‘Do you have that piece of paper?’ Cathy says to Joe.

‘The incorrect PIN?’

‘No,’ Cathy says, her voice just slightly sharper than usual, the only variance Joe has been able to spot since he told her about his botched cashpoint attempt. ‘That piece of paper, remember, the thing from his pocket with the – with the blood on it.’

‘Oh,’ Joe says. ‘Sorry. Sorry, my brain doesn’t work as fast as yours.’

‘Nobody’s does,’ Frannie says. ‘Cathy is the hare and we are the tortoises.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ Cathy says.

‘A beautiful hare,’ she says to Cathy. ‘And a handsome tortoise,’ to Joe, which makes him smile.

‘Can tortoises be –’

‘The paper?’ Cathy says.

‘Yes. Sorry.’ He unlocks the bathroom as quietly as he can and creeps down the stone hallway to his bedroom, sliding the wallet and the piece of paper out of the pocket in the lining of his suitcase.

Back in the bathroom, he passes it to Cathy. She sits down next to Frannie – who is, typically, being of no assistance – and spreads it on the step between them, looking at it. Their tanned legs stretch out in front of them. They’re both in denim shorts, Frannie in a halter neck that exposes too many ribs, Cathy in a pale denim shirt that shows off her tanned arms.

‘Let’s just google it,’ Frannie says.

‘We can’t translate it online, remember?’ Joe snaps. ‘In case … in case anyone ever looks.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Frannie says. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’

‘Again.’

‘Look – I’m trying, okay? I’m sorry.’ She starts fiddling with her phone.

‘I hope you haven’t told the cavalry,’ Joe says, which is how he refers to her many friends and acquaintances. Frannie is the only thirty-something he knows who has a TikTok account.

‘Of course I haven’t,’ she says, hurt.

‘Ignore him,’ Cathy says kindly. ‘Look. This doesn’t mean we can’t decipher it in some way. He was a police officer. You know?’

Joe stares at her, waiting.

‘We have new information,’ she says patiently. Joe feels a sting of shame that she is always three steps ahead of him.

‘He must have been off-duty in the market,’ Frannie says. She pulls the cap off the bath oil again and Cathy takes it from her. ‘What?’ she says.

‘Stop messing with stuff. Everything. Your phone goes off all the time.’ As if on cue, it makes a noise, and Frannie looks at it, her cheeks red.

‘It’s Mum,’ she says. ‘In the group WhatsApp.’ Joe pulls out his phone and looks at it.

Have you seen about the missing man near you? she’s written. They stare at each other, saying nothing.

‘If only she knew,’ Frannie says softly.

‘I know,’ Cathy says.

Joe puts away his phone, ignoring his worrying mother, and looks at the piece of paper. It’s illegible. Even if it were in English, he wouldn’t be able to make out much of it. It is in four pieces, torn and soft around the edges, like a used tissue. Already the blood dashed across it has faded from red to dark brown, disturbing inkblots patterned across whatever the document once was.