‘Tilly, it’s Richenda,’ she informs me unnecessarily as I slip out of the room into the corridor. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long but, well, it’s probably best if I let Cindy explain when you meet her.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say aghast. ‘Did you say meet her?’

‘Yes.’ Richenda’s tone implies that this is the most obvious thing in the world, but it never crossed my mind and the thought fills me with horror. ‘She’d like you to come to my flat tomorrow, at half past one. Can you make that? I assume you can because you’re supposed to be meeting Luke at two, aren’t you?’

‘Umm, Richenda,’ I begin, desperately trying to think of a way to avoid what will undoubtedly be a very uncomfortable encounter. ‘When I said I was happy to fit in with whatever Cindy wanted to do, I didn’t think that would include, you know, face to face. I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see.’

‘Nonsense. It’s only natural that she’d be curious about you, and she thinks that the best way to approach this is for the two of you to ambush him together.’

‘I’m really not sure⁠—’

‘Half past one,’ she interrupts. ‘Don’t be late, will you?’

Before I can protest any further, she disconnects the call. All the peace that I felt sitting in Jonathan’s room just now has vanished as the reality of my situation comes crashing back in. I want to go back in there, to pretend everything is all right for just a little longer, but I feel polluted after my conversation with Richenda. She may not have said anything directly, but she made it pretty bloody clear through her tone that I am nothing more than the ‘other woman’, who is to do what she’s told.

‘I’m going to head off,’ I tell them as brightly as I can, sticking my head around the door. ‘I’ve got some stuff to do.’ Mainly burying my head under the duvet and hoping the world will go away, but they don’t need to know that.

‘Before you go, Tilly, I’ve got something for you,’ Jonathan says. ‘They’re talking about letting me out tomorrow, so I’d hate to miss you.’ He hands me a piece of paper. ‘It’s our address and phone number,’ he explains. ‘Come and see us, please. I expect we’ll be driving each other mad within a few days, so you’ll be doing us a favour.’

‘Thank you. I might just do that,’ I tell him, glancing briefly at it before folding it and sliding it into my pocket. I won’t, of course, but it was nice to be invited.

* * *