“The reason why I did what I just did” – Isaac props himself up on his elbow again – “was to help you. You might think it was cruel, in light of what happened with Frank – particularly in light of that – but I had to do it. I had to make you relive the trauma in a safe environment to give you the opportunity to be honest with yourself. You don’t want to kill Daisy, not deep down, but you’re carrying around a lot of anger about that relationship. Do you suffer from eczema or asthma, Emma?”

I shake my head.

“Psoriasis, then?”

“I get flare-ups when I’m stressed.”

“There you go. Asthma, eczema, psoriasis, IBS – they’re all outward symptoms of issues that are going on in your psyche that you’re trying to repress. They’re your subconscious manifesting itself in a cry for help – not to the outside world but to your own consciousness. Ninety-nine per cent of illnesses are caused by stress, and where does stress come from?” He taps the side of his head. If you can sort out what’s going on up here, you can sort out everything else. You don’t need your anti-anxiety tablets to prevent your panic attacks, Emma; you need to address the cause of them.”

“I know, but—”

“God, Emma.” Isaac tips his head to one side and looks at me in wonderment. “If you could see the look on your face right now. The light in your eyes is …” He shakes his head. “… wow.”

“Don’t.” I reach for the ashtray and grind my rollie into it, spending longer than necessary ensuring the glowing tip is ground out. I’m prickling with embarrassment and I can’t meet his eyes.

“You have no idea, do you? No idea at all how beautiful you are? The first time I saw you, walking towards the gates of Ekanta Yatra, with your shoulders folded in, your head down, I wanted to shake you. You were trying to hide because you felt big and awkward and unattractive compared to Daisy, and you didn’t want me to notice you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? You think she’s more attractive than you, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Women like her are ten-a-penny. She wears her sexuality like a beacon, blinding men with the intensity of it, stunning them into submission. But there’s a reason why she’s still alone, Emma – why she’s so desperately unhappy: she thinks, deep down, that she’s an ugly, worthless human being. Why else would she be so desperate to get men into bed to validate her self-worth?”

“But they still sleep with her.”

“Because she’s available, because she makes them feel good about themselves. But the light Daisy emits isn’t real, Emma. She can switch it on and off like a light bulb. Yours is real, but you hide it.”