‘First, I must find Josh. I’m not only going to tell him about He Who No Longer Exists but also about He Who Most Definitely Does. I owe it to Josh, he’s my pal and he cares about me.’

She went along to Josh’s room and knocked on the door. Josh grinned at her. ‘You like it, don’t you?’ he brandished.

‘Yes?’ she answered. ‘Do I? What?’

‘Cat McCabe,’ he smiled and then broke into song most operatically, ‘beside the seaside, beside the sea!’

‘Oh shit,’ Cat declared, hiding her face behind her hands.

‘The walls are paper thin,’ Josh said, casting a glance towards Alex’s room on the other side of his and shaking his head.

‘Was Alex singing too, then?’ Cat asked artlessly. Josh snorted but the explanation came soon enough in the form of a buxom woman opening Alex’s door, stepping out in to the corridor, rearranging her clothing, murmuring, ‘Ciao!’ back into the room and then nodding most courteously to Josh and Cat as she passed.

‘Fletcher!’ Josh cried once he’d closed his jaw, while Cat stood stock still and flabbergasted. ‘Bloody show yourself.’

Alex appeared, with a John Wayne swagger and a Benny Hill grin. ‘I’m shagged!’ he declared. Then he steadied his head with both hands and moaned, ‘I’m also still pissed, I think.’

‘What’s her name?’ Cat whispered.

‘Oh,’ Alex fumbled, waving the air dismissively, ‘Mary, Margaret, Molly – something like that,’ though he knew full well that her name was Maria Angelo because it had taken him most of the previous evening, his entire repertoire of chat-up lines, an exorbitant amount of Pernod and the false promise of Laurent Jalabert’s autograph to lure her back to his room. ‘Come on, I desperately need caffeine. And food. I need to replenish. I’m knackered. Shagged. Fucking hell.’

‘I’m going to the salle de pressé,’ said Cat, looking imploring at Josh who was looking reprovingly at Alex.

‘See you there,’ Josh said, glancing at Cat. ‘I’d better chaperone this jerk all the way.’

‘Oh,’ faltered Cat, ‘OK.’

‘Are you going to transcribe your Luca tape?’ Josh asked.

‘Yes,’ Cat said pensively. She tried to communicate via loaded glances but, whereas Rachel would have read her perfectly, Josh just thought he had shaving cream on his cheek or toothpaste on his lips or sleep dust in his eyes. ‘If you have a mo’,’ Cat said to Josh, realizing Alex was too distracted and hungover to eavesdrop, ‘I wanted to talk – remember?’

‘Oh sure, yes of course,’ said Josh. ‘Later? After breakfast?’

Cat nodded, hoping that a slightly worried twitch of her eyebrows would signify that she wanted to talk in private too.

‘But Luca won the bloody fucking Stage yesterday,’ Cat fulminated in fine salle de pressé style down the phone to Andy at Maillot, ‘and I’ve got an exclusive.’ Andy pointed out that she had interviewed Luca before he was a Tour de France Stage winner. ‘How about a fun little piece on how the riders spend the Repos?’ Cat suggested, undeterred.