That is, in basic layout only. I tried my utmost to keep my face pleasantly neutral, but it was not easy. Leanne and Joan were living in a giant bin. A ratty sofa covered with a musty blanket and two battered end tables were the only furniture, apart from an old wine crate acting as a television stand. Every available surface, including the windowsill and empty fireplace, were crammed with dirty pots, empty cartons and other mess. The room stank of stale food, unwashed bodies and worse. The floor was covered in mismatched pieces of lino that looked as though they’d never seen a mop. The walls were a dank beige lined with boxes and plastic bags bursting with clutter.

It was without doubt the most depressing room I’d ever set foot in. Leanne nodded to one end of the sofa, perching herself on the other. I took a swift visual sweep of the rubbish as I sat down, but spotted nothing concerning. Having said that, I had been left waiting on the doorstep for a good five minutes. Plenty of time to hide any bottles or other incriminating evidence. Leanne picked at a nail, leaving me to resume the conversation.

‘She’s probably told you that I’ve been taking care of the dog she found.’

Leanne gave me a sharp glance. ‘That’s your decision. I ain’t paying for it.’

‘No! It’s not that. But Joan – Diamanté Butterfly—’

‘You can call her Joan,’ Leanne muttered. ‘I’ve given up arguing with her. Might as well fight a brick wall.’

‘Right. Well, she considers Nesbit to be partly hers, which is fine, so she’s been spending a lot of time with him in the garden after school, and on Saturday. Only, this week, while the weather’s been so bad, she’s come to see him in my house every day.’

Leanne stood up. ‘I’ll tell her to stop bothering you. She gets bored when it’s too wet to get outside. But there’s not a lot I can do about it. Not unless old Ebenezer decides to plant a money tree.’