“Lissie.” My voice was croaky, and I realised I hadn’t spoken or drunk anything this morning. “Hello, features, Lissie speaking.” Her voice was irritatingly perky. Her out of office message played, and I waited impatiently for the end, and then pressed one to be put through to the switchboard, and asked for Lissie. Out of the shower, I towelled myself down roughly, wrapped the towel around me like a sarong, and then went through to the kitchen to call Lo’s work number, thanking Christ that the credit bar didn’t seem to stop me from using up my free minutes. Even if she didn’t, she could probably find whoever at Lo’s work had made the booking. The boat had been taking them back to – Hull, was it? Or was she flying back? I tried to remember what she’d told me, but I couldn’t. Lo was due back today – although how and when, I had no idea. It was Thursday – wasn’t it? No wait – it was Friday – Friday 26th.

I stood under the shower with the water pounding on my aching head and tried to work out what to do. Three hang-ups, two sweary messages telling me to “get my fucking arse in gear,” and one text from my mobile provider reminding me that I need to get the call bar lifted to run up any further credit. I listened, blearily, to the answerphone messages while the shower heated up and sure enough, they were. There were half a dozen missed calls on my phone, but all from a blocked number, and I strongly suspected they were all Kevin.

Get yourself in the office, pronto, Lewis, before I fire you and give this story to someone else.” “Lo?” barked an Aussie voice down the phone. I grabbed it, glanced at the phone – blocked number – and picked up. By the heat of it against my butt, I guessed it had been going for some time. I was woken, I’m not sure what time, by my cell phone frantically buzzing in my back pocket.

The woman in cabin ten