She grimaced. ‘That’s one word for it. To be honest, if his plan was to weed out the weaker candidates then it’s working. I think I’m done here.’

‘Really? Are you sure? With Baxter there’s no telling what will happen next. You could be on top by lunchtime.’

She stabbed the grapefruit one last time, leaving the spoon sticking out of it like a flagpole. ‘That’s the crucial factor, though, isn’t it? I don’t want to be in a job where I never know where I stand.’

I took sip of tea while I thought about this. ‘I take your point, but I can’t imagine Baxter having much to do with things day to day, once this part of the process is over.’

‘Maybe not. But don’t you think it’s telling that there are no producers or any other people from the newsroom here? The whole thing gives me bad vibes. Even if he offered me the job, I don’t think I’d take it.’

Fenella got up, took one last swig of her coffee, and walked out.

Two down, seven to go if you counted Henry.

A minute later Summer arrived, Jordan Jones right behind her. From the way they giggled and nudged each other at the food table, I wondered if Henry and I weren’t the only people who’d shared a room last night.

By the time Henry arrived a short while after that, everyone was reading through notes, perusing the online weather data or, in the case of Summer and Jordan, taking snaps and posting them on Instagram.

‘Okay?’ he murmured, coming to sit beside me with a bowl of porridge.

I nodded. ‘I’d be better if I knew what was coming next, but I feel as ready as I’ll ever be.’

At nine, Melody led us all back into the library. This morning she was dressed in a light-blue suit, on the back of which someone had taped a piece of paper with ‘poke here for a stinky fart’ scrawled on it. When she stopped to allow us to go past, Henry managed to discreetly tug it off and stick it in his pocket. Baxter was already standing in front of the fireplace, looking uncannily like one of the geese on either side of him in a tweed waistcoat and enormous cravat. Once we’d all trooped in, Melody invited us to take a seat.

‘The scoreboard, if you please.’ Baxter nodded at his assistant.

After the screen above his head lit up, he waited for what felt like an age but was probably less than a minute, his gaze slowly scanning from one side of the sofas to the other.

‘You all know where you stand. Two have already crumbled under the pressure. How many will still be here tomorrow? How far are you prepared to go to win a life that without me you could only dream of?’