She gave her a carton of apple juice, which she said was good for rehydration. Marnie obediently drank the juice and, definitely feeling a bit better, went back to the holiday park. As she was walking past the service area, she met Alice Lang, who was leaning against the wall outside the launderette, one foot pressed against it, flowers tumbling from the planters behind her, talking to Guy. Alice asked Marnie if Marnie would wait for her laundry that was in the tumble drier in the launderette. And that’s what Marnie had done. While she was in the laundry room, it occurred to her that she could steal some detergent to take back home to the caretaker’s cottage to wash the bedding. So she swiped a box of Daz that one of the holidaymakers had left on top of a machine and hid it amongst the flowers in the bed outside. She never went back to collect it.

45

Will let himself into the guesthouse. He stood on the coir Welcome mat by the front door, Mr deVillars’ words ringing in his ears.

What if there was some truth in what the old man had said? What if Will had hurt Alice but had been too drunk to remember? What if he was the one responsible for her death?

No. No! He must not go down that rabbit hole. He mustn’t.

Everything was so quiet in the guesthouse that the tick-tocking of the clock in the hall seemed obscenely loud. Will stood perfectly still, giving Mr deVillars time to drive away. When enough minutes had elapsed, he peered through the small hall window. The car was gone.

Will turned back into the house.

‘Hello!’ he called. There was no response. ‘Hello! Mr Bradshaw! Hello!’

He listened hard. He heard nothing. Not the creak of a floorboard above him. No movement. Nothing.

For good measure, he picked up the guest hand-bell on the radiator shelf and rang it as hard as he could. Chimes echoed up the stairwell and bounced from the walls, but nobody came. Will had the house to himself. Thank the actual fuck.

He had been so shaken by the encounter with Mr deVillars that the first thing he did was slip into Mr Bradshaw’s living room and help himself to a large swig from one of the two decanters on the silver tray on the cabinet. Its contents were sweet and syrupy – sherry, probably – but the alcohol hit Will’s bloodstream instantaneously, for which he was grateful, and soon his heartrate began to calm. He took another swig and then wiped the rim with his sleeve, replaced the stopper and put the decanter back where he’d found it. He breathed deeply, trying to process what he’d been told.

Mr deVillars knew that John Morahan had found him outside Caravan 49 the night Alice disappeared and taken him back to his mother’s chalet.

Someone had heard his drunken threats.