Thea came out of the kitchen, carrying the coffees, which were definitely not the right colour. Her mind, rather unhelpfully, went as blank as a badly loaded webpage.

‘Umm … My mother thinks you’re a cult.’

Harriet raised a carefully shaded eyebrow.

Thea put the coffees down. ‘That wasn’t my question! Umm … what risks are there?’

Harriet considered her coffee with a distinct air of trepidation. ‘Ah, good question.’

Thea suspected that was what she always said, regardless of the actual first question offered. Harriet’s stiletto heels sank into the carpet, jabbing deep holes into the pile. She had already left a trail of little woodworm pocks from the front door to the chair.

‘Shall I tell you a bit more about the process first? So you understand, yes?’

Thea nodded and Harriet’s hand hovered near the cup. She was in her forties – older than Thea who was twenty-seven – and dressed in the kind of well-made pencil skirt and blouse that could not be picked up in the supermarket as part of a weekly shop.

‘The six-week trial is made up of three phases and each phase lasts two weeks. Phase One is orientation, where we get to know you. Phase Two is where we start with the tech, fine-tuning it as appropriate, with sleep as our goal. Phase Three is where we then use the tech to help you become the best that you can be.’

Best? Thea would gladly have settled for merely better. Even a bit.

Harriet’s delivery was smooth and expressive, and Thea got the distinct impression that this was a script she had gone through many times before. She still hadn’t picked up the mug.

‘The tech itself comprises two parts, the part you download onto your phone as an app, and the incredibly small discs that fix, completely harmlessly and without pain, to your temples. They work in tandem using a variety of technologies, some well-known, some new, to help you drift into the best sleep of your life.’

A diffuser puffed wheezily.

‘I am assuming you have exhausted all other possible options – therapy? Medication?’ Harriet picked up a pen as sleek and shiny as a bullet.

‘Yes,’ Thea said.

It wasn’t a complete lie – she had at least attended the therapy sessions a few times. And she’d tried medication, which, despite her misgivings, had worked. During the day. The office hadn’t been keen on her napping her working hours away.

‘And how do you think a lack of sleep is affecting you? Relationships and so on? Would you say you’ve got to a critical point?’ Harriet’s eyes ranged around the room, taking in the distinct lack of any happy couple or girl squad photos amongst the candles.