Half past two in the morning.

Still no sleep.

Georgie Ellis lay on her back, staring at the carved plaster on the ceiling as if it held answers. Every time she closed her eyes, the dream lurked behind her lids, ready to replay itself in unwelcome detail.

She’d given up pretending she might drift off again and mentally cancelled her plan for an early-morning swim.

“No swimming today,” she muttered. “Unless it’s in coffee.”

Her phone lay on the bedside table. She reached for it, checked the time, and, without really thinking it through, set an alarm for 7:45. Ten minutes to shower and dress, five minutes to reach the dining room, and she’d be just about presentable for an eight o’clock breakfast.

She hated rushing. She also...

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