‘Really?’ I say, reaching for his arm. ‘That’d be amazing, thank you.’ I give a small smile, like it’s an unexpected win.

‘Send me the photo,’ he says, rolling onto his back.

I hesitate for a brief moment, thinking of Stan and what happened on Friday. Thomas is a journalist too. What if he looks into it and finds something big and writes the story himself? But there’s nothing in that image that speaks of Agnès Bisset or the Klimt, so I attach it to a text message and press send. His phone beeps from somewhere over near the computer and I lean across and kiss him on the cheek then pull away and sit on the side of the bed.

Mission accomplished. I can go home now.

The air is cold without him hugging me and my arms prickle with goosebumps. I look around the room for my clothes. My bra is on the floor so I slip it on and fasten it in silence. My knickers are right beside it, so they go on next. Thomas just lies in bed watching me move.

My skirt and jumper are hanging over the chair by the window and I get up out of bed and move towards them. Reach for them. I’m standing half-naked glancing out onto the street, scanning for anyone who might be looking in. But we’re on the third floor, I’m pretty safe from prying eyes… except.

What. The. Fuck.

My stomach clenches and I step back quickly from the window, peering around the curtain.

‘What’s wrong?’ Thomas asks.

I’m shaking my head, like if I say ‘no’ internally I can will it into falsehood. ‘There’s a guy out there,’ I say, my voice cracking. I’m mentally comparing the guy outside with Camilla’s description – tall, dark, beaky – and the guy on the metro on Monday.

It’s him. I know it’s him.

‘He keeps following me,’ I say. ‘I don’t know who he is. Here.’ I scroll through to my photos. ‘I took some photos of him on Monday.’ I offer him the phone, but he’s too busy pulling on his jeans to look.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

I nod. But I’m dizzy now so I hold onto the wall for stability.

‘Okay… shit,’ Thomas says, pulling on a thick jumper. ‘I guess I’ll go and see what’s going on then.’ He grabs his keys and heads for the door, pulls on some boots and then, bang, he’s gone. And I’m just standing here not sure what to do. So I creep over to the window and, hiding behind the curtains, I peek out.

First, I see Thomas appear from the bottom of the building.

His arms swinging by his sides as he moves across the road and walks right up to the man.

The man is acting surprised.