‘I’m a city boy, aren’t I? And I don’t speak French.’

‘I do. We’ll be fine. I’m nervous too.’

He didn’t ask her what about. The sun had gone from the field and the river wasn’t blue any longer, but colourless. The cows stood out whitely, eating.

‘Let’s go,’ said Dan.

They got back into the car. He pulled out onto the narrow road just as a tractor hurtled round the bend. He braked. The tractor sped by, noisy and bright blue. Dust floated. Dan had stalled the car.

‘Forgot to look,’ he said. ‘Wrong side of the road.’

‘He was going way too fast.’

They were very close to Alex’s hotel now. The road went on and on, feeling longer than it was because it was unknown. Then, at last, they saw a pair of tall iron gates and a smart, hand-painted sign: Hotel Paligny.

‘Turn in,’ said Bea.

Dan turned in and drove up the short driveway towards a medium-sized nineteenth-century building, half covered in vines.

‘Looks all right,’ he said, impressed. ‘So, what, your dad just – bought this for him?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Bea.

‘It must make good money.’

‘You think?’

There were no other cars. They both got out of the Peugeot. Dan went up the steps to the closed door and peered through the glass.

‘Doorbell,’ said Bea, pointing.

The bell was nestled in leaves along with an RAC badge: 2 Stars. Dan pressed it and they heard ringing inside but nothing happened.

‘Where is he?’ he said. He pressed the bell again, insistently, and knocked. ‘Fuck. What do we do now?’

They checked their phones. Signal but no messages.

‘He must be out,’ said Bea.

‘Out,’ said Dan. The word was loaded.

The place looked deserted except for an open sash window on the first floor. They separated and walked to the edge of the weedy gravel, looking into the surrounding trees. Dan disappeared round the corner of the building. Bea waited. A plane crossed the sky, so high it made no sound. Dan came back.

‘What’s there?’ she asked.

‘Side door. It’s locked. And a path, to the road, I think.’

‘He’ll probably be back any minute.’

‘Yeah, but, Bea – a receptionist? People?’

‘He wouldn’t have asked us if it wasn’t OK –’

‘Then how come it’s shut?’ Anxiety angered him. ‘He could be anywhere.’

‘We only spoke yesterday.’

‘Then he’s forgotten.’

‘He’s not completely non-functioning.’

‘Sometimes he is, Bea, by the sounds of it. From what you tell me, sometimes he is completely non-functioning.’

Facing each other, ready for a fight, they heard a car, and a black Renault came quickly through the gates and pulled up, grinding its tyres as it stopped. Alex got out before the brake had completely taken.

‘Shit! Bea! I’m really sorry!’

Dirty jeans and a faded T-shirt, messy hair, smiling. He wrapped his sinewy arms around her.

‘I’m really, really sorry,’ he said again, to Dan, over her shoulder.

‘It’s so fine!’ said Bea. ‘We literally just got here.’