Why hasn’t she replied to his text? The simple answer is that she doesn’t know what to say. She looks at his photos. She enjoyed his company on Wednesday night. It was fun, uncomplicated. Easy. All the things she needs at the moment. But the idea of going on a date with someone – someone who isn’t Jonathan – seems alien and strange. So she leaves it unanswered, although she knows that when she goes back to work, it will be the elephant in the room.

The film is predictable, and she debates flicking channels when there’s a knock on the door. Barely perceptible, but there. She mutes the television and listens. She hears it again.

She gets up and opens the door.

It’s Robin. And he has a big cardboard box in his hand.

Without asking permission, he walks past her into the room and plonks it on the bed. She stares at him, feeling awkward in her pyjamaed state, with no bra and bare legs. Like her, he’s got changed – tracksuit bottoms, T-shirt, bare feet – but he doesn’t seem to register the inappropriateness of their attire.

‘I found this,’ he announces, pointing to the box. ‘I went to my storage locker this morning. These are our old photo albums.’

‘Okay…’

‘Some baby shots, you know. The usual stuff. But I found this.’

He holds out a blue leather-bound album.

‘From 1992.’

Robin perches on the edge of her bed and opens the album as Freya sits beside him. The only light in the room comes from the lamp by her bedside and the television, a flickering glow on their faces. Actors talk to each other on the screen, mute but persistent.

‘Look, here…’ He points to one photo. She leans closer to see what he’s indicating.

It’s an old photo, showing boys in green jumpers, and Freya recognises the Scout uniform.

‘See, there’s me,’ Robin says, pointing to a small figure on one side. ‘In Owl Patrol.’

‘Okay…’

‘There’s Jacob Fraser. And there’s Finn.’ He points again. ‘They were in the same patrol. He did know him. They would have done everything together at that Scout camp. Slept in the same tent. Eaten at the same table. And here—’ He holds out the school report from earlier. ‘I borrowed this, had a read. All the teachers say that Finn was quiet that first term. More withdrawn than usual.’

Freya looks from the photo back to Robin. ‘So?’ she asks, slowly. ‘This fits with what we said before, that he was depressed. Why does it matter?’

‘Because Josie lied! I know what Finn was like, as a teenager,’ Robin says. ‘He so wanted to be liked. I didn’t care what the other kids said about me, but Finn? He was desperate to fit in.’ He looks at her, his face dark. ‘What if… what if he was feeling like that again? With Simon Sharp.’