The green light on the mechanism winked when she pushed the key card in the door, and the lock unsnapped.

Sasha dropped her overnight bag to the floor. The room was absolutely exquisite, and huge. A large sofa covered in red velvet and a matching armchair faced each other across a low coffee table of polished oak – neatly stacked with heavy books about Pre-Raphaelite art and twentieth-century design – and an ornate writing desk was set against a wall beneath a circular mirror. The huge picture window, framed by heavy drape curtains, which were tied back, looked out across the manicured lawn. But the centrepiece of the room was the stately four-poster bed with a canopy that stretched almost to the high ceiling, a chocolate placed on both plump pillows. Everything with legs – the bed, the sofa, the armchair, desk and wardrobe – seemed to have those clawed feet beloved of eighteenth-century furniture makers.

She took out her phone and called Kev, but he didn’t answer, so she opened the wardrobe and inspected the padded hangers, which jangled softly at the slightest touch. There was an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne, two fluted glasses on the tray beside it. Sasha slid the bottle out to read the label, making the ice shiver against the metal of the bucket. Cold water raced down her arm.

When she turned on the bathroom light, the soft motor of an extractor fan began to purr. Sasha admired the marble surfaces and polished fittings. The bath, which stood in the centre of the room on shining black and white tiles, was spacious and its enamel dazzling white, and of course it was hunched on clawed feet of dark metal. Beside the sink was a basket of complimentary soaps, body scrubs, soothing lotions and assorted smellies; a fold-up toothbrush, a miniature comb wrapped in plastic, a tiny bottle of mouthwash, even a packet of floss. Angling the movable hinge on the TV screen set into the wall, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into the bath to see whether she could watch it comfortably from there, and the view was perfect.

Going back into the bedroom, she launched herself backwards on the bed and bounced softly on the springy mattress. She lay staring up at the canopy.

It had been a long time since she’d been in such a calm and peaceful room. Even if she managed to wrangle the occasional lie-in at home, she’d hear her children screeching at each other and stomping all over the house. Enjoying the feel of the clean, crisp cotton sheets on her skin, the serenity of the spacious room, she thought she might have a nap. Or she could soak in a bath full of bubbles, a glass of champagne within reach on the bathroom floor.

‘This is nice,’ she muttered. ‘Very nice.’