I do have sex scenes in my books, I just don’t usually get into them getting into it. I’ll have some descriptive kissing, maybe some clothes will start coming off, but as soon as stuff is about to happen – oh, sorry, dear reader, that’s the end of the chapter. I just can’t bring myself to write it.

I stare at my screen with my hands hovering over my keyboard. I’m trying to think sexy thoughts, but they’re not really happening. I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me – yep, that old excuse.

I yawn, a combination of tired and bored of trying to write and getting nowhere.

I check my phone, to see if there is anything from Ali. We were texting earlier but she said she was getting an early night. Tomorrow she has a date with a man whose dad owns a department store (which she thinks is going to get her free shoes), who has been sexting her about his passion for practising tantra (which is why she’s getting an early night).

I have nothing to do and no one to talk to… I suppose there is Freddie, next door. Handsome, sexy Freddie, with his muscles and his messy hair and his cheeky charm.

I look down at my underwear angrily – you’re doing this to me, making me have impure thoughts.

I wiggle into a more comfortable position as the sleepy feeling starts to take over.

I suppose I should get my beauty sleep; after all, tomorrow I am sure I have a big day… of absolutely nothing.

13

Day 5

I jolt upright in my bed. What was that?

The sun shining in through the bedroom windows tells me that it’s morning. I wish I’d closed the blinds last night because it feels as if it is dissolving my eyes. As I wait for them to adjust, I hear the strange noise again. It’s more of a screeching noise now. It sounds like it’s coming from a woman – a woman in trouble.

I hurry on my dressing gown because, for some reason, I feel even more vulnerable, being so undressed.

As I creep down the stairs slowly, I hear it again. This time, I’d describe the noise as a squeal, sort of like a pig makes.

I notice, straight ahead of me, that the door is open, which makes me think someone has been in here while I was asleep. As I near the bottom of the stairs, I realise that someone is in here right now.

Savino, the porter who brought me here, is standing in the kitchen.

‘Hello?’ I say to him. His face falls.

‘Lila?’

A voice from my not so distant past chills me to my core. It’s Daniel’s voice, there’s no mistaking that. It surprises me that I’m pleased to hear his voice, and I’m touched that he’s followed me to Italy. I think I’d been telling myself that, if he did turn up, I’d be throwing him into the pool, but now that he’s here, maybe to apologise…