘Anyone else need a big drink? Because I do.’

Leon

The grandfather clock chimes three. Time is passing painfully slowly – as though every second is a minute, every minute an hour. Christine is dozing in a chair by the window, talking in her sleep, mumbling something about fairy cakes, though most of her words are inaudible. How she can sleep at all is beyond Leon’s understanding. The thought of closing his eyes against this fear feels impossible. His whole body is on hyper-alert, his eyes darting the shadows.

Lori and Faith lie stretched full-length on benches like corpses, one each side of a table. Both awake, but so still and silent.

There’s no sign of Gabriela, or Cameron, and Mitch is still in his room.

Alice and Leon sit on a sofa, his arm draped around her shoulders. Her head is pressed against his chest, and he wonders if she can hear the fast thud of his heartbeat, or the sound of his mind whizzing and whirring with everything that’s happened – not only since they arrived at Flynn Hotel, but also before – long before. Despite this awful situation, he knows he must tell her what he knows. They haven’t been this close in so long. If he keeps this from her, it could ruin everything; though if he tells her, could it be worse?

He takes a deep breath. ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Alice,’ he says quiet enough so the other women can’t hear. What he has to say is for Alice’s ears only. ‘It’s never going to be a good time,’ he goes on, ‘but I need you to hear what I have to say, before we get back to Whitby. Before the police come. Before it all comes out.’

‘What are you talking about?’ She peers up at him with worried eyes. ‘You’re freaking me out, Leon.’

‘It’s about Tegan …’ He stops, takes a deep breath.

‘Tegan?’

‘The thing is, she told me she was in love with your dad.’ It comes out fast, the words falling over each other – as though they’ve been crammed into a dark cupboard, and the door has finally opened, springing the contents free.

‘What?’ Alice pulls herself upright, away from him, stares deep into his eyes. ‘What are you talking about? Of course Tegan wasn’t in love with my dad. She was his literary agent, for God’s sake.’

‘It was more than that, Alice.’ He tries to order the words he knows he has to say. ‘Apparently they had a thing.’