He snatches the notebook from me and puts it back on the shelf.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he says. I can see his inner child. And it’s a petulant snot-nosed little brat who would have benefitted from some boundaries being laid down in early life. The security guard steps in, his inner child’s the none-too-bright sort who hang around and protect people smarter than themselves. My inner child reckons it’s getting a bit cramped in here.

‘Bit cramped in here,’ I tell them. ‘Let’s move out.’

I step towards Mr Sincere and he decides to retreat, the security guard turning round and moving through to the living room. The second Mr Sincere’s through the doorway, I slam the door shut, lock it, and quickly find the notebook again. There’s a barrage of banging. I toss the notebook out of the window, then unlock the door.

‘Tripped,’ I say by way of explanation. ‘Fell against the door.’

Two pairs of suspicious eyes. I grimace and rub an elbow, just for show.

I’m escorted back to reception by both of them, one either side of me.

‘Did you eat breakfast here?’ I ask.

‘No.’

‘I’ve heard it’s good. Maybe there are some leftovers you could get.’

I feign heading back to the car park, but as soon as I’m out of their view I double round and find the notebook where I threw it. It’s splayed open on the grass, a breeze flicking pages as if it’s being speed-read by an invisible man. I pick it up, skim through until I find the date I’m looking for and start reading.

It starts out with a description of what he had for breakfast, details of a strange-shaped puddle he spotted on the way to work, and various other bits of minutiae that he seemed to think were worth recording. Then, right at the end of the page, I find it. Just two sentences. I read them several times, just to make sure I’m not misinterpreting them.

But unfortunately I’m not. I close the notebook, as if that will make what I’ve just seen disappear.

The dog warden’s van is parked next to the Stang. The man himself is leaning against his vehicle, sucking something strawberry-scented out of a vape pen, and playing a game on his phone. I’ve been trying to get hold of Jansen but his phone’s off. I try one more time as the dog explores the rim of the front tyre with his snout. Still no Jansen. I give the dog warden a short wave, get in and drive away. Then I stop, throw it into reverse and pull up by him.

‘Is that dog really going to be put down?’

‘’Fraid so,’ he says. ‘There are just so damned many of them, and no one wants a dog like this.’