Gwyneth allowed her to help her to her feet and then tottered to a nearby chair. She sank into it gratefully. ‘Go and tell Terence to hurry up. He must help Max.’

Sandra folded her arms. ‘I can’t disturb him when he’s operating, you know that, Gwyneth.’ She relaxed a little and gave her a tentative smile. ‘You seem awfully worried about this Max. I’d have thought your real priorities would be Danny and Hugh. They are family after all.’

‘Max is family,’ Gwyneth said flatly. ‘He’s my son.’

*

Millicent gripped the steering wheel and peered through the swirling smoke, her gaze fixed to the headlights which illuminated the many ruts and hoof-prints left by the cavalcade.

She had been living on Carey Downs for eight years, but she had no idea where she was. Even in daylight one bit of track looked much like any other out here, and she’d always been very careful to use only the main route in and out of the property, but in the smoky darkness the landscape had become completely alien, and she could only assume that Delilah was following some traditional path known only to her people.

She glanced across at Hugh. He hadn’t stirred since she’d taken over the driving and as far as she could tell there had been no further attacks. The fact that she could hear his ragged breathing was something of a consolation. At least it meant he was still alive.

The baby began to squirm against her, his hungry mouth searching for her nipple, and she held him there with one hand while she carried on steering with the other. It felt as if she’d been driving forever, but her watch told her it had been less than two hours – and still there was no sign of the convoy.

There was a headache lurking behind her eyes, she desperately needed a pee and was very thirsty, but the water-bag was on the back shelf and she didn’t have a hand free to reach it. And she didn’t dare stop, for she was suddenly all too aware of how the trees on either side of the utility were beginning to rustle and sway.

She battled on, the headache worsening as she concentrated on those two beams of light and the tracks that would lead them out of here. But the wind was picking up, and eddies of dust were now softly but inexorably erasing all sign of the convoy’s route.

*

Brandy looked up as Sal returned. He whined softly and wagged his tail before returning to his vigil, his bottom resting on the satchel, nose lightly pressed to on Max’s chest.

‘Good boy,’ she murmured. Sal stroked his head as she knelt down, rescued the satchel and began to gather up the contents that were strewn across the ground. Stuffing everything back and snapping the lock, she turned her attention to Max.