She cocks her head, her eyes not leaving mine. ‘And why do you think he does that?’

I shrug. ‘You tell me, Shrink.’

Dr. Robinson nods to signify that the subject is now finished with and she will retain this information for a later discussion.

‘Back to the Christmas Fair. Did you and Ness speak?’

‘Not at first. But she seemed very different to how she was in the park. At first, I’d got the impression that she was a bit square – her clothes were pretty sensible, she seemed stilted. But here at the fair, she looked completely different. She was glamorous, more confident – perhaps because she was with Leah, or maybe it was the alcohol, I don’t know. She wasn’t nervy and twitchy at all. Anyway, later on, Leah had taken the kids home and some of us were in the playground, a bit drunk, and Ness came back from the loo with a piece of toilet paper hanging off her skirt and neither she nor I could get it off. We were laughing and mucking about; I smeared some chocolate soldier on it, just being stupid. That was when we connected, I’d say. She was really beautiful. I could see it now, this beauty everyone was talking about. It was quite extraordinary. How on earth could I have missed it? Anyway, she was laughing so much, leaning on me to try and pull it off. She was very close. And then, wham! My God! I got it! That scent! She was wearing the same Jo Malone perfume!’

‘Your perfume? The same perfume she had commented on in the park?’ Dr. Robinson asks, reassuringly affronted. (That’s all you really want from a psychologist: agreement.)

‘Yes.’

‘Did you say anything?’

‘I did! I said, Oh! You bought the Jo Malone? But she looked nonplussed, as if she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.’

‘How peculiar.’

‘Very. I thought it most strange that she made no mention of our previous conversation in the playground. It struck me again that she wasn’t very self-aware.’

‘And how did it make you feel, the fact that she was wearing your perfume?’

‘I suppose I felt flattered . . .’

‘Nothing else?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I felt a bit robbed. Like she was stealing from me by not acknowledging that she’d copied me.’

She nods. She’s taking it in, frowning. ‘Which scent was it, out of curiosity?’

I smile. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not the same one you’re wearing.’ We’re not allowed scent in here, so you can smell the outsiders a mile off. She looks caught out.

‘Mine’s bath oil,’ she says, leaving us both with the intriguing image of her standing naked by a bath pouring grapefruit oil underneath a hot running tap.

‘Did you feel jealous?’ she asks.

‘Of whom?’

‘Of Ness and Leah, of their life together?’