‘Yes, I was just in with Linus,’ Bell said, seeing how Emil looked wracked with pain. She frowned. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Not really. The headaches are making him crazy.’

‘I’m not crazy.’

‘You were about to be,’ Nina sniffed. She looked back at Bell. ‘Could you help me get him into his room? He’s being obstinately heavy.’

‘I’m not. I just can’t see that well right now. Everything’s fuzzy round the edges.’ He was mumbling.

‘Just take his other arm, would you?’ Nina instructed.

Bell did as she was told, draping his arm over her shoulder, the scent of him wrapping around her like a fur boa. She closed her eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t him.

‘For chrissakes, I’m not an invalid. I don’t need you both to help me walk,’ he resisted, trying to remove his arm from her.

‘No, you’re quite right,’ Nina said glancing across at the two of them. ‘You can manage with just one of us. Fine, trot along then,’ she said, ducking out of the way herself. ‘I’ll get back to our treasured guests.’

They both watched her go, feeling they’d been somehow played, but not quite sure how. Or why.

‘Well . . .’ Bell said after a heavy pause. ‘Let’s get you resting, then.’

‘I don’t need—’

‘Oh just stop,’ she snapped, losing patience with his continual protestations. ‘You’re clearly not well. Just accept the help, okay?’ And when she saw his astounded expression. ‘What? You’re not my boss.’

They continued down the landing and into his bedroom. Bell kept her eyes down as they crossed the floor, helping him onto the side of the bed. ‘You should lie down,’ she said.

He sat instead.

She refused to even look at the room – she had resolved never to return here, to the scene of her humiliation – but walked straight over to the table by the window and poured him a glass of water from the carafe. ‘Here, drink that. It’s important to keep hydrated with headaches.’

He obeyed, watching her as he drank. ‘You’re angry with me.’

‘Why should I be angry at you?’ He arched an eyebrow but didn’t reply, which only served to make her . . . angry. ‘Do you need some painkillers? I think it’s very clear you do,’ she said briskly, giving him no time to answer.

‘I’ll get them—’ But she was already heading across the room again, towards the bathroom. ‘Fine, invade my privacy then,’ he called after her.

She walked through to the en-suite. It was easily the size of her bedroom in the apartment, white strip-wood floors, a walk-in shower, a marble-topped vanity unit. She pressed the push-doors of the wall cabinet and scanned the contents – deodorant, toothpaste, comb, moisturiser, various vitamins.

‘They’re in a bag. New prescription,’ he called through.

She crouched low and opened the cupboard, her eyes falling to a white paper bag on the top shelf. She grabbed it and peered in, finding what she was looking for, but as she was withdrawing, she caught sight of the sheer number of pill boxes and bottles in there. It was like a pharmacy stockroom, evidence of the vast chemical formulations that had been needed to put his body back together and now keep him functioning, pain-free. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to see this; it was evidence of his frailty.