‘Don’t worry,’ Bea said, on the phone, ‘I’m going to write down the details of the whole conversation when we get back to the hotel.’

Griff had the lawyer with him. He put him on.

‘Is that Bea? Philip Roche here.’

‘Hi, yes. Dan and I have just been interviewed by the police. I think my parents should both come back.’

It wasn’t necessary, Vincent had already summoned her parents. They were flying out the next morning. Bea hung up.

‘Good,’ she said.

There was a silence.

‘They must have done the post-mortem,’ she said, staring at nothing. ‘Don’t you think? They must have done it by now. How long does it take?’

‘I don’t know, babe.’

‘An hour? A day?’

‘We can ask the lawyer, what’s-his-name.’

‘Philip Roche.’

For the rest of the journey they talked in circles until she said, ‘OK. Enough.’

There was only so much horror she could take. In silence, they approached the Hotel Paligny. They got out of the car looking up at it, against the evening sky.

‘Sometimes it feels completely abandoned,’ she said, ‘and sometimes it’s as if he only just left. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes,’ said Dan.

‘I don’t want to go in.’

‘We have to, though, unless you want to go and find somewhere else?’ said Dan. ‘Like your dad said?’

Her face hardened. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re staying here.’

‘We really don’t have to.’

‘We don’t need a hotel,’ she said stubbornly. ‘We’ve got a hotel.’

‘We could go into Arnay for dinner,’ said Dan. ‘Go to the cafe?’

‘I’m not that hungry,’ said Bea.

‘No, me neither.’

So they went inside.

The hotel felt very empty that night. There was no imprint of its recent visitors, no lingering aftershave smell, nothing different about the things on the desk. It looked undisturbed. It was too big a building to disregard, and they were constantly aware of the rooms around them and the noises that just they were making, with food and plates and clearing up, and their footsteps on the echoing floors. They kept the garden doors locked, and ate in the kitchen, standing up, to avoid the dining room. Bea wondered if Alex had done that when he was alone, or if he’d taken food up to his room. She pictured him eating sandwiches in bed with a book, or by the computer in the hall, watching YouTube, finding friends online.

When they went up to the room, Dan put a chair against the door.

‘Why are you doing that?’ said Bea.

‘Makes me feel better,’ said Dan.

She didn’t argue, but she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t sure if anything frightened her, or if everything did. She had been destroyed already.

‘I forgot to go and get the rent from the farm for your dad,’ said Dan.

‘Fuck ’im,’ yawned Bea, sleep falling like a fog.