When she had first accosted him Snowy’s eyes had been cold as ice, his mouth set in a sneer, but as she explained it was as though the ice melted and the old Snowy, the one who had been her friend, suddenly reappeared. She was clutching his arm with her right hand and now he took it in a reassuring grasp. ‘They’re in the Stanley Hospital, or most of them are at any rate. I’ve a cousin who’s a nurse there and she said they’d taken most of the injured. But look, Tess, you take my place in the queue and I’ll go to the back . . . or would you like me to come with you to the hospital? I’m awful sorry your gran was on the coach but of course, coming from Liverpool, most folk seem to know at least one of the passengers. I say, is all that luggage yours?’

‘Yes – no – well, it’s mine and my friend’s,’ Tess said rather wildly. ‘He’s gone to get a copy of the Echo because I thought it might mention the hospital, but now you’ve told me . . .’

But at this point Jonty joined them, raising his brows at Snowy. ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked, then stuck out a hand. ‘How do you do, whoever you are! I heard you offering to give up your place in the queue to Tess. It’s awfully good of you, and if you don’t mind we’ll accept, because we’re very anxious to get to the hospital and find out just how bad Mrs Williams is.’

Once more, Tess watched as Snowy’s expression changed from concern to suspicion and then, warmingly, to a sort of friendship. As Snowy turned from them to go to the back of the queue, they both called their thanks, but before they could do more the next taxi to return to the rank drew up, and others in the queue ahead who had heard the conversation stood to one side and pushed the young pair into the vehicle with an injunction to the driver to: ‘Drive hell for leather to the Stanley Hospital, mate.’

In the taxi, Jonty put a comforting hand on Tess’s. ‘I expect Mr Payne will be with her, but of course they won’t tell him an awful lot, because he’s not a relative,’ he said. ‘In fact the doctors will be waiting for you, because if they need a signature and your gran can’t give it herself, then you, as her next of kin, will be the one whose go-ahead they need.’

Tess nodded, peering out through the dusk. ‘But if she needed an emergency operation I’m sure they wouldn’t wait for my say-so,’ she pointed out. ‘When it’s a matter of life or death . . .’

Jonty gave a theatrical sigh. ‘That’s right, look on the black side,’ he said resignedly. ‘I hope when your gran sits up in bed and asks why you’ve quit your holiday when it’s got almost another week to run, you’ll apologise to me for getting in such a lather.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘Who was that chap, by the way? The one who gave up his place in the queue to us.’