She should have kept a better eye on her brother, she’d said. The way she normally does. At least . . . most of the time. Martin could sort his own food out for a few days at a time, so long as she made sure he had everything he needed.

‘He has, like, his own little flat with a kitchen and everything. It’s important to let him have his independence, but I still usually check in at least once or twice a day, to make sure he’s eating. And that he doesn’t disappear. He does wander off sometimes, but he’s usually back within a few hours.’

Hellen would probably have noticed that Martin wasn’t home, watching TV as usual. If she had been home herself, that is. If she hadn’t let a friend talk her into going on a short trip to Denmark. Two free tickets with an overnight stay and everything.

‘Just thirty-six hours,’ her friend had wheedled. ‘He’ll be fine on his own and you really need to get away for a bit.’

And she really had needed it.

‘I’d just got home when you called,’ she’d said with her arm around her brother’s shoulders and a tissue clutched in her other hand. ‘My God, anything could have happened.’

Gently, and with his sister’s help, they’d been able to coax Martin into telling them his side of the story. He’d taken the moped out even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. He didn’t know what time it had been, but that it was almost light out, so definitely in the morning, he figured. And he’d been hungry when he woke up. He’d gone all the way to the corner shop on Dragegate to buy four rolls and two bottles of Kokko chocolate milk for breakfast. He’d packed it all in a plastic carrier bag that he’d hung on the handlebars.

‘He loves Kokko,’ Hellen Talliksen had added. ‘And dogs. He’s always nagging me about getting one.’

Karen and Karl had exchanged a look of dejected understanding when they realised what must have happened next.

As suspected, Martin Talliksen had been unable to wait until he got home, so he had opened one of the bottles straight away. And he had spotted Filippa and the puppy as they turned the corner, coming back from their walk. He’d sat on his moped on the other side of the street, drinking his chocolate milk, watching the puppy, who wanted to play rather than go back inside. Then he had noticed that the lead was tangled in the bushes, that the lady couldn’t get it loose. He had wanted to help.

And of course, he had dropped his bottle of chocolate milk when things started to go awry.