Which makes me an idiot. It’s possible for one, two, four, eight, a thousand men not to love you, each in his own special way.

I wish I hadn’t already torn up Delirium of the Brave and thrown it away. I should have waited till I got here, to the Whitworth Hotel. This would have been the perfect place for its desecration.

‘You okay?’ Charlie appears at my side. ‘Have you thought of something else? You look weird.’

There’s a feeling of emptiness inside me that’s so powerful, it’s obliterating all the words I might use to describe it. I do what any self-respecting comedian would do and try to make light of it. ‘It’s just dawning on me: I’m far more fucked up than I thought I was. And I thought I was pretty bad.’

‘I often feel that way,’ Charlie says airily. ‘Then a few minutes later, I’m convinced I’m the only sane person in a world full of nutters. You and Liam were in room 15, by the way.’

‘You’re going to ask me to go up and look at it, aren’t you?’

‘Just a quick peek inside, to confirm it’s the room you remember staying in with Liam. Please?’

‘Why? Because Simon says so?’

‘Look, I don’t get it either, but … his infuriating pedantry seems to work.’

‘Okay, fine. Let’s get it over with.’ Halfway up the stairs, I stop. Agreeing to this doesn’t mean I agree to everything. ‘Do I have to meet Niall Greeves? Confirm he’s the man who gave me the little book?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Greeves has confirmed that himself.’

‘Good. I don’t want to meet him.’

We arrive at the door to room 15. Charlie unlocks it. I walk in first. Soonest in, soonest out – that’s the idea.

How can someone as gobby and obnoxious as I am be so scared of everything? I don’t understand it.

‘It looks like the same room,’ I say in a monotone. ‘Narrow bed, horrid pink curtains with a silly pelmet. What if all the rooms here look the same?’

‘I think you saying it looks the same and the receptionist saying this was the one will be good enough even for Simon.’ Charlie smiles. ‘Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go and find something to eat.’

I stay where I am, staring out of the pelmeted window at the row of buildings opposite and, beyond them, a big Tesco in the distance. There was no reason to avoid room 15, it turns out. I don’t feel worse than I did downstairs. I feel better, if anything.

‘I’ve been avoiding thinking about him out of fear, but it’s not fear he’ll kill me.’ The words rush out before I can stop them.

‘Who?’

‘Niall Greeves. He’s not Billy, is he?’

‘Simon doesn’t think so, no.’