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I jotted some notes down on my pad, lines of dialogue I’d particularly liked, and plot points I thought were spot on. Our main characters needed some developing, in my opinion, and that’s what I liked best about writing, fleshing them out to make them three-dimensional and (always) flawed. Perhaps this was an area I could excel in, a place where I could actually give Theo some helpful feedback in the same way that he was clearly going to have to give me some on plotting and pace. Sometimes I wondered whether I was even cut out to be a thriller writer, although what else would I do? My prose had never been beautiful enough for literary fiction, and pacy psychological thrillers were what I loved to read, and so why wouldn’t I want to write them?

I checked the time: 7.45 a.m. The calm before the storm. I forced myself out of bed, determined to check out the hotel spa, which Claire had told me was mega relaxing and involved a rooftop hot tub with sea views. And if I got up there early enough, I might have my favourite all to myself: the sauna. Jacuzzis were amazing, but a hot bath with bubbles and one of my aromatherapy oils had almost the same effect. But I could never recreate the dry heat, the sweat, the way my skin glowed with health after twenty minutes in a sauna.

I pinged Alexa a quick message.

How’s your course? Hope things are a bit less stressful?

I saw she was online and waited for her reply.

Never mind that, are you and Theo Winters an actual couple yet?!

I tutted loudly to myself.

That will NEVER happen.

She sent three hearts-in-your eyes emojis in return. I knew she was only winding me up, but still.

After a wasted ten minutes spent looking for my swimsuit, which I was almost sure I’d packed but now couldn’t find anywhere, I had no choice but to put on the black-and-white polka dot string bikini Alexa had forced me to buy when we were out shopping last summer. I’d never had the opportunity to wear it and had stuffed it in my suitcase alongside the much plainer racing green swimsuit I now couldn’t find thinking that maybe – if the South of France happened to have an April heatwave, which didn’t appear to be the case thus far – I’d have an opportunity to wear it. It felt very Hollywood glam, although I would have preferred a slightly more substantial cut. When I looked at myself in the mirror I didn’t hate what I saw, but I also felt very exposed, or at least I thought I would feel that way wearing it in public. But I was only going to the hotel sauna and it was so early I doubted anyone from our party would be up, especially after the myriad bottles of wine we’d polished off between us last night. I grabbed my robe from the back of the bathroom door, slid into my flip-flops and headed up to the spa on the fifth floor.

I thought I’d do the sauna first because afterwards I could shower and jump in the jacuzzi and then I’d slip my robe back on and head back to my room for another shower and to get dressed for breakfast. There wasn’t a soul around, which was good, as it would mean I could completely relax and zone out and try not to think about Theo or Dad or how hot it was in there and how I wasn’t feeling as confident as I’d have liked about the chapters I’d written.

I opened the blackened glass door and was faced with a wall of burning heat that curled straight into my nostrils.And then I spotted Theo, silently sitting on the top tier wearing what I can only describe as a flannel. OK, it was a towel, but it wastiny.Of course it would have to be him. Out of the sixty or so guests staying at the hotel, I had to bump into the one person I really did not want to share a boiling hot wooden cabin with.

‘Morning,’ said Theo, who looked all languid and relaxed like he’d been in there for about an hour and was slightly delirious with heat stroke.

‘Hello,’ I said cautiously, wondering whether it would be rude to back up, close the door again and go out to the hot tub instead.

Deciding it would be, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. The silence engulfed me almost as much as the heat. I tentatively sat as far away from Theo as I could, keeping my robe firmly wrapped around my body.

‘Aren’t you going to be too hot in that dressing gown?’ asked Theo, rather untactfully, I thought. Just because he was happy wearing a postage-stamped size piece of towelling, didn’t mean we all had to be.

‘I’m not staying long,’ I said breezily. ‘I want to check out the jacuzzi.’

‘It’s lovely,’ he said. ‘Beautiful views.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

I tried to relax, sinking my back into the wooden bench behind me which was so hot that I sort of ricocheted straight back off it again. I could see Theo in my peripheral vision, which made him pretty difficult to ignore. I took some deep breaths, letting the hot air fill my lungs. Sweat began to prickle at my brow line.

‘So I read your chapters,’ I said, thinking that if I stayed on topics we were familiar with, all would be well. ‘They’re great. I’ll pop some notes over to you later on today.’

Theo was silent for a few seconds, which was disconcerting. Had I said something wrong?

‘Why not tell me what you thought right now?’ he said.

How strange, I thought, to have a conversation about our mutual book in the hot and the dark and to not be looking at each other. Strange and also quite nice. I felt as though I was in a confessional box and that I could say things I wouldn’t normally say. Which is probably what gave me the confidence to tell him what I really thought.

‘I loved the set-up in chapter one,’ I said. ‘You’re raising questions immediately about who these people are and what’s gone wrong. Scene-setting is good, although I think we can probably add some more description once we’ve spent more time at the beach. Same with my chapters.’

‘I usually add that in later,’ said Theo. ‘But yes, I completely agree.’

‘Character-wise, I think both protagonists need more developing from the off. I don’t really get a sense of their relationship and I think that could make it even more intriguing when things go wrong. The opening pages are prickling with tension, but it would be great to see their differences; how they each respond to their argument.’

‘Hmmmn,’ said Theo. ‘Funny, I really thought I’d nailed the character work this time. But then I go and get the same note I always get.’

I was surprised. ‘You get notes about character?’

‘Every. Single. Time.’