‘Cat,’ said Ben quite formally, ‘here’s your dictaphone.’

‘Thanks!’ Cat said effusively.

‘Do you women want breakfast?’ Ben asked.

‘We’ve had,’ said Rachel, speaking for both, though Cat would have been quite content with a second sitting. Cat looked at Rachel. Slowly, she removed the loaned sunglasses and handed them to the soigneur. The girls conversed expertly by glances.

You’ve slept with Ben Bloody York, haven’t you!

I know! What do you think?

Go for it.

‘Wait up, Ben,’ Cat called after him but only once she’d been granted Rachel’s nod. Ben stopped a few yards off, the morning sunlight catching his features so aesthetically that Cat had to catch her breath.

‘Tell me,’ Rachel said connivingly, ‘why does he have your dictaphone?’

‘I must have left it in his bedroom,’ Cat said.

‘Oh,’ said Rachel, nodding sagely, ‘couldn’t he just have used his finger then, like a normal bloke?’

It took a while for Rachel’s jest to filter through Cat. When it did, she roared with laughter, nudged her friend, all but leapt from the bus and approached Ben most jauntily. As they walked away, Cat turned. Rachel was standing in the doorway of the bus, cleaning the Oakley sunglasses she had lent Cat, on the rim of her T-shirt.

Shit! Cat faltered, looking over her shoulder at the bus, Vasily! What were you going to say, Rachel?

It can wait, Cat – don’t worry about it – it can wait. It was nothing.

When Cat and Ben had disappeared from sight and the bidons were all done, Rachel cleaned the Oakleys once more.

‘Vasily, Vasily,’ she said under her breath, ‘what am I meant to think, let alone do?’

A little later, Rachel did something she had never done. She went to her rider. Two of the team had come to her room for a leg rub, another had come for fresh socks but she hadn’t seen Vasily. Vasily probably didn’t need clothing or massage or to be disturbed, but still Rachel went to his room.

‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hullo, Rachel,’ he replied.

‘Can I come in?’ Rachel asked.

‘Please,’ he said, holding the door and welcoming her. She was deflated that he left it ajar.

‘Can I do anything for you?’ she asked.

‘It’s a short Stage,’ Vasily shrugged. ‘I am fine, please do not worry.’ Rachel was standing with her back to the window, Vasily was leaning leisurely against the wall, the bed was between them. Rachel noticed that Vasily had, for some reason, made it.

‘OK,’ said Rachel, hovering, wondering if he’d forgotten, remembered or merely dismissed the day before. ‘About yesterday,’ she started.

Vasily raised a hand. ‘Please,’ he said kindly, ‘do not worry.’

Rachel regarded her feet.

I’m not worried. I just want to know if there might be more from whence it came.

‘Don’t worry,’ she echoed, her fixed smile contradicting the darting of her eyes.

‘Oh,’ said Vasily dismissively, ‘I won’t. I forgot it already.’ He wondered why Rachel had suddenly cast her gaze away. ‘Rachel,’ he said softly, advancing towards her, ‘it was not meant to be. If I am OK with it, I expect you – my soigneur – to be so too.’