At first she thought she was seething, shaking with anger. It took her a moment to realise that it wasn’t anger, but fear. Was someone after her? Or – and the second thought was almost worse – was this all in her mind? From the corner of her eye she watched her husband as he gave her one last squeeze and went to the bathroom, leaving the door open. She walked back to the chair she had been sleeping in. Was it even possible that it was Tommy doing this to her? It was a frightening thought, one that she would never have even considered before this trip. He was capable of a lot; she wouldn’t put it past him to have an affair, if she were totally honest with herself. She certainly wouldn’t be shocked if he eyed up other women.

But this… She was being gaslighted. And in a million years she wouldn’t have thought Tommy would have the capacity to do that. And why would he?

He was a narcissist, though, for sure. His response just now proved that.

‘Something’s happening,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if it’s you or me, but something’s changing.’

She heard the toilet flush and the tap running in the bathroom. Tommy didn’t hear her, or if he did, he didn’t reply.

The wind had settled a little, and Anna pulled on the stolen waxed jacket and picked up a towel and a cushion and went out onto the balcony.

She laid the towel on the deck, put the pillow on top of it and knelt down. She stayed still and silent, listening for evidence that either of her neighbours might be outside on their own veranda. Next door, in the Expedition Suite, she thought she heard Paula’s voice, shrill and high, panicked and frightened, though she couldn’t discern the words. There was nothing to be heard from Tommy.

Satisfied that she was alone, she went to work on the bolts. Soon her fingers were red with blisters. It was so cold they didn’t sting, and Anna very rarely felt pain anyway, but the look didn’t really go with the stylish businesswoman persona she was trying to put out there.

In spite of the little piece of meat and the salad she had eaten earlier, the work was even harder than she had anticipated, and she rested as frequently as she dared, which wasn’t that much because this needed to be done before first light. Today was Mark’s day off; he had told her that, back on the night they had slept together. He had said it with a suggestive leer, not even a question, as though she would leap at the chance to spend the day with him.