‘D’you have any numbness at all?’ I asked.

Slowly Troy shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Is it broken?’

‘I can’t tell,’ I admitted. ‘If there’s no numbness or tingling, then I don’t think so, but I don’t know for sure. It could be a bad sprain or it could be a fracture. Until we get out of here, the only thing I can do is strap it up and you’ll have to stay off it as much as possible.’

‘That’s all we need,’ said Troy.

‘It’s not like you were scheduled to run a marathon any time soon. Come on.’ I stood up and reached for his hand. ‘Let me help you stand and get to a crate.’

It took a while to get Troy to his feet, or onto his one good foot rather, and then a couple of minutes of him leaning his full weight on me to hop to the nearest crate. Every time he hopped, he jarred his bad ankle, which was agony for him, and his instinct most times was to put his right foot down, which made it worse. By the time he collapsed onto the crate, sweat was pouring off both of us.

‘Could you turn your head, please?’ I asked.

‘Why?’ asked Troy.

‘I need to take off my trousers,’ I said.

‘Er, why?’

‘Just do it. OK?’

Even though Troy turned his head, I was still full-frontal blushing as I pulled my school trousers down. Kicking off my shoes, I peeled off my black tights, then quickly put on my trousers and shoes again before some verminous creature could run over my bare feet.

‘Finished,’ I announced.

‘What’re you doing?’ asked Troy as I squatted down in front of him.

‘Sorting out your ankle,’ I snapped to cover up my embarrassment.

Troy’s eyebrows shot up, but thankfully he didn’t say anything. How to do this with no scissors …? I carefully wrapped one leg of my tights round Troy’s ankle. I had to be careful not to strap it too tightly or I’d stop his circulation, but it had to be tight enough to provide some relief.

Troy grimaced, flinched and even yelled out once while I carefully knotted my makeshift bandage. With each wince, I kept saying sorry until he barked at me to stop apologizing. It took all my self-control not to snap back. By the time I’d finished, his skin was almost grey with agony.

‘I’m sor— I mean, I hope that helps,’ I said, wrapping the other leg of the tights lightly round the first and tucking it in at the top of the makeshift bandage. Troy tried to tug down his trouser leg, but the tights made a bulky lump and the trouser leg had to stay bunched up at his knee.

‘Thanks,’ he whispered.

‘Are you OK?’

‘No. I feel sick.’