‘As Belles seems to have spent her entire childhood frolicking on Mediterranean beaches, I think we’ll have to assume she’s right on this one,’ Andy said to Sam, who laughed.

They had nearly finished eating when Bella managed to drop an entire forkful of tomato, potato and anchovy into her lap.

‘Oh, bollocks.’ She laughed ruefully, watching the oily stain spreading across the pink cotton. ‘Why does this always happen when I’m wearing something new and pale?’

‘At least it wasn’t the gazpacho,’ said Sam, remembering how to pronounce it after only having heard it once.

‘That’s true. Always look on the bright side! Well, I’d better go and soak it. Back in a mo.’

Andy took a pack of Gauloises out of his jeans pocket.

‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ he asked Sam.

‘Course not! It’s your flat.’ Sam took a sip of her wine and cast around for something to say. ‘How’s your work going? I remember at Poppy’s wedding you were telling us all about some big story you’re working on – was it Russian people traffickers?’

‘You’ve got a good memory.’ Andy smiled at her through the cigarette smoke. ‘Yes, though it turns out it’s a much bigger deal than I realized at first. The big boss – who endorses more repulsive cruelty to young girls than I want to burden you with – has been going for nearly thirty years and we think he may be somebody quite high profile.’

Bella walked back into the room with a sarong wrapped around her body. ‘Sorry about the lack of proper clothes, Sam, but this heat is almost unbearable.’

‘Make the most of it while you can.’ Andy laughed. ‘You were complaining about the rain last week.’

‘So I was. And I wasn’t complaining about this weather, not really. Long may it last!’

Sam woke up late, in her small bed in the halls of residence, feeling quite happy, as she’d had a lovely dream, which involved Bella and Andy being her parents, and Dan from the band telling her she was the most gorgeous girl he’d ever met. Then she remembered the Mark situation and started crying.

Masochistically, she reached out for her phone and looked at the pictures of Karolina Kristova. They hardened her resolve. No. She wouldn’t allow him to do this to her.

‘Fucking wanker!’ she shouted at the bare walls. But, with her in-built pedantry, she realized that ‘wanker’ wasn’t quite the right description. ‘Fucker’ would have been more accurate. She laughed briefly to herself, glad that her own mind kept her entertained, at least.

She squinted to see the time on her phone – it had been a late night, and they’d all got quite drunk. Bella had offered her cushions on the floor for the night, but Sam had said thanks but no thanks, not wanting to encroach on their hospitality any more. Bloody hell, it was 12.30. Hardworking Sam never normally rose later than eight, even as a student.