Because there definitely had been a few times when Leonard seemed a little vague or absent since we’d left Penzance. More than the usual, I mean. Then there was that weird moody thing in Swansea, the near miss with the delivery van, the evasiveness about getting lost in Bournemouth when he went to find the Chinese tea. And now, disappearing like this.

Now that I thought about it, maybe there really had been something just a little too keen about how quickly Leonard had decided to join us on the trip. Because if the pennies had dropped into their correct slots, the date on the note and the evidence presented suggested that at this very moment he might actually be supposed to be safely and securely tucked up in the Wheeler Center with his medications and personal possessions. Had Norman and I just been a lucky coincidence that happened along in the nick of time to aid and abet him in absconding? Were Iris and the police at this very moment monitoring APBs and scouring the county looking for him?

All of a sudden, it felt to me like Leonard’s disappearance was shaping up to be a whole lot more serious than we’d thought. Because what if the poor guy had just planned to go out for a walk and then had some kind of funny turn? What if he was out there now on the mean streets of Edinburgh without a clue as to where, or possibly even who, he was? My stomach began tying itself to a couple of vital organs and tightening the knots.

“Norman, we need to find Leonard. And fast.”

Of course, finding someone fast is all relative to your plan of action, so if you don’t have one, well, then, you can’t expect too much. When ten o’clock came and Norman was still running to the window every two minutes to report back, “Nope, nothing,” I finally decided more proactive measures were needed.

My big, bold plan was for us to tackle a search of the immediate neighborhood around the Soft Fudge. Even at that hour, though, there were way too many people out and about for my liking, and I felt the need to hold on to Norman’s arm as tightly as I dared without hurting his skin. As we walked up and down the streets of Leith, we saw plenty of little old men limping along with their poodles, or papers or pints of milk under their arm, but none of them was our little old man.

I was relieved when, after the agreed half hour we’d allotted ourselves, it was time to retrace our steps back to the Soft Fudge, with the help of Norman’s Boy Scout map, which he’d been scribbling along the way. Left at Chapel, right at Water, left at the Spar then left again. It’s a good thing one of us was sensible. We stopped at a little grocery shop to buy tea bags, a carton of milk, some apples and a deadweight of crisps and chocolate, so at least that was one problem solved. I couldn’t do much right, but I could make tea and feed my son junk food.