It was impossible to sit still and she jumped to her feet when she saw a tall, smartly-dressed woman crossing towards her, a hand extending as she drew close. ‘Harriet Summers.’

‘Molly Chatwell.’

‘I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this,’ Harriet said. She held Molly’s hand a moment longer.

The sympathy brought tears that Molly quickly brushed away. ‘Thank you for giving me the opportunity to sort it out,’ she said, ‘my husband will appreciate it too. He’s going through a difficult patch.’ She met the manager’s eyes, saw the steel behind the kindness and knew she’d seen it all before.

‘Come to my office. We’ll get everything taken care of.’ The manager led the way past the reception desk, veering towards a door on the right. Opening it, she indicated that Molly enter. ‘Can I get you some coffee or tea?’

Molly shook her head. She wanted this done and to go home to where she hoped she’d find Jack waiting.

The manager took her seat behind the desk and smiled at her. ‘Sit down, Mrs Chatwell, it will take a minute or two.’ She opened the folder before her and withdrew a sheet of paper, her eyes skimming over it before sliding it across the desk.

Molly picked it up and read the details. The bedroom wasn’t hideously expensive considering how spacious it had been. However, Jack had knocked back a fair amount of alcohol and at London hotel prices, this mounted up. But it was the casino bill that had her eyes widening. Trying to maintain her professionally cool façade, she reached into her bag, withdrew her wallet and took out her credit card. She handed it and the invoice back across the table.

‘Thank you,’ Harriet Summers said before taking a credit card machine from her drawer. She slid the card in, tapped in the amount and handed the machine over.

With an unsteady finger, Molly put in her PIN number and handed it back.

‘Thank you. Oh, and by the way,’ the manager said as they waited, ‘I took the liberty of finding out where your car was taken. It’s in the Wandsworth pound. They’re open until five.’ She took a notelet and passed it across. ‘That’s their number.’

Molly took the slip of paper and put it into her bag. She’d worry about the car tomorrow. ‘That was kind of you, thank you.’

Looking down at the credit card machine, the manager frowned. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, meeting Molly’s eyes, ‘this card has been declined.’

‘That’s ridiculous. I have a 10K credit limit.’ Molly saw the woman’s impassive face, took back the proffered card, and opened her wallet again. ‘Use this one, please.’

There wasn’t a word spoken as the machine beeped, their eyes focused on it, waiting.