She rolled her eyes amusedly, playing along with this well-worn routine of his, before pulling out her phone and instantly feeling the seat beneath her drop several feet.

The number was unrecognisable but the source of the message was instantly clear:

Gabriela. Sorry I haven’t been in touch. How are you?

She must have unconsciously made a sound or a sudden movement because Callum looked up. ‘Mama, what’s the matter?’

‘I’m afraid there was no Bombay Sapphire, so you’ll have to make do with lukewarm Diet Coke.’

Tom’s voice overlaid Callum’s and she jumped, dropping her phone under the seat in front of hers.

‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘I’ll get it,’ Tom said, but before he could lean in Gabriela leapt from her seat, kicking the phone away from his hand.

‘Whoa,’ he said, pulling himself upright, searching her face.

‘Sorry,’ she placated him, leaning forward, struggling to play down her jitteriness as she stuffed the phone into her pocket.

Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered, ‘Not that I was looking at presents for your birthday next week and didn’t want you to see or anything …’

A thought moved across his face as he looked at her, waiting for a moment before passing her drink over.

‘Right,’ he said with a tone that unnerved her.

She sipped quickly from the can and the force of the bubbles gushed up her nose, causing the liquid to rise in her throat.

‘Jesus, are you drunk or something?’ he asked as she clapped her hand over her mouth, spilling her drink over her sweatshirt in the process.

‘Shit,’ she said again, mouthing sorry to Callum when he looked up at her, signalling his disapproval at her use of a prohibited word.

‘I’m just going to go to the loo, try and wash this off,’ she said, standing unsteadily. She imagined herself under surveillance as she moved through the leisure centre, the echoes of balls slamming in the distance, children screaming in ecstasy and frustration.

There was an overpowering smell of disinfectant as she slid the lock of the cubicle door closed and settled herself on the lid of the toilet seat. Reading the message again, a ripple of apprehension shivered over her. How could she not remember giving him her number? Racking her brain for a memory she knew she would never have misplaced, for a moment she wondered if he could have taken it without her knowing. Had he snatched her phone from the table when she went to the bathroom and dialled his number from it, waiting for her own number to flash on his screen before saving it to his contacts list and returning her handset? He couldn’t have, because she had taken it with her, every time. Hadn’t she? She wasn’t so removed from reality that she would risk Tom calling and Ivan thinking to answer the call.