And that was why she had changed tack. Once Tommy was on his own, there would be nobody to stop her. No son or daughter swooping in to take care of their dad. There was only one snag: he needed to think less of his wife. She had seen it at the beginning, the tension that simmered between them, the discord, the niggles. She needed to widen that gap of dislike and distaste, and she’d thought she had been succeeding. Only tonight, when Paula had arrived for dinner, Tommy had looked at his wife with something that was almost a new love.

It wouldn’t do.

It wouldn’t do at all.

She walked to the side of the ship and rested her hand on the narrow gate set into the railing. Spotting a bolt at the bottom, she reached down and slid it back, then pushed on the gate. It opened easily, and she stood in the gap. Just one step forward and she would be below in the waves, no hope of survival.

She closed and bolted it again, then cast a glance around her to make sure nobody had witnessed what she had just done. Why on earth would the gate be there in the first place? She resolved to ask the captain when it was her turn to dine at his table.

Shivering now, she made her way back along the deck towards the inner corridor. At the door, she paused and looked up at the night sky. It was cloudy, the sky threatening rain again. There would be no chance of any sighting of the Northern Lights tonight.

Just then, the door swung open, and a crew member stumbled out, colliding with her.

‘Miss, I’m so sorry,’ he said, whipping his hand behind his back.

She caught the scent of hand-rolled tobacco, saw the smoke that spiralled up behind him. She smiled. ‘I had exactly the same idea,’ she said, ‘but I left my smokes in my suite.’

He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Suite?’ he asked. ‘Not a cabin?’

‘The Arctic Suite,’ she confirmed. ‘Pretty big for one person, I know, but hey.’ She smiled, raised her eyebrows, hoped he’d got the message.

He leaned against the wall as he offered her a pre-made roll-up. She accepted it, bending forward as he cupped his hands around it to light it.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

‘Mark Taylor,’ he replied, ‘at your service.’

She nodded to herself. A man other than Tommy wasn’t in her plan for this cruise, but men were generally stupid, led by their lower half, and this Mark might come in handy. She studied the insignia on his thick woollen coat. Three stripes meant he was at the higher end of the staffing scale. Her mind turned over; he would have access to cabins, the master key to all the suites. He could come in useful, very useful indeed.