His flat seems quite large, lots of doors going off the corridor. It smells brand-new, clinical. He leads me into the lounge.

‘Drink?’

‘I need the loo, actually.’

‘Third door to your right.’

I pass the kitchenette. It’s full of stuff you’d expect to find in a lab. Bizarre.

I open a door. I must have counted wrong. I find myself in a ballroom full of life-sized mannequins, all with their arms open in welcome. Only they’re not mannequins. I stifle a scream. He mustn’t know I found his sick taxidermy project.

‘Aren’t they beautiful? You’ll fit right in.’