Jenna looks for him now, scanning the sea of people clambering over the wall or traipsing alongside her, their flip-flops slapping against the rough ground and their white dressing gowns billowing in the wind, but there’s no sign of him. He hasn’t said a word to her since he saw her and Tom in the pool two nights ago but she’s felt his dark eyes on her, at every meal and in every meeting: silently judging her, subtly shaking his head. If he had seen their near kiss he hadn’t told anyone about it, of that she’s pretty sure. No one else has given her sly looks or talked about her behind their hands and Kate, well, Kate’s just been Kate, bouncing around from person to person with a clipboard in her hands and a sour look on her face. Other than mealtimes, Jenna has only seen Tom twice since they first slept together. The first time they crossed paths she was heading to the spa. Aware that other people might see, or overhear them, Jenna nodded and smiled but kept walking. Tom touched her elbow as she passed, making her pause.

‘You okay?’ he asked. The tense expression on his face evaporated as she started to laugh. ‘I’ll take it that’s a yes.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m happy. I’m good.’

‘Are you still okay with the … the plan?’

She nodded. Their plan was devised after the third time they had sex – a hurried, desperate, clawing, grabbing shag in the last few minutes of her session. They would avoid each other for the rest of the retreat, they decided, then, when they returned to London, Tom would tell Kate that he wasn’t going to be part of SoulShrink anymore. Then he’d ring Jenna and they’d arrange to meet up.

‘Or we could just … you know … just fuck off together now,’ Tom had joked. ‘Do the sweat lodge and then jump on the next ferry out of here. Get a job in a bar in Madrid or … I don’t know, be a gardener in Morocco. Not that I know the first thing about plants.’

She’d liked the sound of that, running away and never going back to the UK. They could create a new life, a cocoon that would protect them from the outside world. She wouldn’t have to tell her dad what she knew, wouldn’t have to deal with her mum’s wrath. Fran wouldn’t notice if Jenna lived in a different country. Neither would her friends; they were so busy with their own lives they mostly communicated by WhatsApp anyway. Her clients might miss her but they’d find other physiotherapists. There was nothing to stop her from running away with Tom. Nothing at all.