She was in her bedroom. Tom was on the bed, flat on his back, headphones jammed over his ears, eyes closed and breathing heavily. She checked that he was asleep then carefully opened the desk drawer and took out the small, black key fob hidden at the back. She pressed a pin into the hole in its side and slid an SSD out of the tray that popped out. Once the card was in the adaptor, she slotted it into her laptop then sat down on the floor with her back against the wall, out of sight of the bed.

The video app opened, showing an empty room apart from two armchairs, facing each other, with a low table separating them. When she pressed play, nothing happened for several minutes, then two men walked into the scene and sat down. One of the men was Tom, the other Peter.

Tom’s voice played in Kate’s headphones. It was his normal spiel – the therapy session was confidential, nothing they talked about would be shared outside the room. Blah, blah, blah.

‘To start,’ Tom said, ‘why don’t you tell me what it is you’re hoping to get out of this retreat?’

Kate stiffened as Peter’s gaze drifted to the window. Had he spotted the key fob camera, nestling in a dish on the sill? She relaxed as he turned his attention back to Tom.

‘I want to find out why I keep attracting unsuitable women.’

‘Okay.’ Tom nodded agreeably. ‘Can you tell me a bit more about that? In what way are they unsuitable?’

‘Well they don’t seem unsuitable initially, when I’m taking them out for dinner and shelling out for ridiculously expensive bottles of wine. At that point in our relationships they’re very pleasant, attentive and really quite fascinated by me.’

Kate raised an eyebrow.

‘When we discuss hobbies they seem very keen for me to educate them about classical music, to show them the very best of art house cinema and to join me on hikes.’

‘And then what happens?’

‘They become irritable. They moan. And they stop listening.’

‘And why is that, do you think?’

Peter turned his hands over, palms upwards. ‘You tell me; you’re the expert.’

‘Do you …’ Tom said delicately, ‘do you ever join in with their hobbies?’

‘Why would I want to do that? My own interests take up quite enough time.’

Kate pressed the fast-forward button. Peter was genuine. Everything about him screamed self-obsessed and narcissistic.

She watched the next video, skipping through Priyanka’s tearful session as she confided in Tom about the death of her husband. The next recording was Emily’s. She was one of the willowy blondes from London. Kate scrutinised Tom’s body language as Emily talked. He wasn’t the least bit interested, other than in a professional capacity.