It shamed Petra just how good this made her feel. That she, poor little Commonwealth girl, could make Old Money Suki Barlow jealous of anything was a personal achievement. Even though, of course, the achievement had nothing to do with her own endeavour. ‘No,’ she said, ‘tell me again.’

Suki scowled. ‘So you did part one on Friday night – Intimacy, was it? What was it like?’

‘Essentially, it’s a hyperreal dinner date – you sit in a real restaurant and follow commands piped into your ears. I don’t know – the production somehow got us to hear things on the inside of our skulls—’

‘They’re called headphones, love,’ Suki chipped in.

‘Ha ha. It was more than that. Like they’d taken control of my nerves and my brain chemicals.’ Suki was still looking sceptical. ‘Ag, never mind. It’s hard to explain. I shouldn’t be trying anyway.’

‘Ah, already part of the Metamuse cult. What, do they make you sign an NDA?’

‘No,’ Petra said. ‘It’s not that. It’s just…’

‘You have to experience it for yourself. That’s what all the bloody reviewers say. Lazy hacks.’

‘It’s because it’s audio and motion, dynamic. The experience is tailored to each participant. I guess it’s hard to encapsulate in a review.’ Suki rolled her eyes. ‘But I can tell you it had an effect. They encourage you to do it if you know each other, and I think there must be different grades or narratives, because you wouldn’t want to do this one with your mother, or brother, say…’

‘God forbid,’ Suki said.

‘The one Falling Man and I did… Jesus.’ She liked referring to Vincent as ‘Falling Man’ – it was her own private code shared only with Suki, and encapsulated all the romance and the physical longing she couldn’t broach with anyone else. ‘We were asked to stare into each other’s eyes while this track played, and, God, I felt it in—’

‘Oi, Freddie,’ Suki called across, tapping her wrist. ‘Opening time. Murphy’s calling.’

Freddie put the magazine back on the rack, and did his best attempt at a confident saunter out of the shop. Two interchanges with Suki in one morning. As good as second base.

‘So all this mind-blowing artificial intimacy is why you pulled a sickie on Saturday morning?’

‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not, darling. In these stolid times, the pursuit of passion is the highest calling. What else would I be doing on a Saturday morning?’

Petra could imagine all manner of answers to that question. The woman might be some sort of vampire; she never seemed to sleep. She seemed to go places and be back without travelling. The Abarth might simply be a prop to help her blend in, when she actually transmogrified and translocated and transformed her way around the country.

‘You knew I wasn’t really sick, didn’t you? I used our emergency code.’

Suki picked up her phone and pretended to read a text message off it. ‘Dear Suki – something’s come up. Running a temperature. Your darling Pet.’