She closed her eyes, desperately wishing she was back in her London flat, wandering around in her underwear and over-watering her plants. She wanted to have brunch at Bluebird, watch a film at the Picture House, get plastered at the Duke of Cambridge. She wanted to be able to walk into a room and not feel despised by the people sitting in it. She wanted to go for a run in Battersea Park, go shopping on the King’s Road, get her hair done and maybe – blow the doors off! – her nails too.

She bent down and splashed cold water on her face. It felt good on the bruise. Diminishing. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps she should go for a swim? It would do her good to move her body. She could feel her inertia beginning to depress her mood.

She changed into her bikini and grabbed the towel, walking carefully downstairs. Her balance had fully recovered once the eye patch was off and she walked into the pool room, immediately feeling the warmth and humidity against her bare skin.

She dropped her towel on the lounger and—

She froze.

There was a body in the water, halfway along. It was facedown and floating, arms and legs limp, spread apart.

It was Kit.

Clover cried out in horror. She ran down the edge, diving in at a shallow pitch. The depth was less than two metres but there wasn’t even time to jump and duck dive. Her arms reached for him, encircling his chest, as her feet found the floor and she pushed up towards the surface . . .

Even before she could take a breath, he tore free of her grasp; she saw him wince as the violent movement jarred his bruised ribs.

What? She stared at him in disbelief.

‘What the fuck?’ He was panting, breathless. But definitely not drowned. He hadn’t inhaled any water.

‘I thought . . .’ She trod water in utter bafflement, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why had he been lying there like that if . . .?

‘Thought what?!’ he demanded. He looked wild. Again. He was furious with her. Again. ‘That I’d drowned?’ The word was mocking.

She felt her anger burst through at last. She couldn’t do it anymore – pretend to take the high road. He was insufferable. ‘Yes! What was I supposed to think?’ she cried. ‘You were just lying there!’

‘You actually thought I had drowned? In a fucking pool?’ he sneered, looking back at her. ‘Yeah, well, I guess you would think that. Wishful thinking?’

‘What?’ She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

‘Kit Foley found drowned! What a headline! What a fucking coup!’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’

‘You could have got live footage! Brought Johnny down here with his camera! There’d be your ending! Got what he deserved in the end, right? What goes around comes around! First Cory, then me!’