‘I’m not saying it’s a good place,’ said Sophie as we arrived at the tapas bar. ‘There’s part of me that thinks it might have been a dream. You’re here really to corroborate my story.’

Sophie pushed forwards into the bar and we followed. Inside she hugged a young woman, and introduced her as Frankie, her friend from school, the restaurant manager. They talked about the man who had set the restaurant up, one of a small chain in London, and Frankie’s voice went up to emphasise the importance of the name I didn’t recognise.

‘Is the bishop in?’ asked Sophie.

‘The bishop’s always in,’ said Frankie, with a knowing nod and smile. We were told to go downstairs and say hi.

Rochi and I followed Sophie down the stairs to what looked like the toilets. But just beside those doors Sophie stopped in front of a full-length mirror and reached her nails behind its right side, pulling it open like a door to reveal a dim corridor, lined on each side by thick velvet curtains in sacristal purple. We stepped through and there we were greeted by a good-looking young man in a cassock. I could see his Converse trainers peeking under the hem. He had tousled indie-music hair and wore an iron cross over a black cassock.

‘Where’s your hat?’ asked Sophie.

‘It’s called a mitre,’ I said.

The bishop disappeared into an alcove and came back with the correct headgear.

‘Do you want a booth?’ he asked, before he led us along to the end of the corridor and pulled one of the curtains back to reveal a small table with church pews either side of it. There was a buzzer in the middle of the table. ‘Anything you need, just ring and I’ll bring it for you.’

‘This is sacrilegious,’ I said.

‘Isn’t it?’ said Sophie. ‘Look at this.’ She pulled the house rules off their hook on the wall.

WE GUARANTEE EVERYONE’S PRIVACY IN THIS PLACE OF REPENTANCE.

STRICTLY NO APPROACHING GUESTS IN NEIGHBOURING BOOTHS.

WE WILL NOT ENTER UNLESS YOU BUZZ.

TAKING DRUGS IS ILLEGAL AND A SIN.

WHAT GOES ON IN YOUR CONFESSIONAL IS BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR GOD.

Sophie turned the rules over to reveal that the reverse side of the sign was a mirror, tracked with the faint scratches a razor blade had made on its surface.