“No, thank you.” I hover in the doorway as a thought hits me. If Angharad was able to let herself in because the door was on the latch, then anyone could have come in. Someone else could have slipped into my kitchen before her and …

All the hairs on my arms prick up and I shiver.

“Everything okay?” Angharad asks. “You’ve gone awfully pale.”

“I’m fine.” I rub my hands over my forearms. “I just had one of those moments.”

“Like when someone walks over your grave? I have those all the time.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of scrubbing, hosing, feeding, walking and inoculating. I’m so tired that everything takes twice as long as it should, and when I nearly gave Murphy a booster shot instead of Chester, Angharad insisted I sit down and rest for five minutes while she made me a cup of tea. I was expecting her to leave at lunchtime, but forgot I’d agreed for her to sit in on a potential adopter interview today.

Now we’re both sitting at a table in the small interview room in the main building. Angharad’s beside me, with Mr Archer opposite, bent over the form he was given in reception, scribbling intently. He’s a hulking giant of a man, mid-thirties, with close-set eyes and doughy cheeks.

“Here you go.” He pushes the form across the table towards me then sits back in his chair and folds his arms across his broad chest.

“Thank you.” I scan the form and smile brightly at him. “So, Mr Archer.”

“You can call me Rob.” He’s got a broad London accent. You don’t hear many of those round here. It reminds me of Al.

“Okay. Rob. Could you tell me why you’d like to adopt a dog?”

“I’m unemployed and I need the company. And I like dogs. I’ve always liked dogs. And I’d rather rescue one, help it out, you know, rather than get a puppy.” The words come out machine-gun fast.

“Right. Great.” I flip over the form and note down his answer on the back. “So you’d be able to spend a lot of time with the dog.”

“Yeah.”

“Would there be any periods when you’d have to leave the dog on its own?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Well, when I go to the Job Centre, but I don’t go there often.” He laughs dryly and runs a hand over his forehead. It’s warm in the room and he’s sweating lightly.

“Okay, that’s good. We don’t like dogs to be left on their own for too long. Some of them have abandonment issues.”

“Right. Right.”

“Where do you live, Rob? House? Flat? Is there a garden?”

“Nah. I’m in a block, but there’s a park nearby. I could walk the dog there.”