I scrub myself with Will’s posh soap, and wash my hair, but I’m convinced I can still smell Adam on me.

Should I tell Will what happened?

Would he believe me?

Would he think it was my fault?

Was it my fault?

I wrap myself in a towel again and lie on the bed. My skin feels pink and raw.

Will’ll be back soon.

I don’t want to be lying here like an invitation. That’s what Adam saw. Will isn’t like Adam but … even so. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea.

I haul myself up and dress in jeans and an old hoodie. I’m going to look frumpy compared with Nell in whatever her latest designer outfit will be this evening but right now, I don’t care. I can’t bear the thought of anything touching my skin. Anyone.

I consider telling Will that I still have a headache and don’t want any dinner but in spite of my massive lunch I’m unexpectedly starving and have already played the part of the whiny, annoying girlfriend quite enough this trip – if I’m not careful, Will might dump me. Also – what if Adam tells him what happened and I’m not there to give my version of the story? What if Adam tells Will I was coming on to him all afternoon and that we had sex while he was still out skiing? Would he do that? He’s always trying to get one up on Will but … would telling him what we – he – did be a step too far?

I don’t know.

Would Will believe me if I told him the truth?

I’m not sure about that either.

I change my mind and swap my hoodie for a nicer top – I don’t want Will to be embarrassed by me – but I put on a scarf too, so you can’t see my neck. There are grazes and bruises. They’re not big – they’re ones that I could explain away by saying my ski jacket was rubbing, but I don’t want Adam looking at my skin, seeing what he did. I think maybe he’d get a kick out of that.

A couple of hours later the four of us sit down for dinner. I avoid Adam’s eye, but the way he is acting this evening, it’s as if nothing has happened at all. He pours wine for us all, Nell and me first before himself and Will, as usual. The perfect gent. He winds Will up about breaking his ski, gently teases me about having a crush on my ski instructor, things like that. As if it’s an ordinary dinner on an ordinary night on an ordinary ski holiday, where nothing unusual happened and no one has been raped.