‘And you? Are you scared by anything?’ she asks, doubting that he’s troubled by much in life. It’s her he worries about not himself. She used to think he was nervous when she first met him, but it’s just his energy. Rob’s protean brain never stops; it whirrs like a supercomputer. He’s an Irish geek. His phrase, not hers.

It’s a while before he answers.

‘When I was a teenager,’ he begins, ‘I was terrified of meeting my doppelgänger.’

She glances up at him, surprised. ‘It’s supposed to be a bad omen if you see one,’ he continues, looking out to sea. Rob’s never struck her as a superstitious person. Far from it. His life is ruled by modern technology, not by fanciful myths. She doodles a pattern in the soft sand, hoping that he will continue. They don’t often talk in this way, not about him, his fears. It’s always about her.

‘Are you still frightened?’ she prompts.

‘And now everyone’s into posting selfies on social media,’ he says, ignoring her question, ‘it’s well within the bounds of probability for all of us to be found by someone with an exact physical likeness.’

She feels a pang of disappointment. He’s reverted to work speak just when she thought he was opening up. Returned to safer ground.

‘There are several billion faces online, waiting to be matched. Believe me, I’ve done the maths, crunched the numbers.’

Of course he has. But she’s taken aback by what he says next.

‘We’ve all got a double out there somewhere, watching, waiting. Shadowless.’ He looks around the cove, up at the clifftop behind them. The man with the binoculars has gone. ‘And I’ve already met mine, a long time ago.’

‘When?’ she asks. He doesn’t answer.

‘They say it’s bad enough to see your double once, but it’s meant to be much worse if you meet them a second time.’ He pauses. ‘The day I see him again will be my last. He’ll take over my life, me, you, the house, my company, all that I’ve achieved, everything that’s precious to me.’

He pauses, eyes welling as the Cornish sun disappears behind a solitary cloud, casting the beach into sudden shade. ‘He’ll steal my soul.’

Friday

2

Kate

‘What to do with ourselves, eh?’ Kate says to Stretch, drumming her fingers on the Tesla’s steering wheel. She’s driven over to Newquay to meet Rob’s Friday evening flight from London Heathrow and she’s now waiting in the car park. It’s like being on a first date. She’s tried listening to the radio, but she can’t concentrate. She’s filed her nails, checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror, scrolled through her Instagram feed. Stretch is beside himself with excitement too, unable to settle on the plush leather passenger seat.