My heart is going fifty to the dozen. Am I about to have sex? It’s been so long – since I’ve had sex with a man other than Him, since I’ve had sex full stop. Shit, I don’t have any condoms – I’ll be telling Ben ‘if it’s not On, it’s not In’. Oh God, is this a good idea, a bad idea or a crazy idea? Is crazy good or bad? It’s ten past nine. Fuck, I’m excited. Deep breaths. Ready. Off I go. Wish me luck. And fun.

Cat is in the third-floor corridor of the Hôtel Ibis in Pradier. The carpet is new and makes the hallway smell vaguely like an aeroplane. She passes doors that are closed though sounds of life can be heard within: showers, television sets, animated conversation, singing. Then she passes doors that are shut but with the Megapac riders’ names tacked to them. There is nothing but silence emanating from these rooms. 329. Sweet dreams, Luca. 327. Other side, Cat. 328. How are you feeling, Didier? 326.

Oh God oh God oh God.

The door of room 324 is opening. A woman steps out into the corridor. She is laughing over her shoulder. She is out of the room. She turns back towards the door and waves; smiling, gorgeous. It’s the podium girl. The same one. The same fucking gorgeous, leggy, luscious woman. She’s laughing. She’s been in Ben’s room and now she’s leaving it, laughing. Not a hair out of place. Lips licked with lipstick, requisite almond eyes enhanced with a lash of mascara. She’s wearing a skirt shorter than that of her uniform. No daft hat to detract from her silken tresses. She’s been in Ben’s room, this vamp has. Number 324 at the Hôtel Ibis in Pradier. What is Cat meant to do? How is she meant to feel?

She feels sick. She turns on her heel and walks away, retracing every step that brought her here.

STAGE 6
Pradier-Bordeaux. 215 kilometres

‘Are you OK, Cat?’ Josh asked, handing her a can of Minute Maid orange juice at the Pradier village. ‘You look shagged.’

Cat couldn’t even be bothered to muse upon the irony to herself. ‘I didn’t sleep well,’ she told Josh.

‘Are you homesick?’ Josh asked gently.

‘Homesick?’ Cat retorted, banishing an intrusive image of her sisters from her mind. ‘No way. Not at all.’

Go away, Django. Derbyshire, be gone!

‘I am,’ said Josh, ‘I miss my wife and my dog.’

Oh Josh, why don’t I just tell you that again I feel I shouldn’t be here, that I feel a little fragile, that it’s exhausting to feel I’m constantly swinging from new confidence back down to plain old inconsequential.

Cat had no need to tell Josh any of this. He saw a tear smudge across her right eye and decided not to pry in case she broke down right then and there, in the middle of the village, twenty minutes before Stage 6 began, twenty yards away from five times Tour winner Bernard Hinault. But he did lay a hand on her arm and give it a conciliatory squeeze which made both of them feel a little better.