‘A bit.’ Probably another lie. Then, urgently, ‘Can you take me back to my place?’

‘Now?’

‘As soon as you can.’

‘But I don’t want to leave you there in the state you’re in.’

‘Please!’

I knew better than to argue with Dodge. It was something we had never done. I was aware that he was a complex of neuroses, some of which I began to understand. But I also knew of his suspicion – possibly even fear – of people. He was permanently uneasy in company, even my company. Though he was the least aggressive person I had ever met, I didn’t want to cross him. I valued his friendship far too much to put it at risk.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Just let me put some clothes on. If you want anything to eat or drink …’

‘No, thanks.’

I looked at his split and swollen lips. ‘Does it hurt too much to swallow?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Dodge, lying again.

I could tell from his wincing how much the journey hurt. Bruising is always more painful on the second day. I tried to guide the Yeti as smoothly as possible but there were a lot of winter potholes that hadn’t been mended on the back roads to Walberton. Each one sent an agonizing shudder through him, but still Dodge didn’t cry out.

I tried to get him to talk. ‘You’re sure about not seeing a doctor? I could take you to A & E at St Richard’s.’

‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll sort myself out. I’ve got everything I need back at my place.’

‘Herbal stuff?’

‘Yes. Comfrey’s good. Also called “knit-bone”. Did you know that?’

I confessed that I didn’t.

‘It works. I don’t think I’ve got any broken bones, but it’s also good as an anti-inflammatory. Inhibits infection too.’

‘Do you use arnica?’ I asked.

‘A bit, but I’ve found other things more effective.’

‘Like?’

‘Aloe vera, parsley … cabbage.’

‘Cabbage?’ I echoed in amazement.

‘Yes. The humble cabbage. Make compresses with it. Good for bruises.’

The Yeti turned in the narrow track that led to his home. ‘Dodge,’ I said, ‘I’ve got to ask you. Do you have any idea who attacked you?’

‘No,’ he mumbled, avoiding eye contact more than ever.

I couldn’t stop myself from saying, ‘It isn’t anything to do with drugs, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look, I know you’re involved in that ReProgramme thing in Portsmouth …’

‘Yes.’ It wasn’t something he liked to talk about.

‘Well, I just wondered if, through that, you might have got on the wrong side of some drug dealers or …’

‘No,’ he said. ‘The attack was nothing to do with that.’

I brought the Yeti to a halt in the space between the house and the two corrugated-iron-roofed outbuildings. ‘Then what did it have to do with?’

‘I don’t know.’

I couldn’t tell whether that was the truth or not. ‘But surely you must want to know who did that to you …?’