‘Have you shagged him yet?’ Pip all but squealed.

Though she really shouldn’t have been startled by her sister’s trademark bluntness, Cat found herself answering with an affirmative giggle. While she listened to her sisters shrieking with delight in the background, Cat considered that, though she had indeed shagged Ben, that they had quite categorically fucked each other’s brains out, gorged on each other to satisfy a very base hunger, there had been an edge to it all. Right from the start. Sexual desire, yes, but something else, something more too. Merely confirming that she had shagged the man did both him and herself something of a disservice. It had been more than just sex, but what, exactly? Surely the sex could not have been so good without this enhancing extra layer of something or other? Physical attraction is one thing on but one level; to be mutually attracted to each other is something else and multi-faceted. And somewhat perplexing.

‘He’s lovely,’ Cat said to Pip’s ‘Come on come on come on!’

‘What was it like?’ Fen asked excitedly. ‘Was he good?’

‘It was great,’ Cat replied.

‘Where did you do it?’ Pip butted in. ‘When? How many times?’

‘I like him,’ Cat reiterated, thinking, deluded, that she was being discreetly noncommittal, ‘it was great.’

And then Cat changed the subject. ‘The weather is absolutely appalling here today – it’s cold and very wet. It’s going to be torture for the boys. Promise you’ll watch? Promise you’ll pray for them? You’re going to meet a host of new characters today – all those powerful sprinters so familiar last week will now be gone from sight. They’ve passed the baton to the grimpeurs – lithe, wiry, crazy, brave boys. Watch what the mountains do to them. Watch what they do to the mountains.’

‘The fact that she changed the subject in a way she thought was so subtle—’ Fen starts, replacing the handset, finishing the coffee and reordering her piles of papers.

‘Means one of two things,’ Pip completes.

‘Either the sex was a bit disappointing and reality has let her daydream down,’ Fen theorizes.

‘Or,’ Pip continues for her, ‘Cat’s gone and fallen for him.’

‘In some ways,’ says Fen, very slowly, ‘I rather hope she hasn’t.’

‘I know,’ says Pip, ‘I do too. She’d be safer.’

‘But I rather think it’s the latter,’ Fen clarifies, ‘and I don’t want her to be hurt.’

‘I mean, he’s probably a really lovely guy with honourable intentions,’ Pip says, ‘and has massive desire for Cat, which is great for her – but if she is falling for more than his ability to bring her to orgasm, she is somewhat vulnerable.’

‘And I don’t want her to hurt,’ Fen states, ‘she’s had enough of that.’

Pip was staring at Fen’s calendar from the Musée Rodin.

‘The Eternal Idol, 1899,’ Fen whispers rather hoarsely. ‘Isn’t that clit-quiveringly wonderful?’

‘Huh? Oh yes!’ Pip says, changing her focus to observe the photo of the sculpture. ‘But I was thinking – fancy a weekend in the Alps?’