She did not reply but he was right, she was exhausted, not with the day job but with everything else on top of that. Nevertheless, if she could muster just enough energy after supper, she ought to go into the hospital. The only other person who might have visited him was the warden of the almshouses and she had the other residents to look after. To have no one in the world to see you or care about you except a sheltered housing warden and your doctor was a fate she would not wish on any old person but she knew it was the situation for too many.

‘Sleeting again.’

‘I wish it would snow or not snow – this freezing rain and sleet and greyness is getting very tiresome. Three feet of snow for three weeks is what we need.’

‘You don’t mean that. Night calls? Car breakdowns?’

Cat laughed, and turned into the drive.

‘Is that a motorbike?’ Through the sleet driving against the windscreen Cat could make out little, even with the headlamps on, but as she pulled up at the front door, she saw the bike and then someone huddled in the porch.

‘Sam? Sam! What in heaven’s name are you doing there in this cold? Haven’t you got your key? What –’

‘Can you help me out?’ The voice was plaintive.

‘Wait a minute.’

‘You left the car door open, I can’t reach to close it and I’m frozen.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, Kieron, you’re like a small child, me me me. Here, hold on . . . put your good leg down first – don’t slip.’

‘I’m trying not to, aren’t I? It’s extremely painful. What’s Sam doing?’

‘Right, hop if you can’t weight-bear on that leg. Sam, can you give me a hand please?’

But Sam shook his head. He was standing now, his coat over his head, arms folded round in front of him.

Somehow, she got the door open and helped Kieron over the step and inside. ‘Sit there a minute. Let me . . . Sam? What is it?’

Her son stood just inside the door, arms still folded. He opened his jacket.

‘I found him on the doorstep. I left my key in London, sorry. I didn’t know where you were and my phone was out of battery. I’ve been trying to keep us both warm but he’s not in a good way, Mum.’

Sam and Cat sat down on the kitchen sofa with Wookie lying between them, one paw in Sam’s hand. His coat had small clumps of frozen snow matted into it, he was shivering and there was blood on his front leg. His pads were cut and the claws on all four legs torn and ragged.

‘Poor little dog, you poor little thing. Where do you think he’s been?’