As I crawled in, he backed out, dragging the poor chicken with him. After a couple of feet, the leg he was holding broke off from the rest of the bird, and he turned and fled.

Further into the house.

The man yelled, ‘What the hell?’ and was calling for back-up before I could think about extricating myself from underneath the table.

‘Some woman’s dog just ran upstairs with our dinner!’ the man barked.

‘What?’ There was a chorus of exclamations and animated questions. I contemplating remaining underneath the table until everyone had gone away, but then one of the collies wandered over and gave a soft growl.

There was nothing else for it. I scrambled through to the other side and straightened up, clutching the remains of the chicken. Here I came face to face with a gaggle of adults and children staring at me from the kitchen doorway. I was even more embarrassed to see that one of them was Sam.

‘I’m so sorry!’ I managed to squeak. ‘I’ve only had him since yesterday. My eleven-year-old neighbour found him in a plastic bag in the forest and I said I’d look after him for her.’

An older man in a suit glared at Sam. ‘What the hell is she doing in your house?’

‘Um… perhaps it’s best if I get him back, and then I can explain…’ I waved in the general direction of the doorway.

They looked at me, a mixture of confused alarm, outrage and one or two secretive smirks.

‘Where is he?’ Sam asked, face serious but thankfully not angry.

‘He’s… gone through there.’ I winced. ‘I think I heard him go upstairs.’

At least three of the children instantly pushed through the adults to find him, Sam straight on their heels. I took a couple of tentative steps to follow them, but the man who’d initially found me in the kitchen moved to block my way. ‘I don’t think so!’ He looked me up and down. ‘You can wait here.’

I glanced at my dishevelled jeans and top, covered in smears of dirt and bits of undergrowth. Reaching up to my hair, a tentative hand came away clutching a handful of twigs and a dead spider. I was sweaty from the chase, and burning with shame. When Joan appeared a moment later, her T-shirt sporting a giant rip, mud encrusting one cheek and wearing only one trainer, I didn’t suppose it helped my credibility.

‘Hey,’ I whispered, holding out a hand. She crept in and took it, eyes round with questions.

‘He ran upstairs, so some of the people here have gone to fetch him,’ I murmured. ‘It’s okay, one of them is Sam, who helped me move the bed.’

She nodded, face pinched with worry.