Oh, for the life of a regular doctor. With a surgery in a suburb. And a receptionist. And a legion of elderly people with gout and hypochondria. Perhaps a Well Woman clinic every Tuesday. Prostate awareness once a fortnight. Flu jabs. And a desk. With a photo of my wife and two kids. And my spaniel. I could have a Saab parked outside in a reserved space.

‘Hey, Ben,’ said Rachel, bringing him back to the balmy present of picturesque Gilbertville, to the sounds, the scents, the sense of excitement of the Tour de France. Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath, acknowledging how, though fleeting, his daydream was not just deluded but utterly suffocating and essentially undesirable. There was only one place he wanted to be, and only one way he could possibly practise medicine.

‘Have you met André Ferrette?’ Rachel continued, eager that Ben should. The men shook hands.

‘I need your help,’ Ben said, prophesying that Rachel might well need his when the respective directeurs discovered that their staff were mingling.

‘Sure,’ said Rachel, sensing instantly that he required her capacity as friend.

‘I’ll see you later,’ André said, taking her hand. Rachel beamed and Ben noticed how she now radiated femininity and allure, having kept such qualities invisible until she saw fit to unleash them on the man of her choice. So very Rachel. Strong. Sussed. Independent. Nobody’s fool. Her own boss.

‘What’s up, Yorkie?’ she said, reverting to the demeanour and look of Ben’s friend, the Zucca MV soigneur.

‘It’s Didier,’ said Ben gravely, ‘and Jan van Loth.’

‘You need Vasily,’ Rachel said astutely, ‘he rates Didier. I’ll see what I can do.’

Ben felt easier but was still apprehensive. Though Rachel understood the urgency and gravity, he longed for Cat. His job was highly stressful. He wanted to talk through, to unwind, to offload, to be soothed. But it was 11 a.m. and, dependent on developments in the Stage, Cat would not be off duty until the evening.

‘What’s the time?’ Cat asks Josh.

‘Almost nine,’ he replies. ‘Are you through?’

‘Yup.’

What happened in the Tour today, Cat?

It was utterly bizarre. Vasily lost a whole bloody minute. He didn’t so much lose it but threw it away. No one knows why – there was no press conference. It must be strategy – but certainly not as we know it. Fabian and Carlos streamed off at the foot of the middle climb and Vasily just sat in a chasing group not actively pursuing at all.

So he is only 1 minute 33 ahead of Fabian?

Yes. And Carlos Jesu Velasquez took the polka dot jersey today with a truly ruthless ride. Poor darling Massimo suffered a double puncture on the first Col and fell off pretty badly on the descent. Though it violated race etiquette, Carlos took full advantage and zipped away. Massimo really floundered after that – he was incapable of mind over matter and there were no domestiques to raise morale and physically lead him back. Zucca were catastrophically lax today.