‘I don’t care. Tell me something ridiculous or disgusting you’ve done that you’d rather people didn’t know about.’

‘I had sex with a woman once,’ said Ben.

‘Not good enough, we’ve all done that. Tell me something else.’

‘I’m not wearing any underwear.’

‘That’s just unhygienic. Try again.’

Ben thought about it, opened his mouth, then closed it.

‘Come on,’ insisted George. ‘You were about to say something.’

‘I can’t. You’ll mock me.’

‘I won’t, I promise.’

‘You promise?’

‘I just said that I promise.’

‘All right, then.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m a member of the Flat Earth Society,’ he said.

George sat back down in his seat and frowned. ‘The what?’ he asked.

‘The Flat Earth Society.’

George stared at him, uncertain whether or not the younger man was playing him for a fool. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re telling me that you don’t believe the world is round?’

‘Let’s just say that I’m sceptical,’ said Ben. ‘And anyway, Round Earthers have had it their own way for centuries and no one ever questions them. No one dares. They have it all sewn up, you see. But perhaps it’s time to challenge the consensus.’

‘Of course it is. Why accept basic reality when you can live in a world of fantasy instead? Pretend the Earth is flat and get children to believe you, that’ll help with their education. And while you’re at it, stand up against trained scientists when they want to administer medically proven vaccines because you heard some right-wing conspiracy theorist say on her live stream that they’re not safe, despite her not having had a single day’s worth of medical training in her life.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Ben.

‘I bet you protested against wearing masks last year.’

‘I did not,’ insisted Ben. ‘I wore with one with Shawn Mendes’ lips on it.’

‘It’s because of that thing,’ continued George, pointing at Ben’s phone, which was lying on the table between them. ‘If you were an American, you’d be one of those people insisting that Donald Trump had won the election.’

‘There were irregularities in—’ began Ben, but George cut him off.

‘That’s enough,’ he said, standing up and walking towards the window, wondering whether he should simply open it up and push this idiot out. The Earth might not be round, but it was certainly hard, and a six-storey drop would put a fine dent in Ben Bimbaum’s head.

THE SURGEON’S BROKEN HEART

Although Beverley was sitting in the drawing room of the Cleverleys’ five-floor Belgravia home, trying to maintain a polite interest in the conversation she was holding with a ghost, her mind was far away, soaring 35,000 feet above Europe, on an aeroplane headed for the north-western shore of the Black Sea.