‘You’ve only just opened?’ Alice looks at Leon, and he shrugs. She hadn’t realised.

‘Yes. You’re Cameron Patterson’s first guests. Though he hasn’t set foot outside of his cottage on the other side of the island since I arrived. I’ve received most of my instructions by email.’ Alice observes once more the woman’s broad accent. ‘It’s all a bit suck-it-and-see, if you get my meaning. Anyway, enough of my moaning – you haven’t come all this way to listen to my problems.’ She lets out a strange little laugh.

There’s something about the fast-talking woman, the twang of anxiety in her voice, that isn’t helping Alice’s own jitters about staying over, but she knows it’s far too late to change her mind. ‘It looks incredible,’ she says, unable to tear her eyes from the splendour of the building. It’s exactly like the photographs online, the picture she received in the post, how she saw the place in her dreams, yet somehow more haunting. ‘Amazing.’

‘Oh yes, you’ll love it.’ Christine nods. ‘It has five guest bedrooms – boutique they call it, don’t they? And I pretty much do everything. There’s Gabriela, of course, who thankfully turned up like some kind of angel on Thursday afternoon asking for work. She tends to the bar, and cleans the rooms. Sweet girl. Though, between you and me, she barely speaks a word of English. Oh dear, I’m not really selling the place, am I? You’ll be diving over the side and swimming for the mainland, if I don’t stop.’

‘It’s fine, I’m sure we’ll have a brilliant time,’ Leon says, gripping Alice’s hand, and they exchange a smile.

‘I do hope so.’ Christine nods several times. ‘Just wait until you see inside. It’s a cracking place. Mr Patterson bought it in 2017, and renovated the building to a very high standard.’

She revs the engine, and as they speed through the darkness towards the imposing building, the wind whips Alice’s hair across her face, and a chill grips her spine.

‘We’re meeting a friend here,’ Alice says. ‘I wondered if—’

‘All expected guests have arrived,’ Christine says, steering the boat towards a similar jetty to the one on the mainland, lined with lit pumpkins, and swinging lanterns. There’s a shed nearby, and a steep hill – lined with more lanterns – leads up to the hotel. An expanse of grass in front of large patio windows takes you to the cliff edge, and a pathway leads towards a wooded area. ‘Right, here we are then.’ Christine helps them onto dry land, surprisingly strong for a small woman, and hands them their holdalls. She moors the boat, then, with quick strides, makes her way up the hill towards the hotel, her head down against the wind. ‘I’ll go on,’ she calls. ‘Get ready for you.’