Lucy decided to wait for the seizure to pass without mentioning it to anyone. She could still hear the helicopter hovering somewhere nearby. Then its blades started slowing down and, with a final high whirr, came to a halt. The disturbing impact of the seizures was not diminished by their familiarity: whatever triggered them, they always triggered the thought that she was declining rapidly. When this episode passed, she felt yet more depleted and curled up still more tightly on the sofa, with a cushion between her knees and her eyes closed. She didn’t react to the opening of the cottage door; she would find out soon enough why a helicopter had throbbed and sliced the air over the cottage roof and sent its Doppler sound waves through her volatile body.

‘Hey, Lucy, how’s it going?’

Lucy’s eyes clicked open. What on earth was Hunter doing here? She made an effort to sit up.

‘Oh, hi, Hunter,’ she managed to say, leaning up on one elbow, the base camp for her assault on the summit of an upright position. ‘What a surprise. How on earth did you find me?’

‘I did some detective work when I saw you were on sick leave and came down as fast as I could. It seems my helicopter upset some Stone Age ponies, which I’m very contrite about, but I had to see how you were doing.’

Finally sitting upright, Lucy saw Francis staggering through to the kitchen with a hamper. She could tell that he was trying to calm down from his fury at Hunter’s cavalier arrival.

‘I’ve brought us a few things,’ said Hunter. ‘Some lunch, which I’ve given to your host …’

‘Francis,’ said Lucy.

Hunter came and sat beside her on the sofa and took one of her hands in his.

‘We’re going to look after you,’ he said, ‘and you’re going to get better.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, feeling the conviction in his words. He seemed more relaxed and refreshed than she’d ever seen him before.

Olivia came in from the kitchen.

‘Well, Hunter, that’s definitely the biggest tin of caviar I’ve ever seen,’ she said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Thanks so much. We’ve put the vegetable soup back in the fridge and warmed the blinis. The vodka has stayed extremely cold in that special pouch of yours, although I don’t know how many takers you’re going to have for vodka shots on a Monday morning.’

‘We’ll definitely have to toast Lucy’s health,’ said Hunter.

‘That’s true,’ said Olivia, ‘but Lucy can’t drink for the moment, Francis is going to meet some bird-ringers this afternoon, and I’m trying to do some research for a paper I’m writing, so we can’t get blind drunk.’

‘Not on one bottle,’ said Hunter with a burst of laughter, ‘that’s for sure.’