Josie and Sandra stand in the doorway, their hands over their mouths. Robin turns to Sophie.

‘When were you here last?’ he asks.

‘I… I…’ Sophie stutters. Her eyes are wide; she’s clearly as shocked as they are by the state of Finn’s flat.

‘When, Sophie?’ Robin asks again.

‘Not for a while, a few months maybe. Finn always comes to mine, he says his place is poky, and…’ She shakes her head. ‘I didn’t know.’

Robin slowly continues his way inside, looking downwards, trying to avoid treading on the mess strewn on the ground. He goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. There’s little food inside, just two cans of beer and some nearly empty bottles of condiments – tomato ketchup, mustard, mayo – and a few plastic bottles of water. Robin frowns.

‘Did he eat at yours, too?’ he directs over his shoulder to Sophie.

‘Sometimes. I’d cook for him, but for the last few weeks he’s been spending more and more time at the university, getting everything ready for Simon’s visit.’

‘Hmm.’ Robin can’t make it add up. His intelligent, sensitive, previously house-proud friend is living in this… this pit? What’s he missing? What’s going on?

He turns round and gently escorts Sophie over to the sofa. She lets him guide her, still shocked. Robin pushes the clothes and newspapers aside and sits her down.

‘Sophie?’ he says gently. He waits until she has stopped gawping at the flat and looks at him. ‘How has Finn been?’ he asks. ‘In the last month or so. The truth, please.’

Sophie opens and closes her mouth a few times, then rubs her eyes. Robin can see she is on the edge of tears.

‘He…’ she starts. ‘He hasn’t been himself. Finn’s always been quiet, but lately he’s completely retreated. Would barely talk to me. When I asked him about it, he said he was worried about work – about Simon’s visit and the BBC filming. He said there was a lot riding on this going well. He’s been struggling to get funding for the next bit of research, and this would have solved all their problems.’

She sniffs. ‘But I didn’t think things had got this bad. Or maybe… I just…’ She tails off again. ‘He’s lost a bit of weight. I knew he wasn’t eating properly. I’d bring him food to his lab, but most of it went untouched.’

Robin sighs. They need to finish their search, then get out of there. It’s bad enough when you’re a police officer, used to seeing this sort of shit, even if he’s struggling to attribute it to his best friend. But it must be impossible for Finn’s mother.

‘You guys can wait in the car, if you like,’ he says gently. ‘I’ll finish up.’