‘Andrew, wake up,’ said Rayl.
‘Eh,’ he mumbled, still half asleep in a dream about kangaroos spilling his beer.
‘Wake up now.’
‘It wasn’t me.’
‘What?’
‘It was the kangaroos.’
‘Did what?’
‘Pissed on the toilet floor.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake – Andrew Faux, wake up, you idiot.’
Rayl shook him this time.
‘Ah, wha, who, oh, hello,’ he said, finally opening his eyes and finding his wife scowling at him. ‘What’s up, sweet pea?’
‘It’s Ed, he’s gone,’ she said, her face a picture of worry.
‘Where to?’
‘That’s just it, Andrew, nobody knows. He was snatched by unknown assailants from his house in Cambridgeshire last night.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘Precisely – and Pol is missing too.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘Stop saying oh shit and get up.’