There were silver candlesticks on the table, with unlit church-like candles. At the far end was an alcove in which stood a life-size marble statue of a naked man on a plinth, looking down on them. He had one arm raised and folds of what looked like fabric draped over the other arm. Was he a Greek god, Roy wondered? He’d never been good on mythology.

‘Something must have happened to Jack,’ Kaitlynn said, sounding really worried and upset. ‘This is so not like him.’

‘Perhaps he’s been abducted by aliens?’ Bruno suggested. ‘You know, French ones?’

‘That’s really not very helpful, Bruno,’ Cleo said.

‘They happen,’ he said, defiantly. ‘Alien abductions. I read it in a magazine. People driving along one moment, and the next, whoosh – they’re gone, sucked up into a spaceship! The next time anyone sees them they’re all totally weird.’

‘Yeah, and I read about small boys being eaten by a tribe of monsters in the woods,’ Kaitlynn retorted. ‘How come they missed you?’

‘Hey!’ Roy said. ‘Cool it. Bruno, we’re all concerned about Jack, OK? It’s not funny.’

‘Really?’ Bruno answered. ‘Is that why we’re all sitting here stuffing our faces, if we’re all so concerned?’

Roy stood up, holding his phone. ‘I’ll see if I can get a signal outside.’

‘Darling, finish your food first,’ Cleo said. ‘You’ve not eaten anything for hours.’

‘I’m just going to the front door to see if I can get a better signal. I’ll be right back.’

He walked out into the hall. Stepping into the porch, he saw in front of him a wall of pelting rain, and then a streak of lightning. Checking his phone, there was still no signal. All the same, he tried calling Jack. But nothing happened. He tapped out a text and tried sending it.

It would not go.

He went back into the hall, looking warily at all the suits of armour. He felt like each of them had someone inside, watching him through the eye slits, as he walked back towards the dining room. But just before he reached the entrance, he saw a door off to the right and, curious, went over to it.

It led into a huge drawing room, furnished with antique sofas, tables and display cabinets full of silverware and ornaments. Three of the walls were hung with oil paintings in gilded frames. Some looked like portraits of ancestors, others were landscapes, hunting scenes and beautifully painted pictures of horses and dogs.

On the fourth wall, above an ornate marble fireplace, were dozens and dozens of framed photographs, all signed. Among them were a number of celebrities he recognized – rock stars and actors, some living, some long dead – and some faces he did not recognize. It looked like a Hall of Fame of past guests.