I press the bell. We wait a moment, then I press again. They weren’t expecting us, or perhaps Andi’s got her headphones in, or he’s in the bathroom …

Susan and I both turn and look over the fields and gardens, towards Collingwood’s Monument and the Tyne path. We know that Andi takes Kenneth there for some fresh air, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

I really don’t want to give up. I’m pressing the bell for a third time when I hear movement on the other side of the door. Andi opens it, and she looks tired. She’s not wearing her carer’s smock and her shiny skin seems paler and dull.

‘Oh. Hello,’ she says, trying to smile but failing.

We all stand there, a bit awkwardly. Why isn’t she inviting us in?

She says, ‘Did you not get the message?’

‘Which message?’

She sighs, deeply. ‘I told your Mrs Farroukh. But it was only a few hours ago.’

We both shake our heads.

Andi takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this, kids. Mr McKinley died last night.’

Chapter 59

It takes a moment for this to sink in.

Like an idiot, I say, ‘Are you sure?’

Andi gives a sad little laugh. ‘Yes, Malky, pet, I’m sure. Late last night. Just like that. In his bed. He was very old and … I think he was almost expecting it. I’m sorry you found out like this.’ She’s still hanging on to the front door and we stay on the steps.

I’m wondering what to do. I don’t think I’m even sad, not yet. Instead, I’m seeing my only chance of rescuing Seb evaporating.

Susan blurts out, ‘Can we come in?’

Andi gives her a funny look and Susan’s bottom lip quivers. ‘It’s just … he reminded me of my grandad, and I’d like to take a last look around.’

For someone who never lies, Susan is pretty good at it when she has to be.

‘Erm …’ says Andi. ‘Yeah. Why not? Come in.’ She clearly thinks this is strange and I don’t really blame her. She stands aside and we enter the tall dark hallway. I feel I need to say something now.

‘I’d just, you know, like to see his room one more time.’

Oh no. That really does sound suspicious. And morbid. It’s not like we knew him well. Andi shrugs and shows us in. I reach for the hand-san and then realise with a pang of genuine sadness that I don’t need it any more.

I suppose that is when it hits me. I liked Kenneth McKinley. His chair is in the same position. The strange thing is that the cushion where he used to sit is still indented, like Seb’s pillow was. I never thought that a bum-print from a dead man could be so sad.