She explains the issue she’s having with the release system, playing up the silly-woman-doesn’t-understand-tech thing. She’s got no shame tonight. Whatever it takes. She just wants to head out into the summer evening in her new dress.

‘I’m missing something obvious,’ she says.

‘First it’s the pool cleaner, then the gas hob, and now this,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry, it must be this end.’

‘How do you mean?’

She wasn’t too bothered that the pool cleaner in Cornwall was broken – she prefers to swim in the sea anyway – but he fixed it quickly. The gas hob too.

‘Both properties are run on the same operating system,’ he says. ‘It’s been experiencing a few problems since the most recent upgrade.’

‘It’s a home, Rob, not a bloody computer.’

Hear yourself, Kate, as Bex would say. She sounds like a spoilt brat.

‘I know, I know,’ he says.

She can hardly complain that there’s a glitch in the door software of the luxury penthouse apartment in Shoreditch where she’s lucky enough to be staying. Talk about a First World problem.

‘So how do I get out of here?’ she asks, glancing around at the windows. They’re all sealed; the apartment is regulated by a smart air-con system. ‘I wanted to head over to the Tate for a couple of hours. Before you get back.’

‘Give me ten and it’ll be sorted,’ he says. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Kate walks across the living space and goes upstairs to the roof terrace. It’s a stunning evening: the sun’s beginning to set, softening London’s harsh, jagged skyline with its warm hues. If she is genuinely stuck, could she get out of the building from up here? She peers over the wall. It’s a sheer drop to the street more than a hundred feet below. No chance. The phone starts to ring again downstairs.

‘The door’s going to take a while to fix,’ a voice says. It belongs to the irritating woman in Rob’s office who she spoke to earlier.

‘Can I talk to Rob?’ Kate says.

‘He’s a little busy in a meeting right now,’ the woman replies. ‘He’ll call you right back.’