‘When you pet a cat,’ it reads, ‘the cat purrs. When you pet an octopus, the octopus pets you back. It loops a limb around your hand and explores you.’ Yes, she thinks. It does. It’s not a one-way interaction at all. Not that an interaction with a cat is one-way, but octopuses are so busy in the way they respond to your touch. As she continues to read, she realises just how busy. ‘Not only can octopuses touch and taste with their skin, new evidence suggests that cephalopods can also see with their skin, or do something very close to what we regard as seeing on a physiological level.’

As it wrapped its arms around her, did it see her tattoos? Did it recognise itself on her skin? (Could it taste the ink, secreted in her skin?)

She keeps reading, and discovers that scientists have proven that octopuses can learn vicariously, and that they can retain useful information—in other words they can remember things. Another article informs her that octopuses often show favouritism when it comes to researchers, consistently smooching up to one human while avoiding or squirting water at another; some prefer to be around female humans while others prefer male humans—apparently, they can taste oestrogen and testosterone.

They can taste oestrogen. Which means that her octopus—the one from last night—likely knew she was female. She knows that it’s female too, or at least she thinks she knows. It’s not like she was tasting it or anything. She’s just going off something Scott told her near to a year ago and, suddenly, her human capacity to register, perceive and recognise seems so inferior, so blunted. But no, it did seem female, somehow. She thinks of the arm, snaking between her legs, thinks uneasily about the location of an octopus’s penis. But no, it is female. She’s sure. Perhaps her body recognised it, on some kind of animal level outside of thought, words, reason?

It could taste her oestrogen. What else could it taste? Her infidelity? Could it taste Harry? Is that why it went there, because it was odd—the wrong flavour—and it wanted to investigate? She feels exposed, like she’s been read by someone with X-ray vision, but more than that because it didn’t just see her, it touched her and tasted her too. She also feels, strangely, like she’s gained an intimate—told her secret to a friend. Her body whispered it. Leaked it into the salty black.

Then she sees the image.

Her heart leaps to her throat and she slams the laptop shut. Blinks once, twice. Looks over her shoulder, to make sure Jem and Zach are still in bed, calms her breath and opens the computer again.