The truth is, most of that night remains a blur, despite the police reports that lay out the facts. I remember that the sense of shock far outweighed the sense of pleasure when I first felt him inside my body, his bulk pressing down on me. I remember, too, how little of the shock I let him see – my priority was making him feel like a conquering hero. I conjured up the right noises, the right dialogue, that completely obliterated my authentic experience of being with him. It wasn’t even that he was unskilled as a lover, but I was in no fit state to receive his well-practised moves. It’s funny how I simultaneously knew everything and nothing about how to handle men. The truth is, I knew everything about how to squeeze the most out of men who had nothing to give.

When I woke, the early morning sky was the colour of sour milk. Arthur was sitting on the side of the large, ornate wooden bed, his bare back and butt crack exposed to me. I felt a reverb of shock at his nakedness, at the memory of everything that had happened to me in the past twenty-four hours. He stood up, not looking over.

‘Arthur?’

He turned, his smile on a slight time delay.

‘Good morning, angel. I’m just going to hop in the shower.’

He directed an awkward thumb towards the en-suite, then crossed the room, everything exposed. I lay there, pulling the sheet around my own nakedness, unsure whether to scramble into the checked pyjamas that were strewn across the floor. I decided against it – surely I wanted him to come back and be overcome with lust, not blindsided by the knowledge that drunkenness meant he’d accidentally seduced Paddington?

I needn’t have worried. He came back in with a towel around his waist and began pulling on his clothes. He cast a rueful glance in my direction.

‘I’m sorry to have to rush off like this,’ he said. ‘I mean, it’s hardly the venue for it, but I’d love nothing more than to spend the day with you.’

I sat up against the bank of plump pillows, the white sheet forming an odd kind of bridal gown.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked, trying to prevent my voice morphing into a whine.

‘Didn’t I tell you yesterday? I’m taking my sons skiing. I’ve got to pick them up from their mum’s this afternoon.’

I wasn’t even aware he had sons, and I knew it was the kind of detail I’d have retained, even in my fragile state. After all, I’d been compiling an internal dossier on him ever since we’d met. It was one of my romantic tics – knowledge was power, and my power was always in short supply.

‘No, you didn’t,’ I said flatly.