Gold was a running theme at the Hacienda. Anything that could be gold, was. Baths, the sinks, accents of gold on all his gym equipment. As we were going back downstairs, I noticed a large painting hanging on the facing wall – it was of a girl lying down in a large meadow of shimmering golden flowers. The flowers framed the girl’s face; her smile brighter than the gold.

‘Is that a Klimt?’ I asked.

‘No, I painted that. It is my daughter, Marisol.’

‘It’s lovely,’ I said, wanting to say something nice at that moment, rather than what I wanted to say which was Why aren’t her eyes in a straight line and why do her toes look like sausages? I figured I needed to keep this guy on-side. I switched on Hilary. ‘You’re so talented.’

‘Thank you. I used oils and gold leaf. It does not do her beauty justice but I try.’

‘Where is she now?’

He stared back at me. ‘She’s dead. I haven’t painted anything since.’

I followed him out to the baking hot pool terrace – a wide-open space overlooking a manicured lawn edged with empty borders. In the centre was a large stone igloo and next to the pool an ornate shed like a large Wendy house.

‘It’s great here,’ I said, breathing in the sultry heat.

‘You are only here for two months.’

‘What do I do after two months?’

‘The agreement was for surgery, recovery time and a new passport. You’ll be gone by April. And I need your name for your passport too.’

‘Can’t I be Hilary Sharp again?’

‘No. You must break the chain from Europe in case they tracked you.’

‘How about Marisol? Like your daughter?’

‘No.’

‘Anne? Or Aña? At least it would be an echo of Rhiannon.’

‘No, and no tilde. A white-bread name, unlinked to your past.’

‘I can’t pluck a new name from thin air. I need time to think.’

‘Well, you need to think of it soon. In the meantime…’ He gestured towards the stone igloo. ‘This my temazcal. Get me your old passport.’

He held out his hand and I heaved my rucksack round and fished around for it. ‘Why do you need it?’

‘To break the chain,’ he said, entering the stone igloo. ‘You have an iPhone too Dannielle said?’

‘No, I lobbed it in the Tiber.’

‘Good.’ Tenoch entered the temazcal. By the time I’d followed him in, a fire was alight in the central pit, lined with old ashes and charred sticks. My passport was on the pyre, bubbling.

‘Oh fuck,’ I said, my chest tightening at the sight of my only ticket out of Mexico bubbling and burning to a crisp.