THE GUESTS START to drift down to the lobby again around four o’clock, eager for their tea. They continue to do their best to ignore the corpse at the bottom of the stairs, filing past it quickly on their way to the dining room. Matthew still does not appear. James has made scones to go with the tea and coffee, and they all agree that they are delicious.

Gwen sips the scalding tea, grateful for the warmth of the cup in her hands, and wonders if she will ever speak to David.

Henry says, ‘I suggest we all check out the ice bar. The path’s all clear, and I had a sneak peek. It’s really something.’

‘Thanks to your hard work with the snowblower,’ Bradley says.

Gwen goes with the rest of them to grab their jackets and boots at the front of the hotel and then they all follow Bradley down the back hall and into the woodshed – smelling wonderfully of freshly chopped wood – where they don their outdoor gear. Bradley opens the door and a bitter wind gusts into the woodshed. Bradley and Henry go out first, then Ian and Lauren. David goes next, and Beverly steps in front of Gwen and follows David.

Gwen goes last, behind Riley, and pulls the woodshed door shut behind her. The sky is sullen and the wind violent. Gwen can’t see much directly in front of her – just Riley’s back – as they trudge single file down the cleared path, banks of snow on either side. But she looks up to the forest beyond, where the wind is giving the trees a thrashing. Riley says something to her over her shoulder, but Gwen can’t catch the words before the wind tears them away and they are lost. The tip of her nose is already freezing. At least there are no large trees to come crashing down between the woodshed and the icehouse. Finally they stop and the path widens out into a cleared area in front of the icehouse and she can see.

It looks like an igloo, or a Nissen hut made of snow. The front, however, is made of large blocks of ice cut and fitted together. A pair of wooden doors is affixed to the ice somehow. Gwen studies it with interest.

‘The doors are the only part not made of ice or snow,’ Bradley says, his breath puffing out clouds. ‘It has to be rebuilt every winter – and then it melts.’

‘That’s a lot of work for something that just melts,’ Beverly says, her face pinched with cold.

‘But the beauty of it is, it looks different every year,’ Bradley says. ‘They do different designs, different sculptures. Wait till you see inside.’

‘So you don’t make this yourself,’ Ian says.

‘Hell, no.’

Bradley opens the door and they all step inside.

Gwen gasps. It’s like stepping into a sparkling, twinkling fairyland. Beneath a vaulted ceiling, the curved bar is sculpted out of translucent ice. In front of it are several barstools, also carved from ice. Behind the bar, bottles rest on ice shelves, shimmering in the unusual light.

Bradley steps behind the bar, a bright spot of colour with his red wool hat, and says, ‘I highly recommend the vodka Martinis.’

Gwen waits for her drink and looks around. Apart from the bar itself, there are small round tables with curved seats, also made of ice. But it’s the sculpture over the bar that really takes her breath away. It’s a bird of prey with its wings spread out and its feet extended – even the claws – as if it’s about to land on its quarry. It’s huge – the full length of the bar – and it seems to hover over Bradley as he mixes the Martinis.

David appears beside her and hands her a large Martini glass with gloved hands. Now that she’s facing him, she finds she’s nervous. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in here without my winter coat,’ she says.

She can feel Riley’s eyes on her, watching her, but she doesn’t care.

‘Quite beautiful,’ David says.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Gwen agrees.

‘I wasn’t talking about the icehouse,’ he whispers.

She feels herself melting, even in all this cold. Riley is wrong. David cannot be the man she’s thinking of. Riley is confused. Riley’s confused about a lot of things.

David takes a gulp of his Martini, watching her. Gwen flushes and says, more loudly, ‘Candice really should see this.’

‘She’s in the library,’ Bradley says, from behind the bar. ‘She asked not to be disturbed.’

‘I think she’d be sorry to miss the ice bar,’ Gwen says. ‘It’s pretty fabulous.’

Bradley smiles. ‘I think you’re right. I’ll run in and see if I can coax her to come out,’ he says, stepping out from behind the bar.

‘Relax,’ David says, chiding her gently. She smiles nervously at him and sips her vodka. He lowers his voice and says, ‘I think we should find a time and a place to talk. Just the two of us.’

She nods. They obviously can’t talk now, in this confined space, with so many people around. With Riley looking on. But they must talk soon. She is both looking forward to it and dreading it.

Bradley steps back outside into the blustery wind and heads for the woodshed, his head down and collar up. The pleasant smile falls away. There’s always so much to do, owning a hotel, he thinks tiredly. It’s endless. Running around, being nice to people. This bunch is pleasant enough. But he doesn’t want to work in this hotel for ever. Serving drinks and meals, picking up after people, being at their beck and call. His father wants him to take over the hotel some day, but Bradley doesn’t want to be stuck out here in the country, far from everything. As much as Bradley loves the place – and loves his dad – he’s itching to leave. He doesn’t want to be trapped here, catering to people with more money than him, with the freedom to go wherever they want. And unlike his father, he doesn’t love to cook.

But whenever he thinks about leaving, the guilt kicks in. He can’t leave his father here alone. He knows his father’s worried; he’s always worried. If his father would sell the hotel and retire, then Bradley would be free.

When he looks in the library, Candice isn’t there. He takes a quick look around the ground floor, but doesn’t find her. She must be having a nap in her room, but he doesn’t feel like running up two flights of stairs to find out. For a moment he forgets about Candice. He has big plans. He’s going to get some money together and—

He hears his father call him from the kitchen. ‘Bradley, is that you?’

Bradley pops into the kitchen. ‘Yeah.’

‘I need you to help me with the food prep. Can you start chopping?’

‘No, I can’t,’ Bradley snaps. His father looks up at him in surprise. ‘I’m supposed to be serving drinks in the icehouse.’

‘What’s the matter with you?’ his father asks, looking at him more closely. He says cautiously, ‘I hope I don’t have to remind you about not crossing the line with our guests.’

And that’s another thing Bradley can’t stand – being reminded of his place. He feels his temper flare. He doesn’t answer, just slams the door on his way out.

David is thinking how appealing Gwen looks in her bright red ski jacket and pink-and-red-striped hat, when Bradley returns.

‘She wasn’t in the library,’ Bradley says. ‘I’m not sure where she is.’

By now everyone has finished their drinks and they’re getting cold. They decide to go back inside. When they leave the icehouse it’s starting to get dark. David sticks close to Gwen as they file back up the path to the woodshed in the deepening dusk, accompanied by the shrieking wind.

‘This is what the wind is like on Mount Everest,’ Riley says, once they’re inside the woodshed.

‘Have you been?’ Henry asks.

‘No, but I saw the documentary.’

They return gratefully to the fire in the lobby. Some of them keep their hats and gloves on for warmth. Gwen stands in front of the flames, rubbing her hands together. David considers asking her to come with him somewhere else, where they can talk. Maybe they could go to the bar. He could make them a fire, and they could be alone. Bradley has gone to the library again to see if Candice is there. Lauren is in front of the reception desk, leaning over it, looking for a pen for a crossword.

Bradley returns to the lobby shaking his head. ‘She’s still not there. I’ve looked around down here. She must be in her room. I’ll check.’

David feels a twinge of unease. He wonders why Candice isn’t where she said she’d be. ‘I’ll come up with you,’ he offers.