Jenna protested – she didn’t want to be anywhere near Tom – but Kate pushed her until she finally agreed; she’d go to her therapy session and she wouldn’t mention a word about the slap. But now she’s mere feet away from sitting alone in a room with him she doesn’t see how she can. How can she look him in the eye, and say nothing, when she knows what he did? How can she open up to him when all she wants to do is scream abuse in his face?

Just yesterday she was in the sea with him, laughing and talking and swimming. She liked him. She respected him. She was attracted to him. And now here she is, standing at the far end of the alley, pressed up against the wall of his chalet, feeling sick with anger and fear.

You can do this, she tells herself, then she walks around the corner and into his room.

Tom’s chalet is twice the size of Jenna and Erica’s, with a double bed against the back wall with two armchairs in front, either side of a low table. The bed has been made and the pillows have been plumped but there’s no sign of any personal items. No suitcase, clothes or books. The only sign that anyone lives in the room is an electronic key fob, lying on one of the bedside tables. She sniffs the air. Is that coffee she can smell?

The door at the far end of the room opens and Tom walks in with two steaming mugs in his hands. He jolts as he notices Jenna, hovering beside one of the armchairs, then smiles widely.

‘Hi! You’re here. Sorry, I wanted to have everything set up before—’

‘I can leave.’

‘No, no. Take a seat. It’s all good.’

As Jenna sits down, Tom places the coffees on the table and she catches a waft of his vanilla tobacco aftershave mixed in with the warm, rich scent of their drinks. She watches as he moves over to the patio doors and pulls them closed. They spent over an hour alone when they went swimming last night and he didn’t so much as touch her, but she doesn’t trust him anymore. What she overheard put paid to that.

‘How are you doing?’ Tom settles himself into the armchair on the other side of the table.

Jenna takes a sip of her coffee then sets it back on the table, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Not really.’ She can feel him watching her, his eyes roaming her face, reading her expression, but she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

‘Why’s that?’

‘I found a dead bird outside my room last night.’

‘Sounds horrible.’