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I forgive him for the flight because I had no idea he was afraid of flying. Who’d have thought? A guy who takes so many flights, drinking the hospitality trolley dry and wearing dark glasses so no one could see him (I presume) wide-eyed with panic.

But when we land in Frankfurt, pass through security, collect luggage and then load Freddy’s two absurdly large Louis Vuitton suitcases into a taxi, he is still oddly, awkwardly silent.

Then we arrive at the hotel.

We are both forced to speak then because someone messed up the room booking.

‘Ms Friedman and I are in thesamesuite?’ Freddy bellows, looking paler than I’ve ever seen him. ‘What immeasurable fuck up let that happen?’

‘I believe his name is Tim McDonald, sir.’ The acid-blonde German receptionist gives Freddy a cold smile. ‘Your assistant.’

‘That can’t be right.’ Freddy gives a brusque shake of his head. ‘Tim never makes mistakes. He was in the SAS. He believes mistakes can kill people –’

‘Well, I don’t think anyone will die today, sir.’ The receptionist gives me a knowing ‘this guy is an idiot’ smile. ‘You and Ms Friedman are not booked into the sameroom. Just the same suite. There are three separate bedrooms in the suite. You have a room each and one to spare.’

‘But it’s the sameliving space.’ Freddy paces the marble floor. ‘Same sofa. Same front door. It’s not proper. This lady is engaged to be married. Had you not noticed her hideous engagement ring?’

The receptionist notices my ring then, eyes widening.

‘It’s notthathideous.’ I cross my arms to hide my hands. ‘And Freddy, you’re being ridiculous. Ahmet will understand about sharing a suite. Three bedrooms is plenty of space. One for each of us and one for your luggage.’ I motion to Freddy’s tower of bags.

‘Haven’t you got another room?’ Freddy asks the receptionist. ‘I’ll even take a …’ he swallows thickly, ‘standarddouble.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The receptionist doesn’t look sorry. ‘There is nothing else. The hotel is full for the Frankfurt Book Fair. Now, wehaveprovided all the things requested for Ms Friedman. A lift with disabled access. Bathroom with walk-in bath. Gluten-free, dairy-free macrobiotic snacks. Chilled vitamins in the minibar. All these things have been taken care of.’

I turn to Freddy. ‘Vitamins in my mini-bar? That’s worth putting up with your snoring for.’

‘Oh jeez.’ Freddy looks imploringly at the receptionist. ‘You have to help us.Please. She can’t hear my snoring.’

‘All men snore, Freddy. I think I can manage.’ I raise an eyebrow at the receptionist, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘Two keys, please. And maybe a few sets of earplugs. I snore too.’

The hotel suite is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A luxurious living area with a fruit platter on the coffee table. Doors leading to three bedrooms and a living area on two levels: bar area up high, lounge area low.

‘Wow, Freddy.’ I roll my small, single suitcase onto plush, burgundy carpet. ‘You were planning on staying in this suite all by yourself?’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ Freddy wheels his bags into the living area. ‘I’m a consumeristic arsehole, ruining the planet with my expensive choices. But at least I love myself enough to want the best –’

‘Who gets which bedroom?’

‘You have the master bedroom.’ Freddy rubs his eyes. ‘Look, I’m meeting people this afternoon, so I should head straight out. I probably won’t see you until later, if at all –’

‘No way.’ I grab his arm. ‘I need your advice about the Penguin Random House meeting. You need to unpack, which could take hours. And then we’ll have a nice room-service dinner in that dining area over there, and you can tell me what in God’s name is wrong with you. Okay?’

‘I don’t think –’

‘You don’t need to think. I’m doing your thinking for you. I even know what you’ll order.’ I grab a menu and open it. ‘It’ll be the most expensive thing on the menu. The rib eye steak.’

‘Look, maybe you should call Ahmet,’ says Freddy. ‘Ask him to fly out and keep you company. He is your fiancé, after all.’

‘I’d rather spend time with you.’ The words jump out before I can stop them.

Freddy stares at me for a long, awkward moment. Then he says, ‘Look, I do need to go out and stretch my legs. The concierge will handle my unpacking. Call me if you need anything. Hot water bottles. Medicine. Anything at all. Okay? But don’t wait up. I’ll be back late.’

CHAPTER54

Freddy strides into Frankfurt’s infamous Hunky Dory cocktail bar with a purpose. To get so drunk he can float above reality, rather than painfully engage with it. He grabs a seat, deciding not to bother with the piecemeal German he learnt while dating supermodel, Heidi Klum.

‘Hello, my good sir.’ Freddy waves at the distinctively dressed bartender, who wears denim jeans, a denim shirt and a studded denim jacket. ‘I’ll go for any cocktail you have with tequila in it.’