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‘Ah,’ said Claire. ‘Well, good luck getting it finished.’

Forcing myself not to give Theo a longing look as I passed him and keeping my eyes straight ahead, I went inside the hotel and made my way through the reception area and up the stairs. I was nearly at the top when I became aware of Theo thundering up behind me.

‘Hey,’ he said, leaning against the wall, catching his breath.

‘Hi,’ I said. Had he just chased after me?

‘Just wondered if you fancied another late-night writing session? I don’t know about you, but I’ve got some editing to do and I seem to find it easier when I’m working alongside you.’

He’d meant it, then, when he’d told me he was enjoying writing together again. And I was, too, it was just that every time I glanced up from my screen and he was right there looking all earnest, concentrating on the next beat of his story, it would throw me for a minute or two. I repeatedly found myself mesmerised by his sculpted arms and the fact he was always so engaged in whatever I was saying and his semi-surprised expression as he plucked brilliant book ideas out of thin air.

‘Think I’m too tired to write, actually,’ I said, which wasn’t a lie. ‘And I’m pretty happy with my chapters. As happy as I can be, anyway.’

He smiled. ‘All that writing through the night has paid off.’

‘I know how to get those extra hours in.’

He hung his head, looking at the floor, then looked up to meet my eye, nodding towards his door. ‘How about a nightcap then? Just a quick one. I could do with running an idea for our mid-point twist past you.’

‘Who, me? Queen of plotting? Why, of course,’ I said, making a joke, but also feeling giddy with anticipation. I’d imagined him in his room so many times and now I was going to see it for myself. I followed him inside. It was small and sparse and nothing like mine, and I felt a pang of guilt, but also relief. Instead of a lilac colour scheme, his was burgundy and grey, and instead of a king-sized double, there were two narrow single beds housing the flattest mattresses I’d ever seen in my life. And whereas my suitcase was still lying on the floor only half unpacked, or else shoved out of sight under the bed, his room was neat and tidy, with everything put away in its proper place. Jake Thorn’s latest book was open on his bedside table, alongside his wallet and keys. I glanced into his bathroom, where manly, expensive products were symmetrically lined up next to the basin.‘Wine OK?’ he asked, going over to the desk, where a bottle of red was already open.

‘Sure.’

I watched as he poured us each a glass.

‘Shall we sit out on the balcony?’

I nodded, stepping through the French doors behind him.

I sat down first, wrapping my cardigan tightly around myself, chilly now I was up higher and more exposed.

‘Shall I get you a blanket?’ asked Theo, concerned.

I shook my head. ‘I’m fine. So what’s this twist, then?’

He sat down next to me, leaning back in his chair and propping his left foot up on his right knee.

‘So the wife, Caroline . . . what if she has a problem with alcohol? You know how judgemental people can be around addiction. How suddenly she’s not just the wife of the missing man, she’s the potentially drunk wife of the missing man.’

I thought it through. ‘I like it. As long as we tackle her mental health with integrity, then I think it’s a brilliant idea. We want our readers to think they’ve worked it all out, don’t we, and then we’ll roll out the big guns? Make our narrator unreliable so they don’t know who to believe.’

Theo held his hand out for a high-five. I laughed, tapping my palm lightly against his.

‘What’s that for?’ I asked.

‘We have our killer twist. Deserves a celebration, don’t you think?’

‘Yourkiller twist,’ I said.

‘Scarlett,’ he said, reaching out to touch my arm. My heart instantly skipped a beat and I really wished he’d stop touching me, innocently or not. ‘You do know we’re in this together, don’t you? That as far as I’m concerned, I could not have done any of this without you. Why do you think Iasked you if you wanted to write a novel with me all those years ago?’

I laughed lightly. ‘I know why. Because we were the only two who wanted to write a thriller.’

‘We weren’t,’ he insisted. ‘There were a few of us. I wanted to team up with you because I’d admired your work from the beginning. You were by far the strongest writer in the class and I felt nervous about asking you because I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes to co-writing with someone else, let alone me.’

Surprised, I looked down at the gardens and the pool, quiet now except for the faint hum of conversation and laughter from the courtyard, where our fellow retreaters must still be enjoying themselves and trying to keep quiet about what their spouses had been saying about them in the anti-speed-dating task. Perhaps it would have been safer to stay down there, surrounded by all of them, instead of thinking it was a good idea to sit up here alone with Theo and his unexpectedly sweet revelations.

‘Thanks for saying that,’ I said. ‘And ditto. Obviously.’