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It was pointless: her mind was alert, her legs twitchy.

An hour or so ago, while she was downstairs refilling her bottle with filtered water, she’d thought about shoving her walking boots back on and letting her restless feet take her out into the elements.

But the bucketing rain soon changed her mind; where would she even go?

She’d taken her water and gone back to bed.

The tropical storm seemed to have died down now, after hours of violent winds buffeting the roof above her, sheets of rain battering the windows.

At one point, it was so heavy she’d been worried the thick glass might shatter, with what sounded like pails of water smashing against her window.

It was the loudest, longest storm she’d ever witnessed – not even the last time she was in a rainforest was there something like this – and she couldn’t imagine how they’d even step outside in the morning.

She thought about her fellow guests. She noticed her mind making its usual quick assumptions about each of them – a ddict, loner, trauma survivor, co-dependent – the snap judgements that her training had taught her, and which now she found impossible to switch off.

It happened every time she met new people, even though she knew it displayed a gross lack of boundaries, something she’d hate if anyone did it to her.

Apart from the storm, the evening had passed without drama; it had been nice enough.

The conversation over dinner had been easy – chatting about where they were from, what they did, how they felt about Hannah, why they were here.

They seemed like a good bunch of people: self-aware, kind, considerate, for the most part.

Clearly Hannah had chosen her group well.

And Naya was gorgeous; there was a warmth about her that reminded her of Robyn, even though they were nothing alike physically.

Draining her glass of water now, pushing thoughts of Robyn out of her mind – that was the last thing she needed, if she was trying to sleep – Carly stood up, stretched, felt her eyelids flicker; perhaps finally, she was ready to get some rest.

When her eyes opened again, she was surprised to see light trickling through the edges of the heavy silk curtains lining her bedroom window. She checked the time on her phone: it was gone eight. She’d had a few hours’ sleep then. That’ll do.

She got up, luxuriated in her rain shower for a few minutes, then dressed in a vest and leggings and opened her bedroom door, listening for the others; there was only silence.

She slipped down to the kitchen, taking in the stunning view outside, the still waters of the pool, the lush green leaves and bright red and pink flowers at the garden’s edge.

On the dining room table was a spread of fresh fruit, filled pastries, brightly coloured juices and steaming percolators of coffee, their toasty scent reaching her nostrils. Her stomach rumbled.

‘Ah, you are awake!’ Paola strode into the kitchen, ushered Carly towards a seat at the table and filled her mug with coffee.

As Carly took a sip, a clicking sound came from the front door.

Luisa, dressed in the same crisp white linen tunic and trousers as yesterday, stepped inside the house, waved and gave Carly a broad smile.

‘Good morning, Carly. I hope you slept well! Paola has made a delicious breakfast for you, of course,’ she said. Then, looking around: ‘Hannah is here now?’

Carly was about to respond, but she was interrupted.

‘Well, if Hannah’s here, I sure haven’t seen her.

’ It was Ben, his voice coming from the bottom of the stairs.

He ambled into the kitchen, yawning, plaid shirt undone, revealing what looked like a ten-pack of abs on a perfectly smooth torso – waxed, Carly assumed, to within an inch of its life – as he stretched his arms above his head.

‘Anyone else up?’ he asked.

‘Nope,’ Carly replied, with a shrug. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

Mira wandered into the kitchen behind Ben, and Carly startled when she saw her: perhaps it was because she’d just woken up, but Mira looked paler and even more delicate in the morning light, and positively minuscule in an oversized blue sundress.

And her hair – which Carly was sure, now, could only be a wig – was fixed at an angle, one side sloping down further towards her neck.

She looked fragile, and Carly felt a sudden rush of care for her; a desire to wrap her up in a blanket, keep her safe, like she’d done with her most vulnerable clients.

Like she’d done with Robyn when they were having their difficult days, she realized, with a hot pang in her chest.

Paola shuffled somewhere near Carly’s shoulder. ‘No, Hannah is not back,’ she said. ‘Perhaps she is stuck somewhere on the road – it is probably not safe to come back by boat yet. But she will be here soon. At least the storm is over now, and it was not so bad as they said...’

That storm? Not so bad? Carly wondered what a bad storm here would be like, in that case.

‘Ah, sí , she has probably got caught somewhere,’ agreed Luisa. ‘But the water will start to move away in the next few hours, I am sure.’

She paused and turned to wave at Scott as he arrived downstairs, with Naya a few steps behind him. Naya looked pale and washed out; perhaps she hadn’t slept much, either.

‘Good morning to you both!’ said Luisa. ‘Hannah will be here soon – until then, you can eat, drink, and we have a fabulous morning prepared for you all.’

‘Hannah is still a little delayed by the weather,’ explained Paola, in response to the questioning look on Naya’s face. ‘There’s some flooding in the area that must be stopping her from getting back. But it is not a problem – you will still enjoy this morning with us.’

‘Sounds great,’ said Scott, and Naya nodded her agreement, as the five of them joined Carly at the table and filled their plates with various fruits, tortillas and salchichón .

‘What’s the plan for today then?’ asked Scott, pouring coffee into a mug. ‘Hannah emailed an itinerary, but it was pretty loose, from what I remember – just a couple of activities scheduled each day, with plenty of time left for our one-on-one work with her.’

‘Didn’t she put something about a waterfall in the email itinerary?’ said Naya. ‘I really hope so – the pictures of it looked incredible. I’m dying to see it and go for a swim.’

‘Yes, this is true,’ said Paola. ‘But first for this morning, we have planned a sound bath, which our specialist practitioner Thiago will lead for you when he arrives, and then...’

Paola’s words faded as a text bleeped on someone’s phone.

First one; then another.

Then another.

All at the same time.

There was only one possible sender.