Pressing send, she threw the phone on the bed and hurried into the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, she studied her reflection. There was no salvaging her hair, except… In a flash of inspiration, she upended her make-up bag into the sink, scrabbling among the various items until she found what she was looking for.

Hair mascara.

A few months ago, she had found a single errant grey hair. In a state of panic she had plucked it out and immediately raced to the shops. She couldn’t put a colour on; that was done by her very expensive stylist and she wasn’t due an appointment for another four weeks. If grey hairs were going to start prematurely springing up, she needed something on hand for immediate use.

As luck would have it, no more grey hairs had appeared, and now she had a full tube of jet-black hair covering. It wouldn’t do long term, she noted as she scraped the wand over the worst of the blotches; tomorrow she would go back to the salon as soon as they opened and demand that they fix the mess they had made of her hair.

And she would go alone.

She paused mid stroke, wondering why she had thought that. It was hardly Anna’s fault that the hairdresser had messed up. She dashed the thought away and scrutinised her reflection. Perhaps the stylist could lighten her hair all over so that the orange bits blended in. She put the mascara wand down carefully on the edge of the sink and shook her hair out. She’d never been a blonde. And weren’t they supposed to have more fun? She thought of Anna, her tousled sun-kissed hair flying around as she laughed with Tommy, and shivered.

When had Paula last laughed like that with him? They had certainly laughed a lot at the beginning of their relationship, when they were both students, when nothing seemed very important and life was all about fun. Then came jobs and responsibility, new houses and mortgages. And even though they were the most financially comfortable they had ever been, there didn’t seem to be much to laugh about these days.

She missed the way they used to be. She realised that so far they had spent barely any time together on this holiday. They were supposed to be making a baby, and yet he hadn’t even come near her. Once again she thought of him downstairs, with his fishing buddies and Anna.

After dinner they would come back to the suite, she vowed. They would spend the evening in bed, she would even open a bottle of champagne, and later they would sit in the big chairs in front of the French windows and watch the stars and, if they were really lucky, the Northern Lights.

There was something different about Paula as she made her way out of the elevator and raised her hand as she spotted them.