‘Darling,’ Cleo corrected him, ‘it’s not a hotel, it’s a chambre d’hôte – French for a posh guest house. Just the owner and his wife, who are our hosts. They probably don’t have the money to mend this drive – and they open their house just to make ends meet.’

‘Let’s hope that the house isn’t in the same condition as the driveway!’ Kaitlynn quipped.

‘I reckon the owners are serial killers!’ Bruno said, excitedly. ‘We’re all going to be murdered.’

‘Thanks, Bruno!’ Kaitlynn said.

Cleo turned to him with a grin. ‘Judging by all the TripAdvisor reviews, there are lots of people who stayed here and didn’t get murdered.’

‘The owners might have written all the reviews themselves,’ he replied.

The avenue wound left, then right, the car bouncing and splashing through deep puddles on what was little more than a cart track. At least the rain had stopped – for now, anyway. They crossed a broken-down bridge over a narrow, swollen stream, and carried on. At last, up ahead were two more pillars, again topped with stone balls.

Beyond, in the murkiness, they could see the silhouette of a huge mansion, with a round tower at one end.

‘Is that it?’ Roy asked. ‘Looks far bigger than in the photos!’

‘Wow, it’s a palace!’ Kaitlynn said, peering up from her phone.

To Roy, the chateau was grand but looked its age, just like the entrance and the bridge they had crossed. It stood on the far side of a circular driveway, with a fancy lake at the front. In the centre of the lake was a fountain, with a statue of a naked cherub – missing its head and an arm – standing on a huge seashell. But the fountain wasn’t working.

Their tyres crunched on the gravel, and Roy pulled up in front of a grand porch, with steps leading up. It would be a lot grander, he thought, with a lick of paint . . .

The front door opened and a mangy grey-and-white mongrel appeared, barking furiously, pulling itself down the steps by its front paws, dragging its hind legs behind it.

‘That’s terrible,’ Cleo said. ‘That poor dog.’

‘This place isn’t quite how it looked on the website,’ Kaitlynn murmured. ‘Maybe someone touched up the photographs just a teeny, weeny bit!’

Two cats appeared, and sat, like sentries, either side of the door. Their eyes seemed to glow yellow.

‘It’s horrible,’ Cleo said.

‘Give it a chance – we’re not seeing it in its best light, darling,’ Roy said.

‘Roy,’ Cleo said, ‘I don’t want to stay here. Let’s drive straight out.’

Tired and frazzled after the long and difficult journey, more driving was the last thing he wanted at this moment.

‘What about Jack?’ Kaitlynn asked, anxiously. ‘He should be here. But I can’t see a car.’