I ran and did as I was told, wondering if he didn't want me to see Hugo like this. It was a ridiculously hi-tech vehicle, but there was at least a key and, leaning in from the passenger side, I yanked it out. The ominous, expensive purr of the engine, which had been rumbling quietly away like a horror movie soundtrack, came to a sudden halt, which was a relief. Quiet descended. It was punctuated suddenly by a great rustle of trees, as a high wind whipped around. A flock of crows flew away in a great surge from the top of one of the tall chestnuts in the avenue. Tommy had Hugo propped like a child between his legs now, sitting up, head lolling forward, and making no sound. No heavy breathing, no vomit.

I seized his wrist. Couldn't feel a pulse. I looked at Tommy in horror.

"It's there," he assured me, his eyes on mine, steady and unwavering. "It's just faint. Look at his chest."

I put both hands on his chest and did feel some slight movement.

"Oh, please, be quick," I breathed to the paramedics men of Truro. "Please, hurry." As I said it, Tommy and I looked knowingly at each other, realizing it couldn't be so. The hospital was miles away and the lanes were choked today.

“Should we take him?" I urged. “Should I get a car?"

"No, we'll never get through without a siren, and he'll need the oxygen in the ambulance. We'll wait." He was wiping vomit from Hugo's face and neck with his sleeve. “Trust me, Flora, he's alive, he's breathing, we just need him checked."

He was very limp, though, very full of poison. Suddenly I had a thought. “There'll be one on the beach," I said, as it struck me. “For the regatta. D’you think they'll even know they've got one close by? Should I call and say?"

Even as I said it, the wail of a siren could be heard in the background. We looked at each other with relief. Blood trickled freely from cuts on Tommy's hands and face and I wanted to wipe them. Closer and closer it wailed, the siren, and up above, a noisy rumble, too, in the low, threatening, thickening clouds which had been a feature of the afternoon, but which now let fall huge plops of rain. They were intermittent to begin with, one landing on Hugo's forehead, then on me, then Tommy. Then, with a sudden vengeful hiss, down it came. It poured on to the parched clay ground, the dry yellow grass, bouncing off the gravel, and before long was running in rivulets and paths. Another tremendous rattle of thunder erupted above as rain steamed down on our heads. If nothing else, it covered the nauseous smell of fumes and sick and I was glad of it.