She glared at him, fighting the urge to hit back, to use his past against him, to pluck the scab off his vulnerability and plunge her nails into the fresh wound. She could destroy him if she wanted but she was better than that, cleverer. If he wanted to play, she’d win.

‘You’re right.’ She tossed back her head and laughed. ‘Absolutely right. I’m terrified of the woman. Have you seen the scowl she pulls when I announce the next day’s activities? And her face when she doesn’t like her food? She’s a monster and I hold my hands up, I’m absolutely terrified. You got me.’

Damian’s smirk slipped but he didn’t straighten up. Instead he continued to meet her eyes, his gaze unwavering. ‘I think you might have met your match, Kate. No wonder you’re scared.’

‘Stupid fucking arsehole,’ Kate mutters now as she hangs the coats on the hooks in the small wooden lodge that serves as a guest reception area for the activity centre. She could feel Damian watching her at dinner the night before, as she served up steak and ale stew with mashed potatoes and roasted carrots. She heard his laugh as she took her seat directly opposite Geraldine; but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear to see the twisted smirk on his face. She forced herself to make small talk with Geraldine – each question like a knife in her chest. Where do you live in London? Have you been there long? What made you choose SoulShrink over similar retreats? Geraldine batted answers back at her – North London, several years, I’d heard of it. To other questions – do you have family? Any children? What did you do before you retired – Geraldine took longer, forking food into her mouth, chewing interminably slowly before answering. And then dinner was over and Geraldine took herself off ‘to check on Joy’. Loyal, long-suffering Joy, who was still in bed, insipidly pale, and hadn’t been able to attend the afternoon’s activities.