‘That’s a bit of an over-reaction, surely,’ Christine says. ‘A mouse might have bitten through it. I’ve seen a few scampering about. We really mustn’t over-react.’ She picks up a black handbag, places it onto the stool she just vacated, and unzips it. ‘I’ll call the boatyard on my mobile.’

But Alice knows by the bewildered look on Christine’s face as she rummages in her bag exactly what the woman is going to say when she looks up, and her heart thuds.

‘Problem?’ Leon says, as Christine stops searching.

‘My phone,’ she says, staring at him. ‘It was here. It’s gone.’

‘Not you too.’ He sounds agitated. ‘This is bloody ridiculous. What the hell is going on here?’

‘Maybe Gabriela has a phone.’ Alice glances over her shoulder towards the bar.

‘Well let’s ask her, shall we?’ Christine places her hand on her laptop, as though about to close it.

‘No wait.’ Alice pulls away from Leon’s stare. ‘Look up the number of the boatyard first. It will save time.’

‘Yes, good idea.’ Christine picks up a pen and jots down the word ‘boatyard’ on a Post-it Note, in small, spiky letters. Alice knows she’s seen the handwriting before. It’s the same as the writing on the envelope she received a few weeks ago that contained the photo of Flynn House.

‘You sent me the photo,’ Alice says, her tone challenging.

Christine looks up, the pen suspended in her hand, her neck flushing. ‘Sorry?’

‘The photo of Flynn House, you sent it to me.’

‘What’s this about?’ Leon’s eyes flick from Alice to Christine.

‘I recognise her handwriting. She sent me a photo of Flynn House, to Butterfly Cottage.’ Her narrowed eyes bore into the woman. ‘Why the hell would you do that?’

‘Is this true?’ Leon asks.

Christine puts down the pen. Runs a finger around the collar of her dress and nods. ‘I recall sending an envelope to you Alice, to Butterfly Cottage. The address stood out, because it was the home of the author … your father, the one who was in all the papers when he … but—’

‘Why? Why would you send it without saying why?’ Alice’s legs feel weak. This is ridiculous.

Christine shakes her head. ‘I didn’t. Well I did. But I didn’t know what was inside the envelope. You have to believe me. Cameron Patterson left out the envelope and your address, asked me to send it.’

Leon furrows his forehead, takes hold of Alice’s hand. ‘But you said you’ve only just started here at the hotel. That you haven’t met Cameron.’