“They’re all full of terrible, terrible chemicals, Sadie.” Leonard clicked his tongue and tut-tutted as he read the back of a tube. “How on earth can doctors and scientists think that putting all that awful stuff on poor little human skin could possibly be good for it?”

I’d been asking myself the same question for most of Norman’s life but, to me, the risk of not trying whatever new miracle cream came on the market far outweighed any other hazards.

“I’m sure you...well, please forgive me for asking if it’s not appropriate, but have you ever considered alternative medicine for Norman’s skin?”

Over the past ten years we’d tried many kinds of alternative treatments, and even a few alternatives to the alternatives. I closed my eyes and tried to remember even one of them that had made the smallest bit of difference. It was an infinite array and I must have zoned out for longer than I’d thought.

“Sorry, sorry, of course you have. I didn’t mean to suggest...” Leonard looked mortified that he might have offended me. “The thing is, I went on a lovely little one-day course over in St. Ives last October. It was... Well. I can’t quite remember what it was called, but this wonderful Chinese chappie showed us the different uses for herbs and flowers and the like for...for improving the memory and...and other sorts of common ailments. And...well, I don’t specifically remember anything for skin conditions like Norman’s, but... I wonder if maybe...”

He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and began tapping away and, after a bit of scrolling up and down, he clicked a few buttons and I saw a Google map flash up on the screen.

“Ah yes. Here we are. Perhaps I’ll go for a walk. Would...is it all right with you if I talk to a Chinese herbalist about Norman’s, er...predicament?”

While my enthusiasm for new suggestions in terms of a cure for Norman’s skin had long ago waned, at this point we really didn’t have anything to lose. So, after apologetically taking a few close-up pictures on his phone of Norman’s face, arms, legs and torso, Leonard set off to see a man about a boy.

I sat in the armchair watching Norman’s chest rise and fall in a fitful sleep and I must have dozed off myself, because I woke with a start and realized nearly two hours had passed. Norman was still asleep in the exact same position he had lain down in and there was no sign of Leonard. Or his alternative Chinese medicine.

After another half hour passed and he still hadn’t returned, I went down the hallway to check his room, just in case he’d come back and decided to take a little nap himself. But after several loud knocks I had to concede he wasn’t there and I returned to my armchair vigil, now with two things to keep me occupied.

Worrying about Norman was one thing, but Leonard was a grown man with a Google map, I reasoned, and he’d found his way around the jungles of Borneo, for heaven’s sake. But I still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that maybe he wasn’t quite as on the ball as he’d always seemed. And the vision of that vague, faraway look I’d seen on his face more than once kept showing up in my head.