‘I can come on the tour if you want me to – I don’t mind,’ Leon says, as Alice rises, about to follow Faith, Mitch and Lori across the bar towards reception. But his eyes look heavy. She knows he’s exhausted after the long drive.

‘No, it’s fine, honestly.’ The tour of the hotel isn’t Leon’s thing. In fact, the whole place is way out of his comfort zone. And the increasing unease she’s felt since they arrived is nudging at her too. But she has to do this tour – she’s sure her father is connected to this place in some way, and she needs to find out how.

The grandfather clock chimes nine as the guests congregate in reception. The young couple from the bar sit together on the sofa, arms wrapped around each other. The woman giggles, tossing her red bobbed hair. She’s dressed in narrow black trousers and a black blouse, her bra visible beneath it. She looks familiar.

Christine gives a little cough, trying to catch everyone’s attention, and Alice’s eyes move to where she’s standing with her clipboard. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asks her.

‘Yes! Yes …’ Christine’s eyes are on the paperwork attached to the clipboard. She looks up suddenly, tears forming behind her red-framed glasses. ‘Well no, actually.’ Her voice is a wobble. ‘It’s just … well … Cameron hasn’t turned up, and his phone goes straight to voicemail … so it looks as though I’m going to have to do it, the tour I mean, and although I have notes, and I know the place quite well from the bumph he emailed to me earlier this week …’ She fumbles a tissue from her cardigan pocket, and sniffs into it. ‘I’m so sorry, everyone. I realise this is all a bit Fawlty Towers, and it doesn’t give a good impression of the hotel, but I hadn’t realised I would have so much responsibility when I accepted the job.’ She’s talking fast, her Suffolk accent broader than ever. ‘Mark, my son, wondered if it might be too much for me, especially after my Terry’s death, and I’ve been suffering terribly with the menopause. But truth is, now Mark’s living in France … I’d become lonely and thought this might be just the ticket. Mark doesn’t understand that I need to be doing something with my time, and I would never tell him how I feel. He’s got to get on with his own life without worrying about his mum—’

‘Don’t worry, Christine.’ Lori grabs her wrist, as though pulling on a brake, her voice assertive. She’s taller than Christine, slimmer, more attractive. Both of a similar age, but so very different. ‘The hotel will sell itself. Let’s take a walk around the place, and you can tell us what you know.’