‘It was on a few minutes ago,’ she says, wondering if she’s imagined the whole thing. ‘A feature about the tech sector in France. Rob was being interviewed in Brest, but I swear it wasn’t him. He was speaking in fluent French but he’s crap at languages.’

‘When was he there?’ Bex asks.

‘I’m not sure. I didn’t know he’d gone.’

Bex has every reason not to believe her without seeing the footage for herself. Where is it? And then Kate finds the story and she’s shocked all over again by the words.

‘Here,’ she says, turning the laptop so that Bex can see it. ‘Take a look at this.’

They both watch the item on the France 24 website, Kate offering a rough running translation.

‘He is saying how his company was drawn to that part of France… one of thirteen regions recently awarded “Capital French Tech” status or something… because it has a history of military digital expertise and investment in health tech.’ She stops, unable to go on. They both listen as Rob talks about Brest providing the perfect culture for developing neural networks and machine learning. It’s complicated, technical French. ‘Brest est la culture parfaite pour nous alors que nous cherchons à déveloper des réseaux de neurones profonds et un apprentissage automatique.’

‘See what I mean?’ Kate says, glancing at Bex.

Bex looks at her and then back at the laptop. ‘It looks like him, Kate,’ she says quietly, still staring at the screen. ‘That’s definitely Rob. The man I met at Paddington yesterday. Who I’ve met several times before. Your fit new boyfriend, you lucky bugger.’

‘Who’s suddenly fluent in fucking French.’

‘Maybe he’s got a good teacher – you said he’s having lessons.’

‘He’s rubbish, Bex,’ she says. ‘And I mean truly rubbish. I was trying to help him just the other day.’

They stand in silence, watching as the video finishes. Bex appears troubled by it too, at least momentarily.

‘Just the other day?’ she asks.

‘A couple of weeks ago.’

Bex leans down to stroke Stretch, who seems to have picked up on the tension that’s suddenly flared between them. ‘You’ve got to stop this,’ she says.

‘I know,’ Kate says. ‘I’m sorry. It’s late. I saw the news, I’m tired, my brain began to get ahead of itself.’

‘It’s OK,’ Bex says, putting an arm around her. ‘Rob’s a bright boy. Must be a quick learner.’

Maybe she’s right. Rob can turn his hand to anything when he tries. Even French, it seems. Kate’s still not convinced, though.

‘What are we going to do with you?’ Bex asks.

‘I just thought, you know, maybe someone has taken Rob’s place…’ She stops, her lower lip beginning to tremble as the feelings return.