‘Where is everybody?’ said Dan.

Alex released Bea.

‘So good to finally meet you,’ he said, smiling, like Dan was uncouth for pointing out the obvious before etiquette was observed.

This from the cokehead, thought Dan, this from the smack addict.

‘Hey,’ he said.

Alex moved in for a hug, but Dan dodged it and they shook hands, then Dan stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. Alex grinned and bounced in front of them, the picture of white entitlement, in his crappy T-shirt, as if he wasn’t everything a hotel proprietor shouldn’t be. He looked from one to the other and flung his arms out. He didn’t look like Bea at all, tall and skinny, darker hair than hers.

‘I was getting the dinner in,’ he said proudly, ‘but I fucked up the timing. I had a whole plan.’

He ran back to the Renault and pulled Monoprix bags from the back with his keys in his mouth, then went up the steps, unlocked the door and shoved it with his shoulder. They followed him inside. There was a reception desk in a big hall and down a short passageway behind that, was a door to the garden, letting in almost no light. He dropped the shopping.

‘Have you got your stuff?’

‘Alex,’ said Bea calmly, ‘where is everyone?’

‘Everyone?’ he asked innocently.

‘Aren’t there any guests?’ she said. ‘Where are the staff?’

‘Oh. We’re a bit quiet at the moment. Come on, I’ll show you upstairs, and then we can look around, yeah?’

He ran up the stairs and Bea and Dan followed, not looking at each other.

‘Bea! This is so cool!’

The stairs turned a corner and then there was a corridor off to the left with bedrooms on each side. There were brass numbers screwed to the doors, which was reassuring. With a darting, anxious look, Alex said, ‘This is you. Number 1. It’s the biggest.’

The bedroom had a reproduction bateau-lit with a pink bedspread. Wardrobe. Flowered wallpaper.

‘That’s the bathroom.’ He nodded towards a closed door. ‘It’s en suite.’ He said it as if defending himself against a challenge.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ said Bea. She went to the window. ‘What a view.’

‘Is it? It’s all right, yeah? Look, I’ve got to go down and – everything all right? I’ll leave you to it, yeah? All right, Dan? Dan? Good?’

‘Thanks,’ said Dan, not able to look at him.

Alex hurried away. They heard him humming.

‘What is he, fifteen years old?’ said Dan.

‘Stop it.’

‘It stinks. What’s that smell?’

‘It’s just damp.’

‘He’s had this place how long?’ said Dan. ‘Three years?’

‘Less than two. It’s nice.’

Small stems snapped as she pushed up the sash window. She leaned out. They were above a long garden with a small stone barn at the end of it. Bumpy treetops surrounded the hotel, stretching away. It felt as though you could walk over them and touch the roofs that poked up. The light was fading. The room was musty, but not as bad as the corridor, which smelled of paint as well, and glue.