‘You know? I’d like something with a view,’ said the man. ‘But I don’t see any of the rooms on your website.’

‘I’m sorry about that. The website is under construction.’

Dan waved at her, mouthing something. She turned her back.

‘They all have very pretty views,’ she said. She seemed to feel Alex smile at her. It was the first time she’d had a sense of his presence. ‘They’re all en suite.’

‘OK, well, I guess I’ll just go ahead and book that,’ said the American.

‘OK, good. Could I have your name?’

‘It’s Bannam. B, A, double N, A, M – for mother.’

She wrote it down. ‘Great.’

He hung up.

‘Oh. He’s gone,’ said Bea.

‘What the hell?’ said Dan. ‘A booking?’

They began to laugh, together. They couldn’t stop. The phone rang again. Bea turned away, to answer.

‘This is Hélène Guerin, from the Centre Fleuriat.’

She forgot about laughing. ‘Thank you for getting back to me,’ she said. ‘I’ve found a funeral director, in London, and they’ve asked me to find out how long it will be before we have a death certificate.’

‘I can’t tell you. You should speak to the British Consulate.’

‘I’ve spoken to the consulate already.’

‘Oh, good, you have a contact there,’ said Hélène Guerin.

Bea could hear her father, as if he were in the room, shouting about French red tape.

‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s not good.’

‘That’s all I can do.’

Bea detected impatience in her voice, and was astounded. The woman had been assigned to help them. She was all they had.

‘We don’t know what’s happening,’ said Bea. ‘Why do you still have my brother’s body? How long will you keep it?’

‘I understand, madame, but these things always take time. I told you before, because the circumstances of his death were not clear, there are many things to be done. It’s normal.’

‘In what way are the circumstances not clear?’

Dan, on the bottom step, watched her, trying to understand.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help,’ said Hélène Guerin. She was not sorry.

After she put the phone down, Bea called the consulate again, and caught Charlotte Pelham, the vice consul, as she was leaving for the day.

‘We don’t know what’s happening,’ said Bea. ‘Nobody’s telling us anything.’

‘Do you remember I mentioned before, it’s usual here to hire a lawyer in a situation like this?’ said the vice consul.

Bea could hear her packing up her bag. That was what it sounded like. She pictured her rummaging through her make-up.

‘But why would we need a lawyer?’

‘In any death where the police are involved they, and the authorities, are happier to deal with lawyers. It’s the way it’s done.’

‘The way what’s done? I’m sorry. I’m being slow.’