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‘Hi, guys,’ said Melissa, looking a little wearier than usual, but still about ten times more chilled than I could ever hope to appear after a row like that. ‘Let’s get walking. And talking!’

The three of us began winding our way up a narrow, pedestrianised street flanked by cute little shops selling jams and herbes de Provence and white cheesecloth dresses. Restaurant tables spilled out onto the cobbles, and disco bars that looked as though they might properly get going in high-summer showed little sign of life, although it was only late-afternoon.

‘Thank you for joining me, guys,’ said Melissa, wafting ahead in her psychedelic-print maxi dress and the requisite straw hat. I felt decidedly ordinary in comparison in my denim cut offs and a white vest. I did have the hat, though, purchased on a whim on the walk here. Theo had found it hilarious and I’d offered to buy him one, too, and when he’d refused, I’d joked that he hadn’t wanted to mess up his near-perfect hair.

‘It should be . . . interesting?’ I said, struggling for something more positive to say.

Theo looked even less enthusiastic. I’d got into the swing of this therapy thing now, but I could see Theo was still finding it a grind, although judging by this morning, itwas having more of an effect on him than he’d realised. I wondered if he was worried what would come up now that it was just the three of us and he couldn’t use his reluctance to share in front of the group as an excuse for staying silent.

Melissa eyed us with suspicion as we turned to walk up a flight of red-bricked steps nestling between buildings. It was dark and shady in the shadows, and the staircase curved up and round a steep hill, past people’s front doors and windows, some of them thrown open to let in the cooler air. They mostly had shutters painted in shades of lime, sage, olive and emerald. Some windows were flanked by gingham curtains, red-and-white, like a tablecloth. Others had plant pots of colourful flowers outside their doors, or window boxes bursting with tropical plants – mini palm trees, cacti and bushes sprouting tiny buttercup yellow flowers.

‘Something has changed between the two of you,’ Melissa quite rightly observed.

The memory of the kiss came flooding back. His lips, his tongue, the way he’d pinned me against the balcony wall and I had wanted to give everything of myself to him. I hung back a few steps to compose myself. It had been . . . spectacular.

‘Is there anything you’d like to talk about?’ enquired Melissa.

‘Don’t think so,’ said Theo breezily.

‘Maybe?’ I said, countering him. He looked at me, surprised. As he would be when I’d been so reluctant to face the truth at breakfast.

It was just that we were here in beautiful Cannes with a world-class psychotherapist giving us her undivided attention. It would be an opportunity missed, surely, if I didn’t try to push myself out of my comfort zone. And not talking about it didn’t work last time, did it? Perhaps opening up toMelissa would ease any uncertainty between us and allow us to keep working together as the friends I wanted us to be. I didn’t think suppressed passion was a good idea, not with us, anyway. It tended to consume my every thought, whereas my thoughts needed to be elsewhere, on the book we were writing. And on my dad, who was begging me to come home soon, and on Alexa, who had had another panic attack and who had called me in the middle of the night so that I could help calm her down. These were the things that mattered, not residual feelings I held for a man who hadn’t wanted me then and presumably didn’t really want me now, either. He’d said it himself, he was probably incapable of having romantic relationships, and I in turn seemed to be incapable of keeping it casual, at least where he was concerned.

‘Scarlett, can you elaborate?’ asked Melissa.

We turned another corner where the steps widened out. At the top of the hill, I could see an ancient clock tower and the tops of giant fir trees.

I glanced at Theo, steeling myself. ‘We kissed,’ I said. ‘Last night.’

Melissa let this hang in the air. Theo frowned, no doubt wondering why I was telling Melissa this when hours ago I’d agreed that it wasn’t worth talking about.

‘Theo, how does it feel to hear Scarlett say that?’

‘Surprising,’ he said, a little stiffly. ‘It happened. But we’ve both agreed that it shouldn’t happen again.’

‘I see. And is that what you want?’ she asked me, as we reached the stone archway of the clock tower. We followed Melissa through it, arriving in a serene courtyard. In one corner was the Musée des Explorations du Monde, which I’d read about and wished I had time to visit. But the writing was becoming all-consuming and we only had a few days left in Cannes, which was now spread out below us, all palebiscuit buildings with orange terracotta roofs, reminding me of my favourite French dessert: crème brûlée. To the right was the harbour, and the start of La Croisette, and the glittering dark, blue waters of the Med, curving into the distance, round to Antibes and beyond, to Nice.

‘It feels really difficult to talk about,’ I admitted, following Melissa over to a set of benches looking out over the Vieux-Port. To distract myself, I counted the boats – five rows of small vessels and then the giant mega-yachts in a row behind.

‘Can you articulate why that is?’ asked Melissa. ‘Why you’re holding back from telling Theo how you feel?’

God, we were really getting to this. The dangerous territory we’d done so well to avoid thus far was about to hit us head on and I didn’t think I could stop it even if I wanted to.

‘I guess it stems from the beginning,’ I said tentatively.

‘Can you tell me about it?’ asked Melissa in such a soothing voice that I knew it was all about to come spilling out. It felt like the perfect place to reach into the depths of my memory, several hundred metres above Cannes, a calming sea view laid out in front of us.

‘When we met on the writing course we did together, I was all smug at first, because although I found him attractive, I was able to kind of ignore that and focus on our friendship instead. And on our writing.’ I said.

Theo shifted uncomfortably next to me. I made a concerted effort not to worry about whether I was saying something out of line. This was my therapy session, too, and I was only revealing all of this to Melissa because I thought it might be better for us in the long run.

‘What made you scared of entering into something more with him?’ asked Melissa.

‘Feel free to interrupt me, if I get any of the details wrong,or whatever,’ I said to Theo, making eye contact, just for a beat.

‘Will do,’ he said, although his voice sounded strained. As usual, I had no idea what he was thinking.

‘So we we’d more or less finished work on our novel –Little Boy Lost. We’d secured ourselves a literary agent and a publishing deal, and it suddenly felt as though things were happening at breakneck speed. I’d given up my day job, so the stakes felt high.’