William’s money would soon be gone, and Anna needed more. It was as bad as an addiction, the primal need she had for security. And time was running out. Although the newspaper and old Mr Henderson had put her in her early twenties, she was actually halfway through her thirties. She looked good because she didn’t eat, and she took care of her skin and worked out and kept herself looking young and elfin. But the terror age was looming, and she wasn’t anywhere near where she needed to be when she reached forty.

This was her one big chance. The chance to have Paula’s life.

She didn’t know what she was looking for, not really. Just anything that could extend the rip that was already there in the couple’s marriage. In the bathroom she opened the cabinet and looked inside. His and hers wash bags, Tommy’s plain black, Paula’s designer. She pulled Tommy’s off the shelf, poked around among the razors, hair gel, aftershave and moisturiser. She rummaged around in her own bag and pulled out a box of condoms. Taking two out, she slipped one into Tommy’s toiletry bag, which she put back on the shelf, then placed the other one so it was just visible.

She moved out into the main living area, opening drawers, the wardrobe, the suitcases that sat behind the couch. There was nothing of interest, she thought, feeling disappointed as she came to the end of her search. At random, she pulled a couple of Paula’s tops and trousers out of the wardrobe and shoved them in her own bag. The woman had brought what looked like her entire wardrobe; Anna wondered if she would even realise there were items missing.

She hoped so.

She did another turn around the suite, verifying that Tommy hadn’t left his phone in the room. She’d wanted that, wanted to prevent him from looking further at the article about William and the damning photo of herself. She sighed. Oh well, couldn’t win them all.

And then, the last place, the bedside table. A pile of euros, not neatly stacked but haphazard piles and crumpled notes. She slipped some into her purse.

‘Has anyone handed in an iPhone?’ Paula asked at the information desk. ‘I lost it a couple of days ago.’

The girl stared at her with narrowed eyes and shook her head. ‘Nope,’ she replied.

Startled by the woman’s seemingly uncaring demeanour, Paula wandered back to Tommy. ‘She was rude,’ she said.

Tommy glanced back to the reception desk. ‘Was she?’ he asked through a yawn.

She sighed. She would have to accept that her phone was gone, probably back on the bench in Åndalsnes. It was the end of the Instagram posts she’d planned for this trip, not that she’d been in the mood to put anything on social media so far.