The man, who was no more than a boy really, flushed scarlet. ‘Mark Taylor,’ he said, and his voice was pitched high when he spoke the dead man’s name. ‘We understand he was… spending some time with you.’

She nodded sagely. ‘I haven’t seen Mark since we stopped in Norway. He had a load of his stuff with him, backpack and all that. I assumed his stint had finished and he was disembarking there.’

‘Oh.’ The young man scratched at his head, clearly perplexed.

Anna smiled and put a hand on his arm. The wool of his jacket was soft under her fingers. ‘Why don’t you call him? I’m sure he’ll be able to explain the mix-up.’

‘Yes,’ he said, and his eyes darted everywhere except at her. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

She watched as he scurried away.

When he had vanished from sight, the smile slipped from her face. Mark had told the crew about her; they all knew, and as far as they were concerned, she was the last link to him.

She rubbed at her face, thought about the newspaper with the photo of her, wanted in connection with William’s death. The net was closing in, and there was still another day until they docked in Iceland. Then, of course, there was the journey home.

When they couldn’t get hold of Mark, would they check the CCTV on board the Ruby Spirit? What areas did the cameras cover? Not inside the suites, she knew. There was no chance of the killing being captured on film. But what about the hallways? What if the last sighting they had of him was at her door?

Her stomach flipped at the thought. Walking fast, she moved towards the casino’s exit and back to her suite.

After fixing her face, and putting on her own coat, Paula opened the door a crack and peeped out. There was no sign of Tommy. She bit her lip, wondered if he was in Anna’s suite, in her bed; perhaps they were drinking champagne and feeding each other from the complimentary fruit basket.

She pulled the door closed behind her and hurried down the hall towards the lift. Was it too late to make this right? If she apologised for lying about taking the pill, perhaps he in turn would be contrite about his behaviour with that witch in the casino. He was drunk, after all, and they hadn’t actually done anything.

More than anything she wanted to talk to Julie, and she wondered if there was an internet café or a bank of computers on board that she could use to communicate with her friend. She would ask at the information desk, she thought, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the disgraced stylist on duty again.