James looks completely taken aback. Bradley flushes to the roots of his hair. ‘What do you mean?’ James stammers.

Matthew leans towards James and Bradley, who are seated together. ‘This is your hotel. Maybe you know something the rest of us don’t.’

‘Like what?’ James says, on the defensive.

‘I don’t know. But I’ve seen you two whispering together. What have you been whispering about?’

‘We haven’t been whispering,’ James says, colouring.

‘Yes, you have, I’ve seen you.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ Ian interjects, ‘they’ve got a hotel to run.’

David turns to James, his face serious. ‘Is it at all possible that there is someone who might wish you – or your hotel – harm?’

Matthew watches James closely. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bradley shaking his head.

James shakes his head stiffly. ‘No. If I thought that was possible I would have said so.’

Matthew sinks back in his chair, dissatisfied, unconvinced. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He looks from James to Bradley and back again. ‘I still think there’s something you’re not telling us.’

David watches as Gwen rises restlessly from her chair and wanders over to the windows. It’s darker by the windows but he can see her in the gloom. She looks out, pointlessly. No one is coming. David leaves his seat and goes to her. He can feel the others watching, but he doesn’t care.

She turns towards him as he approaches. Her eyes are troubled.

‘There’s something I have to ask you,’ she says without preamble, her voice a whisper.

Here it comes, David thinks. She’s going to ask him about his wife. She’s been listening to Riley, he’s sure of it. He should have told Gwen about his past first. He should have told her last night. But it wasn’t the right time. You don’t tell a woman you’re terribly attracted to that you were once arrested for murder.

‘Anything,’ he says, his voice low, his expression open. He will tell her the truth. It’s up to her whether to believe him or not. He can’t hide it; it’s all over the internet.

Gwen glances back at the others around the fire. ‘Not now,’ she whispers. ‘But we need to talk, privately, at some point.’

He nods. It will give him time to prepare what he’s going to say to her. How to put it. He doesn’t want to frighten her away.

All Beverly wants is to go home. She wants to see her children. This hotel no longer seems lovely and luxurious to her – it’s dark and cold and awful. She shudders when she remembers the cellar. It looked like it could be the setting for some horror film. She feels like she’s living in a horror film. This can’t really be happening, not to her. She’s a very normal woman, with a very normal, even dull, life. Nothing exceptional ever happens to her. And deep down, she likes it that way.

It’s horrible to have Dana’s body still lying at the foot of the stairs. Really, it’s too much. She feels a bout of tears coming on, and forces them back.

She wants that body moved. She thinks it’s beginning to smell. It has been lying there since sometime last night. It must be decomposing by now. That must be what that smell is. Can’t anyone else smell it? She’s always had a very acute sense of smell. She’s sensitive; she’s always been sensitive. Teddy’s like that, too. Doesn’t like tags in his clothes, very fussy about his socks. She lifts her wrist to her nose and tries to breathe in her own fading perfume.

As the time ticks by, she finds herself staring at Dana’s body, draped in the ghostly sheet. She couldn’t even look at it before, but she’s glowering at it now. Because she’s afraid of it. She doesn’t want to turn her back on it. It’s irrational, but that’s how she feels. She’s unravelling.

She thinks she sees something moving in the dark, over by the body. A dark shape, a rustling. And now it looks as if Dana is moving slightly under the sheet. She’s heard about that, about bodies moving after death, shifting, because they’re full of gas. She stares more intently.

What is that? Is that a rat? She screams.

Henry bolts out of his chair.

‘There’s a rat, over there, by the body!’ Beverly cries, getting up and pointing. Everyone turns to squint into the dark where she’s pointing.

‘That’s impossible,’ James says defensively, jumping out of his chair.

‘You already admitted you have rats,’ Lauren points out uneasily, tucking her feet up underneath her on the sofa.

‘Not up here!’ James says.

‘But there’s a dead body up here,’ Lauren says, ‘and maybe it’s … attracting them.’ She shudders visibly. ‘Oh, God, I can’t stand this!’

Beverly agrees with Lauren; she can’t stand it either. She starts to sob and shake; out of years of habit she turns and buries her face in Henry’s chest. He puts his arms around her, and even though she’s still furious with him, it’s comforting.

‘We need to get that body out of here!’ Henry says crossly.

‘We really shouldn’t move it,’ David begins.

‘To hell with what we should and shouldn’t do,’ Henry cries. ‘There’s a dead body there, it’s festering, and attracting rats, and it’s frightening my wife!’

Beverly lifts her head from Henry’s chest and looks at Matthew. He’s gone white. She’s suddenly sorry for her outburst.

‘I’m sorry—’

But Matthew ignores her and picks the oil lamp up from the coffee table and goes over to Dana’s body. He holds the light over her, looking down, looking for a rat. It’s a macabre sight, but Beverly finds she cannot look away.

‘I don’t see any rats,’ Matthew says sullenly. ‘There aren’t any. You must have imagined it.’

Ian gets up and stands beside him. ‘Still, maybe we should move her,’ he says gently. He turns and looks back at David.

David looks around the room, as if gauging the mood. Finally, he nods, as if he knows he’s outnumbered. He takes his mobile phone out of his pocket, pulls back the sheet and snaps some pictures. Then he makes a sound of frustration and says, ‘Now my phone’s completely dead.’ He looks up at the others. ‘Okay. Where can we put her?’

‘The woodshed?’ Bradley suggests tentatively.

‘No!’ Matthew says. ‘There may be … rats might get her there.’

It makes Beverly feel sick, the thought of rats gnawing on Dana.

‘How about the icehouse?’ James suggests. ‘It’s cold. It’s completely sealed. Nothing can … disturb her there.’

Finally Matthew swallows and nods. Beverly feels the most awful pity for him. She watches as David lays the sheet down on the floor beside the body. Then he takes Dana’s feet and Matthew takes her shoulders and they clumsily lift her onto the sheet. Her head falls suddenly to the side. They wrap her up tightly in the sheet to make it easier to carry her.

Bradley, Matthew, and David put on their coats and boots and begin the sad, awkward journey with the body out to the icehouse.

Once they’re out of sight, Beverly bursts into tears.

Chapter Twenty-one

Saturday, 8:30 PM

ON THEIR RETURN from the icehouse, David puts two more logs on the fire and gets a good flame going. Then he turns reluctantly to the others, seated around the fire, their faces glowing in the firelight. Matthew sits apart, alienated from the others by his grief and by the suspicion that has been cast on him.

The room is quite dark, with just the light thrown by the fire and the single, sputtering oil lamp. The other has run out of oil, and Bradley has explained, embarrassed, that there is no more. No one was expecting to have to use oil lamps.

Riley fidgets nervously with the ring on her index finger, her version of wringing her hands, David thinks.

She says, ‘What are we going to do?’

David thinks that someone should give Riley another drink. Or one of those pills of hers they found upstairs. He says, ‘We’re going to stick together. We’re going to make it through the night.’ The storm shrieks around them, slamming against the windows, as if mocking him. ‘And in the morning, when it’s light, I think we should try to make it out to the main road.’