He turned sharply, moved towards the door. As he passed the coat hook, he stopped and stared. She followed his eyeline to the pink beret, only partially hidden behind her tailored black coat. He glanced back at her, his gaze moving swiftly past to settle on the floor behind her.

She didn’t turn around to see what he was looking at. She knew it was there, the stolen waxed coat. She remained defiantly still and silent.

Finally, he spoke. ‘Thank you for your help.’

She released the breath she had been holding. ‘If I can be of any further—’

‘His wife’s name is Belle,’ Patrick interrupted her.

Caught in a lie.

When cornered, do nothing, say nothing, she reminded herself.

‘I’ll be in touch.’ He smiled, but it was cold and distrustful.

After a moment, he put his cap back on and left the suite. As she listened to his footsteps out in the corridor, she stared at the door, which he had left open.

Caught in a lie.

With a strangled sound that she tried to push down, she ran to the door and kicked it closed.

‘I’m going down to the bar.’

Paula sat on the bed and watched Tommy through the open bathroom door as he smoothed back his hair. She didn’t push for an invitation; there was really very little point. It stung, though, and she sat up straighter and called through to him.

‘I’ll try and stay awake. Keep an eye out for the lights!’ Her voice was falsely jovial, a tone she hated. She was only just beginning to realise how much she used it when she spoke to him.

‘Sure,’ he replied.

She didn’t know if it was an agreement or a question. Either way, he had responded, and that was a good thing.

He was humming to himself now in the bathroom, and she felt her muscles relax at the sound. He was simmering down, their earlier argument drifting away. In the back of her mind she knew it was a bad thing that they hadn’t actually discussed anything, either his inappropriate behaviour with Anna in the casino or her own deception about the pill. There had been no resolution, just bitter acrimony on his part that came off him in waves. She had backed off, apologised, fallen to her knees and accepted the blame for everything.

As usual.

A sour taste filled her mouth, the familiar taste of disappointment. More at herself than him. And now she was expected to stay alone here in the suite until he decided to come to bed.