‘The police will do it. I gave them his name,’ says Lorna. She gets up and gathers the mugs from the coffee table, carrying them into the kitchen.

The back door, which Lorna had managed to close by wedging a newspaper underneath it, is suddenly thrown open, letting in a gust of wind and rain. Saffy squeals in fright and Lorna springs away from the sink to stand in front of her daughter, ready to defend her against any intruder, but it’s Tom. It’s just Tom. His hair has darkened in the rain and it lies flat against his head. He has Snowy on a lead. Lorna puts her hand to her racing heart and takes a deep breath.

Saffy rushes into his arms. ‘Thank God! I was getting so worried.’ Then she bends down to kiss Snowy’s wet head. ‘Oh, my boy, my lovely little man.’ Lorna can’t help but wince: she can smell the dog from where she’s standing.

‘Found him sniffing around the woods. He seems fine. Totally unhurt,’ says Tom, unclipping his lead. Then he pushes the back door against the wind, cramming a chair up against it to stop it flying open. ‘This will have to do for now.’ He reaches for the lock on the worktop. ‘But I’m going to have to reattach this. I’ve got some screws in my toolbox.’ He strides out of the room, holding the lock.

Saffy grabs a holey old towel from a peg and uses it to wipe Snowy’s paws. He has mud splattered up his legs but he licks Saffy’s face affectionately, happy to be home.

Tom strides back in with his toolbox. ‘I’ll get on with this,’ he says, taking out his electric drill.

‘We’ll have Brenda over in a minute to complain about the noise,’ says Saffy.

‘If she turns up, I’ll give her a piece of my mind,’ says Lorna.

‘What if he comes back and kicks it in again?’ Saffy asks. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, knowing someone’s been here, rifling through our things. I feel so . . . violated.’

‘I doubt he’ll be back tonight,’ says Tom, a screw between his teeth.

‘That’s right.’ Lorna hopes she sounds more confident than she feels. ‘Come on, honey, you need to get some sleep. We’ll sort everything out in the morning.’

Saffy nods, carrying Snowy upstairs with her. Lorna stands in the kitchen watching Tom as he replaces the lock, a knot of worry in her stomach. When he’s finished he yawns. ‘God, I’m exhausted.’

She tells him to go on up, saying she’ll turn the downstairs lights out. She watches him go, then makes herself a decaf tea. She sits on the uncomfortable sofa in the living room in the half-dark, surrounded by mess.