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“This might take a little time. Is there any chance of a cup of tea?” Passmore said.

I shook my head.

“No.”

The moments that followed were excruciating. I couldn’t see it through.

“I don’t drink it,” I said.

They sat down. Passmore took a pad from his jacket and Skinner began the tedious ritual.

“Could you tell us what happened last night?”

I sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa and recounted the events, starting with the footprint and ending with my trip to PC World.

“I was coming back from there when you nearly ran me over.”

“We know,” Skinner said. He pushed his tongue into his right cheek then let it go round the inside of his bottom lip to the left hand side. “Why didn’t you just call us when you found the footprints?”

I couldn’t tell them the real answer. It would make me look stupid. I had to play it cool.

“I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Important enough to hunt around in your loft, find a pair of flip-flops, set up a Christmas tree and lighting system, and then sit up all night,” Passmore said.

“Hmmm.” He had a point, but two against one wasn’t fair.

“Could we take a look in the garden?”

I agreed without thinking. We moved through to the kitchen. I looked at the table and winced. Passmore saw the teapot and the empty mug and walked over to them. He held his hand against the pot. It was still warm. He lifted the lid.