But he would be expected to report for duty tomorrow, and when he didn’t turn up, questions would be asked. People might already be asking questions. She knew how workmates were; they generally hung around with each other even when they weren’t on duty, a fact that was even more likely on a cruise ship.

She glanced over her shoulder at his body. Yes, he had to go tonight; she couldn’t risk keeping him in her suite for one more night. She bent her head to her task and spun the bolts harder and faster. The spanner slipped in her bloodied fingers, but she kept going. Finally, the last bolt came free. She picked it up and put it on the threshold, just inside the door.

In the living room area, she stood beside Mark’s body and removed all her clothes. She slipped on the shower cap that came free with the suite, and a pair of rubber gloves.

Now came the really hard work.

It took an age to roll him to the door, and over the threshold. Sweat poured freely down her thin body, and the heat of the chore was a strange contrast to the biting cold outside.

For the final few feet, she put her gloved hands on his thick, cold skin and wedged the corner of the plastic covering under her knees. Carefully she unfurled him, gripping the plastic and rolling it up. Finally, he was on the precipice, the gap just large enough for his bulky frame to be pushed through.

She clung onto his meaty arms as she scanned the horizon. All was quiet, the sea stretching for miles in every direction, black under a cloudy sky; not even a hint of the moon or any stars.

Still keeping hold of Mark, she leaned across him to look down at the balconies below. She clenched her teeth against the chill and with her free arm swiped her eyes clear of the tears that had sprung up in the biting wind.

He would fall straight down, she told herself. He had to. If a gust came and knocked him onto someone else’s balcony, the resulting investigation would be catastrophic. There was nowhere to run to on a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, unlike at William’s house, where she’d been able to pack her things and walk away to another life.

She pushed herself back, gripping Mark with both hands now, and settled into a crouch. The wind was as still as it was ever going to be, and with a primal grunt she shoved at him as hard as she could. His limbs opened up as he fell, arms and legs spread, and for a moment he was flying. It was almost beautiful, she thought. There was no sound as he hit the water; the waves already crashing against the side of the ship disguised any splash.