‘I’m fine,’ Cat said.

That’s kind of him.

‘Are you sure?’ Josh pressed.

‘Honestly,’ Cat stressed, suddenly wondering if his probing had a motive.

‘Women’s things?’ Josh attempted.

No, he’s just being kind.

‘Yes,’ said Cat smiling, glad that she didn’t have him wrong, ‘women’s things.’

After her bath, swathed in a towel pleasingly luxurious for the rating of the hotel, Cat phoned reception for Rachel’s room number. There was no reply from the soigneur’s quarters.

She’s probably in the team bus, preparing for tomorrow. I’ll get dressed and go for a recce.

‘Luca Jones!’ Ben exclaimed, coming across the rider in the foyer.

‘Hey, Doc,’ said Luca, ‘I’m fucking knackered.’

‘Have an early night, then,’ Ben said, as if to an imbecile, ‘it’s almost eight thirty.’

‘I’m waiting,’ Luca said.

‘For what?’ Ben asked.

‘For my journaliste,’ Luca said.

‘Who?’ Ben asked.

‘The lovely pussy Cat,’ Luca said openly.

‘I hope you don’t call her that to her face,’ Ben exclaimed.

‘Yeah,’ Luca said, ‘I tried but she didn’t seem to like it. I went for Gatto. She did say she’d rather just be a simple Cat but I won’t listen.’

‘Why are you waiting?’ Ben asked. ‘When are you meeting?’

‘Yesterday I asked her to come to me if she wanted one. This morning, I told her if she found me tonight, she could have it.’

Ben stared at him. ‘You said what?’

‘That I’d give her one,’ the rider shrugged, ‘a long one even. Somewhere quiet, I told her. After supper.’

‘You said that?’ Ben asked, not able to mask amazement.

‘Sure,’ Luca shrugged, ‘she told me she was shagged last night.’ Ben’s jaw dropped. ‘So,’ Luca continued, ‘perhaps tonight.’

‘And she’s on for it?’ Ben enquired nonchalantly.

Luca looked at him in amazement. ‘She’s a fucking journaliste – why wouldn’t she want an exclusive interview with Luca Fucking Jones? Man!’

Ben bit back laughter, nodded sincerely and then walked away.

I must find her. This is too good to miss. She can’t not go to Luca Fucking Jones if he wants to give her a big one somewhere private.

If I take the stairs, Cat theorizes, I can avoid bumping into anything I’d rather not.

She takes the stairs, forgetting it is the mode by which Ben chooses to travel upwards. She is humming the jingle played each day at the village. She skips down a flight, turns a landing, skips down another and all but collides with Ben on the next landing.

‘Miss McCabe,’ he says, staring at her measuredly, his hands on her shoulders to steady her but, in reality, making her quiver all the more.

‘Oh,’ says Cat, not able to look anywhere but right at him, ‘Ben.’

‘Where are you skipping to, all merry?’ he asks, removing just one hand from her shoulder.

‘I’m going to find Rachel McEwen,’ Cat says, wanting him to take away his other hand but also to leave it put. ‘We’re going to have a quick drink.’