‘But why not?’ Tara turned on the bench to look at him. ‘Surely that’s the most useful thing you could do with … your ability? Especially now – we’ve got a whole list of pets that went missing during the floods. Even if Mrs Cartwright knew the worst, she’d be able to stop worrying.’

‘I’m really sorry, but no.’

‘But why not?’ Well, because he couldn’t do it, obviously. The wine had gone straight to Tara’s head, so she added, recklessly, ‘I mean, if you’re serious about being able to do this and not—’

‘If I’m not what?’ David looked affronted.

‘Well, if you could stop an old lady crying her heart out every day about the only friend she’s got left in the world, surely you’d want to. I would.’ She slumped back in her seat, taken aback at how disappointed she felt. David could pretend all he liked, but clearly it was just about reading the person, not the animal. Making people think their cats could understand their relationships.

Tara mentally kicked herself for being so gullible. She’d started to warm to the idea of David sensitively counselling small animals. She’d even let him probe into her private life, via the medium of Sybil. How stupid must she have looked, getting emotional when he guessed the builders were an excuse for Phil to offload his cat on to his bit on the side? Ugh. Was it that obvious to everyone but her?

‘So, what is it, then?’ she went on, more to punish herself than him. ‘Cold reading? Psychology? Or is it hypnotism?’ She glared at him. ‘Hmm?’

‘What are you getting at?’ David narrowed his eyes.

The atmosphere tipped, and Tara knew there was no way back from this.

She shook her head, dismissively. ‘I know about what you used to do at university. I’m sure it was hilarious for you lads at the time, making people look stupid for everyone else’s amusement, but you have no idea how—.’

‘No, no.’ David tried to shut her down. ‘I don’t think you’ve got the right end of that particular stick.’

‘Haven’t I?’ She glared at him, not wanting it to be true. ‘Hypno Dave?’

He groaned and rolled his eyes. ‘Tara, it’s not—’

‘Not what it looks like?’ she half roared. Her heart was pounding, all her humiliation channelling into one convenient direction. ‘You have no idea how sick and tired I am of men saying … of people saying that to me right now. News flash – it’s always exactly what it looks like.’ Tears had sprung into her eyes, and when he tried to pat her arm, she spun away, nearly knocking over her wine glass.