“Great.” I smile reassuringly and write on the form again. He’s surprisingly nervous for such a big man, but a lot of people find this situation uncomfortable; it’s called an interview for a reason, and no one wants to be rejected. “Have you got any experience of looking after a dog?”

“Um …” He gazes at the table and tweaks his left ear. “Yeah. I had a dog as a child, a Staffie called Alfie. Have you got any of those?”

I don’t know if it’s the way his eyes just shifted from right to left, or the fact that he’s been repeatedly tapping the floor with his right foot since he said the word “Staffie”, but an alarm just chimed in my head.

“Is it only a Staffie you’re after?”

“Yeah.” He nods repeatedly and runs a hand over his thinning hair.

“And if I told you we don’t have any?”

The table judders up and down as his tapping increases. “I heard you had some.”

“We’ve got—” Angharad pipes up, but I silence her with a glance.

“Can I have a look around?” He glances towards the door. “The woman I spoke to on the phone said I could have a look at the dogs after I’d filled in the form.”

“We need to do a home inspection first.”

“What?” He looks genuinely surprised. “What’s the point of doing that if there ain’t any dogs here I want?”

“It’s a new policy,” I say, desperately hoping Angharad won’t chime in and contradict me. “Only approved adopters can see the animals – less chance they’re disturbed by repeated visits that way.”

Mr Archer rubs the back of his neck and stares down at the table. He seems torn. “So there’s no way I can see the dogs today?”

I shake my head.

“And you definitely ain’t got no Staffies?”

“No.”

“Right, then.” He rubs his palms on his thighs and stands up. “No point me being here. Thanks for your time.” He reaches forward, shakes my hand and then, without another word, strolls out of the room and turns left towards reception.

“What was that about?” Angharad whispers as his footsteps retreat into the distance.

“I don’t know,” I say, “but I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Five Years Earlier

“Isaac?”

He’s sitting a metre away, his arms wrapped around his legs, his forehead pressed to his knees. In one hand is a rock, slick with blood. I reach for my shorts, still down around my knees, and pull them up. The action is automatic – I am half-naked and I should cover myself up – but I barely register what I am doing.

“Isaac?”

Frank’s body is on the ground behind him, his head turned away from us. The hair is matted, a pool of blood circling it like a red halo.