I look back towards the space where that guy was standing just a few moments ago, but he’s well gone now. ‘Hon, are you sure? I mean there are a lot of tall guys with dark hair around here.’ I mentally run through the guys I’ve slept with while in Paris. Please, dear god, don’t let me have a stalker situation on my hands. But none of them match her description. Camilla is gripping her jaw and I need to reassure her. ‘I mean, look around.’

She glances back inside, over the crowd – and there are, indeed, many tall, dark-haired men among them. But then her gaze snaps back to me.

‘I’m sure.’

I wake up breathless, my legs tangled in damp sheets. I was having a bad dream but I can’t remember what it was. I pull my eye mask from my face and lie still in the darkness, my eyes fixed on a silvery spider’s web in the upper corner of my window, until my breath slows down. I’d go back to sleep but I need to pee, so I tiptoe through to the bathroom in a daze.

There’s a blue-white glow coming from the sofa. It’s Camilla. I can just make out her face in the light cast from her phone.

‘Mills?’ I ask.

She looks up at me.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Can’t you sleep?’

She shakes her head and I feel around on the wall for a light switch.

Flick.

We both squint against the light. She’s huddled beneath her blankets, tears streaming down her face.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask, moving over to her and sitting down.

‘I’m just so scared,’ she says, ‘my heart won’t stop racing.’

I take her hand in both of mine. ‘What are you scared of?’

She takes a deep breath. ‘What if something happens to you?’ she says, holding up her phone.

I look at it. ‘What have you been reading?’

‘Everything,’ she says. ‘I can’t stop reading it. I’m telling you, that guy tonight was bad news. I could feel it. I know it was the same guy I saw outside here. I just know. And as soon as I clocked him, he left. Why would he do that if he wasn’t doing something bad? What if that article’s right? What if there is some crazed killer on the loose?’ It all comes out like a waterfall.

‘Hon,’ I say, squeezing her hand. ‘Have you seen how many door codes are between me and the outside world? How many stairs? Someone would have to be pretty fucking committed to kill me.’

She starts to laugh. ‘Don’t joke about this. It’s serious. It could have been you.’