If you meet me, have some sympathy 18

I could feel Theresa’s eyes on me as I stepped down into her home page, ducking under a low lintel and closing the door carefully behind us. I tried to keep my gaze averted but there wasn’t much space in there.

‘Look – it’s good cover,’ she said, a little too defensively.

I nodded slowly. I’d never seen so much fluff and fur, so many airbrushed doe-eyed images – puppies, kittens, meerkats, the works. The pink walls were festooned with them and the place smelled powerfully of expensive soap.

She was right, of course – it certainly was an effective cover; no visitor could possibly suspect anything. Perhaps it was just my lack of imagination – it was just a little unnerving how much enthusiasm she’d put into it.

‘Come on,’ she said briskly. ‘We haven’t time. The link’s through here.’

The theme of the adjoining room was ponies. She’d clearly accumulated a large following, judging from her overflowing message board, but this was swiftly pulled aside to reveal the link to the social network.

She began explaining the risks and all the network’s defences against intrusion, but I’d already dived into the dark tunnel. Perhaps it was rude but everyone has their limits.