‘Here now, let me help,’ he says, holding the horse fast while reaching for the stirrup leather. With a groan, the girl finally succeeds in freeing her boot. It thuds onto the ground. She lies back in the dirt, breathing hard.

‘Thank you.’ She props herself up on her elbows, wincing.

‘Are you hurt? I mean, stupid question, but …’

‘I’m all right, I think. It could have been a lot worse. Bloody van!’

‘Aye, he nearly knocked us flying and all.’

She is pale, deathly so. The glitter he witnessed earlier in her eyes has vanished like fairy dust. Now they are leaden and dull.

‘Here, let me help you up …’ He releases the bridle, but as he moves towards her the horse skittishly sidesteps, its hooves coming too close to the stricken rider for comfort. Jack goes for the reins, but the horse lunges at him with bared teeth and as he recoils it bolts, cantering down the road, the empty stirrups jiggling against its flanks as it disappears around the corner. The girl calls after him, but her voice breaks and fades with the horse’s ringing hooves.

‘Miss?’ Jack drops into a crouch beside her. ‘Miss?’

‘Just … a minute …’ She squeezes her eyes shut and pants in sharp bursts, battling against the pain. A bruise is already forming on the side of her face.

‘I should go and get some help,’ Jack says.

‘Don’t worry … it’s not my first tumble.’ She manages to sit up, emitting little gasps as she moves.

‘Steady now,’ Jack says.

‘Can you help me stand?’

‘Aye …’

He is acutely aware the hand he offers her is ingrained with filth, coal dust and worse, but he notices the hand she gives him is also far from perfect. Her fingernails are bitten short and he feels the scratch of callouses against his palm. As he rises from his haunches, he brings her with him, slowly, with care, until they are both on their feet. She lets out an involuntary cry.

‘What is it?’

‘My foot …’ But it is down the lane that she looks. ‘I must find Arthur.’ She tries again to take her weight, but her ankle buckles. She clamps down on her cry, as if ashamed to be making a fuss.

‘Miss, you can’t go wandering around the countryside on that. We need to get you seen to.’

The colour is leaching out of her and Jack is unable to stifle his concern.

‘I’ll go home. I only live a short distance.’

‘Let me help you.’

‘No, really, I’ll be fine … I’ve troubled you enough …’ She casts another anxious glance in the direction of the departed horse. ‘I shouldn’t even be here …’ she says miserably, looking away.

‘Miss, you won’t get far without some help. It’s no bother.’