What? What did he think? She could never tell. She could peel back one layer, only to find a hundred more. Who lay at the heart of him? ‘I’m fine. I just needed to get away for a bit. Things were . . .’ It was her turn to run out of words.

‘I know.’

She couldn’t understand why he was down here. He’d never checked on her after the fight, when she’d had far worse injuries. He’d got her off that ledge without so much as a split nail – so why check on her now? ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He looked surprised by the question, as though it wasn’t something he’d ever been asked. He flinched, a defensive reaction. ‘Of course.’

‘Of course, because you’re invincible? It’s not every day you almost go over a cliff. You’re allowed to feel shaken up, you know.’

He stared back at her, looked away. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. He was wearing a dinner suit she didn’t remember seeing in the wardrobe. ‘. . . I’m more shaken by the fact that I didn’t push you off while I had the chance. What the hell was I thinking?’ he muttered, before giving a brief, dark smile.

She watched him stare at his shoes. He looked as uncomfortable as Ari about to be interviewed.

‘Well, my brother was very grateful you saved my life. He says I owe you a drink.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added quickly. ‘I set him straight on that score.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That hell will freeze over before you’d accept anything from me.’ She swallowed. ‘But still . . . thank you.’

He stared back at her and for a moment, she remembered being on the ledge with him, his body a windbreak, saving her all over again. She tried to gauge the setting between them. Where did they stand now? In the hours before she’d almost skied off the mountain, he had thrown her interview – and secrets – back in her face. She had hated him more then than ever. Now she no longer knew what to feel about anything when it came to him.

He stuffed a hand into his trouser pocket. ‘So are you coming tonight?’

Her eyebrow arched. Couldn’t he tell? She was standing before him in heels and a column of yellow silk. ‘Well, I don’t usually wear a gown for a TV supper, so . . .’

‘Right. Yeah. I mean, you look—’

‘Right Phillips, breathe in . . .’ Johnny appeared over Kit’s shoulder. ‘Oh!’

Kit half-turned. A small silence bloomed. The room felt airless and Clover felt strangely awkward, as though she and Kit had been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Something other than talking.

‘Sorry Johnny, Kit helped instead,’ she said with a weak smile.