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She listens in silence as I explain how I fell asleep in Nathan’s apartment, my reaction the next morning, and his understanding because of what his sister had been through.

‘So,’ I say eventually, ‘I know this sounds pathetic, but I kind of feel he owes me the same honesty.’

‘OK. We’ll come to that in a moment. First, there are some things we need to unpick.’ The tone of her voice reminds me of one of those cosy crime stories where the triumphant detective gathers all the suspects together at the end to reveal both who the murderer is and, of course, how clever they’ve been to unmask them.

‘Such as?’ I ask warily.

‘The big one is that you felt relaxed enough to fall asleep in the first place. And that you stayed asleep the whole night, when surely some part of your brain would have been firing warning signals that there was a man in the room.’

‘It had been a hell of a week, Trudi. I think I was just exhausted.’

‘I’m sure you were, but that’s not enough to explain it. The fact is that there’s obviously something about this Nathan that makes him different to other men in your eyes.’

‘I think you’re reading more into this than there is. If that were the case, why did I freak out in the morning?’

‘Good question, and I suspect you’re not going to like the answer. What you want me to say is that you freaked because you woke up in the wrong apartment with a strange man and felt threatened by him.’

‘That would seem the most likely explanation, yes.’

‘But I listened carefully, and that’s not what I think happened. I think the real reason you freaked out wasn’t because Nathan was there. It was because you’d done something totally out of character, something that would normally terrify you, and it actually felt OK, deep down. Because you trust him. Because you feel safe around him. That’s huge news if I’m right.’

I sigh. ‘Even if your amateur psychology were true, that trust has a bit of a dent in it right now. I bared my soul and he’s giving me nothing in return.’

‘He didn’t ask you to bare your soul. I know you feel vulnerable but, as you’ve been at pains to point out, this is a friendship, nothing more. He doesn’t have to share just because you did.’

‘So, you’re saying I should pretend I didn’t see the message?’

‘I’m not sure anything good comes from confronting him. Let’s look at what we know. Someone is unnaturally keen to get hold of him, and he’s just as keen not to be contacted. So, whatever this is, it isn’t good. The fact that he’s repeatedly blocking them rather than engaging indicates that he’s hoping this person will eventually get the message and give up. The good news about that is that it makes it much more likely this person is an ex-lover than, for example, someone he owes money to.’

‘Oh, I feel so much better now!’ I tell her sarcastically.

‘Well, an ex-lover only matters if you’re planning to become the new lover, doesn’t she?’ I don’t need to see Trudi’s face to know that she’s smiling. She thinks she’s sprung a perfect trap. Either I have to accept that Nathan’s mystery caller is none of my business, which she knows I can’t do, or I have to admit that I see him as more than a friend. After the way I reacted to him on the boat, I’m not sure I can deny that as convincingly as I’d like. ‘So, are you?’ she presses.

‘No, of course not!’ I try to strike just the right note of disbelief and outrage, but I’m not sure I’ve completely pulled it off. The problem is that Trudi knows me so well that she’ll pick up on any inconsistency. I’m starting to regret calling her.

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? I’d let it go. Think of it from his perspective for a moment. If he’s trying to shut this down by ignoring it, as we suspect, then involving a third party – that’s you, by the way – is only adding fuel to a fire he’s hoping he can extinguish by simply starving it of oxygen.’

‘You’re right,’ I tell her, suddenly weary of this conversation. ‘So, tell me how the wedding planning is coming.’

This proves to be the perfect diversion, and I listen happily for the next half-hour as she fills me in on all her plans. By the time we end the call, I’ve agreed to travel up there the weekend after I get back so I can get my dress fitted. However, it’s not long before my mind drifts back to Nathan and the events of the day and I realise that I’m actually more confused than ever. What on earth am I going to do?

23

‘I was starting to think you weren’t coming,’ Nathan says with a smile as he opens the door. At first glance, he looks absolutely fine, but it doesn’t take me long to spot the tension in his eyes.

‘Sorry. I was on the phone and lost track of time.’ All right, this isn’t completely true, but it’s not an outright lie either.

‘Are you feeling up to a pizza?’ he asks as I follow him into his living area. ‘I’m absolutely starving after the excitement of today, and there’s nothing like a massive carbohydrate overload in circumstances like these.’ He pulls a bottle of white wine out of the fridge, pours a generous amount into a glass standing on the worktop, and hands it to me. As I take a sip, I quickly realise that I’m also starving, having thrown up my breakfast and not eaten any lunch, and I need to get something inside me to soak up this wine, otherwise things will go south rapidly.

‘Pizza sounds perfect,’ I tell him, setting the glass on the table.

As we peruse the menu, agreeing firmly that pineapple has absolutely no place on a pizza, everything feels completely normal, on the surface at least. Nathan seems back to his usual self, getting lost in a story about this amazing pizza he had in Italy once before forgetting what the point was supposed to be. In the end, we order two Neapolitan pizzas, along with garlic bread just to complete the carb overload. As we settle on the sofa to wait, Nathan picks up his phone and launches the photos app.

‘It really was the most amazing day,’ he says as he scrolls through, pausing every so often to show me a picture. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing to come. Not just as my official photographer – I don’t think it would have been half as much fun on my own.’

‘What are friends for?’ I reply with a smile. I’m trying to keep my face neutral but the conversation with Trudi is playing in my head. Are we friends? Do I want it to be more? What would that even look like, and what about the mystery stalker?

‘This is particularly nice,’ he says, snapping me out of my reverie by handing me the phone. On screen is the picture of the two of us standing together on the boat. At first glance, it is a good photo. I’m a little windswept in my T-shirt and bikini bottoms, my face partly obscured by a stray lock of silver hair. Nathan is looking every inch the surf bum with his bare chest and wetsuit around his midriff. His arm is draped loosely around my back with his hand resting lightly above my hip, my own fingers are clearly visible just below his ribcage, and we’re both squinting very slightly against the bright sun. It’s the kind of image that adorns fridge doors everywhere: a happy couple on an incredible long-distance holiday or even their honeymoon.