The cries of Georgie Greenstreet’s mother are tearing through the hotel like violent jags of rainwater.
Hazel is clothed now, her red dress on, her high-heeled shoes ready by the door. Jonny is in his suit and they stand facing each other, their faces strained.
‘They’ll cancel the dinner, I expect,’ he says.
Hazel presses her lips together, a bite of irritation stabbing within her at his acceptance of the status quo. They have been stuck in this room for an hour since the manager’s visit, despite Hazel trying to persuade Jonny to go downstairs and see what’s going on, what’s happening with the other guests. But he has been firm, telling her they should wait for further instructions from Mr Lamb.
‘They don’t need us bothering them now,’ he says. ‘They’ve got enough on their plates.’
Hazel tries to ignore the feeling she has been having lately – only in the last few weeks, since they have been planning this trip, in fact, and cajoling Evie to come with them – that Jonny’s concern with not bothering other people is a trait which, later down the line in their relationship, will cause Hazel to resent him, to lash out in frustration, pound a figurative wall with her fists, that he is so laid-back.
At the same time, she looks at him standing there in his crisp white shirt and his dove-grey tie and feels wrapped in a strength that shields her from everything in the past, and what might happen in the future. Even when he is dressed, she can imagine the weight of him, the feel of his muscular arms around her. Is this what marriage is like? she wonders. A constant balancing act between infatuation and impatience. Not that they are actually married yet, but it seems probable, and Jonny has never caused her to worry that it won’t be the case. He is an ally, she knows this. He has taken on burdens with her that no other man would shoulder. Even with Evie, his daughter from his previous marriage – even then – he has introduced Hazel with such eagerness, such pride to have her in his life.
But despite all of this, surely he must see the danger of the situation? With the girl missing? She turns back to the mirror, searching her perfectly made-up face, trying to imagine what others will think when they see it. How she will be judged. Her heart roils inside her chest, caught between the childish sense that what is happening is unjust, and fearful anticipation of what is yet to come. Whatever Jonny says, they should be downstairs, figuring out what to do, finding out what the hotel management are planning.
‘Will they call the police?’ Hazel asks him, her eyes febrile and bright.
‘Coastguard first, I would think,’ he answers, hands in his pockets, leaning back against the door. ‘If Lamb’s right, and the weather’s turning bad, they’ll want to search the beach before it kicks in. Storms are epic around here. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the sea in one.’ Jonny stops talking and takes a breath as if a thought has just occurred to him. Again, Hazel feels that bite of irritation, that feeling of being ten steps ahead. He comes over to her and cradles her face between his palms. ‘Oh, sweetheart, are you worried? About the police coming?’
With an effort, Hazel swallows her frustration. Her hands tremble as she places them on his shoulders. ‘Of course I am. What do you think?’ She closes her eyes briefly. ‘A five year old going missing. It’s . . .’ She shakes her head, unable to finish.
‘It’s going to be fine,’ Jonny says. ‘I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m here, aren’t I?’
Hazel leans her head against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, feeling that solid frame, strong as oak, which props her up. It’s only when she straightens that she sees, with the force of a whiplash, electric-blue swirls chasing rapidly across the walls. Then she realises that her fears have materialised, and her head begins to spin along with the lights that circle the room from outside.
Turning together to the window, they see the harsh, unremitting lights burning from the two police cars that have drawn quietly up in the snow.