‘A quick one,’ Ben plays with a wry half-smile. Cat frowns fleetingly. ‘And young Luca?’ Ben asks.

‘Luca?’ Cat responds, regarding Ben warily.

‘He tells me he’s going to give you one,’ Ben informs her, ‘this evening.’

Cat bites her lip. ‘I know,’ she says quietly.

‘What exactly did my rider say?’ Ben asks sternly, his voice low and doctorly and coursing through the blood in Cat’s veins like a tonic.

She drops her gaze to his lips fleetingly then regards him full on. ‘Your young rider invited me to come and find him tonight if I wanted it – that he’d take me somewhere quiet and give me a long one.’

‘Cat McCabe,’ Ben breathes, ‘my rider is waiting for you in the foyer. He needs an early night. He needs minimal exertion. I think I’ll join you both on this one. Come on.’ Ben takes her elbow. ‘I promise to be just a silent observer.’

Cat is too stunned to respond, let alone stand her ground or insist on her intended path to Rachel.

‘Do you use a gadget?’ Ben asks, innocently enough. ‘The riders usually prefer them – it makes it so much quicker and smoother.’ He looks at Cat. ‘Don’t you agree?’

Poor girl – I am a sod.

In the foyer, Ben and Cat come across Luca talking to Rachel.

‘Hey, Cat,’ Rachel says. Luca stares intently at the journaliste who is trying to transmit to the soigneur desperate pleas for assistance via eye flickers, lip twitching and general woman-to-woman telepathy.

‘Luca tells me he’s having you to himself for a while,’ Rachel says. ‘I’ll meet you in the bar. How long will you be, Luca?’

‘As long as it takes,’ Luca replies, looking adoringly at the journaliste. ‘It’s up to my feline friend, hey?’

‘He won’t last long,’ Rachel whispers to Cat. ‘God knows why he wants to do it now – he’s shagged already.’ She winks. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she says to Luca and Cat, ‘see you in a while.’

Ben is hovering.

‘You want to join us?’ Luca asks him begrudgingly.

‘Cat?’ Ben asks her. She does not know where to look, what to do. She turns her head towards the bar. She cannot see Rachel.

‘You have that thing?’ Luca asks her, ‘the machine? The batteries?’

Cat shakes her head and upends empty palms. She is wearing an obviously pocketless tube skirt. She looks down, wondering if her knees are knocking. Certainly they feel that they are.

‘Oh,’ Luca says, ‘why not? It’s better for you, no? Personally, I like the machine – I prefer it that way – and it is better for you, no? The results are stronger, in my experience.’

Ben can’t bear it any longer. He is about to laugh uncontrollably and Cat looks like she is about to weep. ‘Call yourself a journaliste?’ he goads her gently, giving her shoulder a little shove. ‘It’s part of the job, isn’t it?’

Cat regards him blankly.