After an excruciating couple of minutes, where the only sound was various people huffing in indignation, Sam and the children returned, Nesbit firmly grasped in Sam’s hands. The collies hadn’t moved since he left the room.

‘Here we go.’ He handed me a very contented-looking dog. ‘I’ll need to change some bedding, but apart from that, no harm done.’

‘No harm done!’ Sam’s dad retorted. ‘That organic chicken cost your mother a fortune. Not to mention I’m bloody hungry. This woman’s ruined Tom’s birthday dinner! I said if we held it here it’d end in disaster! Bloody typical, Sam, well done.’

‘Darling, it’s fine.’ An older woman, who I assumed was his wife, placed a soothing hand on his arm. ‘We can rustle up something else. Look at all these gorgeous side dishes. If the worst comes to the worst, some of us can run to the shops.’

‘Well, it’s not really fine,’ a third man interjected. He looked remarkedly similar to Man Number One, other than the colour of his linen shirt. ‘Who knows which of these bowls that mutt slobbered on. And why should the kids have to wait while someone drives to that poky supermarket in Bigley and picks up whatever they’ve got leftover on a Saturday night? You know I don’t eat meat that’s not high welfare. I’d rather go home and make something myself.’

Joan shrank closer into my side.

‘Um. I have some organic mince I could bring over, if that’s any help?’ I ventured.

‘Um, why are you still here?’ Sam’s dad snapped.

‘Dad,’ Sam said, moving to stand in front of me. ‘Thanks, Ollie, but we’ll sort it. It was stupid of me to leave the food unattended with the doors open. Anything could have snuck in and helped itself.’

‘Too bloody right!’ his dad scoffed.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t be making excuses for her!’ the first man said. ‘You should be able to leave your kitchen for five minutes without risk of a mongrel stealing your meal.’

‘Nesbit’s not a mongrel, he’s a cocker spaniel!’ Joan blurted.

‘It’s unfathomable why people who can’t control their dogs don’t keep them on a lead,’ one of the other women added, ignoring Joan. ‘If he’d got in with the livestock, we’re legally entitled to have shot him.’

‘If there’s an animal trespassing in your home, I’m pretty sure you’re entitled to shoot them.’

‘Perhaps we could have roast dog to replace the chicken,’ an older teenager droned, not bothering to look up from her phone.

It was definitely time to leave.