He hadn’t moved while she’d been gone – and although his colour was ghastly, at least he was still breathing. But his ashen face was cold and clammy to the touch, his fingers not responding as she took his hand and held it to her tear-streaked cheek. ‘Help is coming, Max. Hold on, darling. Please hold on.’

She eventually sniffed back her tears and wrapped Max in the blankets, then carefully put the cushion beneath his head and rolled him on to his side. She didn’t like the look of that blood-soaked dressing, but it was drying, which meant the bleeding must have stopped. Deciding it would be better not to disturb it, she turned her attention to his leg and gently untied the splints and bandage.

The torch batteries were running down, but as the weakened beam flickered and stuttered, she managed to examine the swelling round his ankle. It looked much worse, but there was no glimmer of bone, so perhaps it was only sprained. She eased off his boot, and using some of the drinking water and cooling antiseptic to soak the bandage, she wrapped it loosely again and refitted the splints.

‘Try to drink some water, Max,’ she murmured as she very carefully raised his head and put the nozzle to his slack lips. But the liquid spilled down his chin, ran into the hollow of his neck and soaked his shirt.

Remembering how she’d once kept the runt of a litter of puppies alive, she drenched one of the clean cloths she’d found in Killigarth’s kitchen with water, added a few drops of brandy and squeezed the liquid into Max’s mouth drip by drip and saw him swallow.

Encouraged, she tried to do it again. But this time it just dribbled down his chin. Frantic to do something to help him, she wetted his lips and then cleaned away the smears of blood that had trickled down his face.

Brandy whined and licked his lips as if he too was thirsty.

‘Go and drink from the trough,’ Sal ordered quietly, pointing towards the windmill. ‘Go, Brandy. Water.’

The dog rushed off, and Sal heard the splash as he jumped into the trough, the furious lapping at the water and the unmistakable sound of him shaking himself once he’d climbed out again. He returned, still wet, and nestled down beside Max.

Sal realised there was nothing more she could do now but stay with him and wait for help. So she lay alongside them both, her arm protectively over Max’s midriff in the faint hope he might realise she was there – and take comfort and strength from it.

*