‘I do it all the time,’ Jenna continues. ‘When someone walks into my clinic I assess their posture, their gait and their balance. All before they even open their mouths. Ninety-nine percent of the time I know which part of their body they want me to focus on, even before they tell me.’

‘People are much better at masking their real selves than they are their physical ailments.’

They both fall silent. As it stretches into awkwardness Jenna wonders if she should say something, but Tom speaks before she does.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

‘Do you?’ She looks at him quizzically.

‘Kate,’ he says. ‘I know you were shocked that she hit me.’

‘It’s none of my business what goes on between the two of you.’

‘Can I …’ He gestures at the space between them. ‘I don’t want to be overheard.’

‘Sure.’

She keeps a hand pressed to the side of the pool as he moves closer, to steady herself, not because she’s scared.

‘It’s complicated.’ Tom’s eyes search hers. He’s inches away from her now and the air between them feels loaded, weighted with emotion. ‘The situation with me and Kate. It’s not a healthy … working relationship.’

‘Can’t you just sack her?’

‘Like I said, it’s complicated.’

‘Really? If one of your clients told you they were working somewhere where they were bullied, controlled and hit’ – Tom blanches at the word ‘hit’ – ‘would you advise them to stay?’

‘No, I wouldn’t. But Kate’s more than just an assistant. She helped build SoulShrink. It’s her baby. It was her idea. She’s grown it, made it what it is. I’m just a figurehead, really. I can’t sack Kate because … fuck.’ He looks away, towards the chalets on the other side of the pool.

‘What is it?’ Jenna asks.

‘I can’t … I shouldn’t …’ He rubs his hands over his damp face and growls in frustration. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You’re a client and it’s not professional. We shouldn’t even be in the pool together but …’ He slides his hands down his face and looks at her.

Jenna’s stomach hollows. There it is again, the expression in his eyes – the same one she saw when they met, when they talked on the plane, when they swam in the sea. It’s not compassion or kindness or caring. It’s not professional. It’s longing. And despair.

‘I know,’ she says softly. ‘I know.’

‘Yes, you do.’

His eyes are so full of desperation and pain she feels as though she’s absorbing it, pulling it inside of her and wrapping it tightly around her heart. She feels suffocated, excited, scared. It’s as though they’re suspended in time. It’s just her, and Tom, and the black inky sky and the warm pools of light and the shimmering water.