‘Aye, that he is,’ said Ron. ‘But we’ve not seen the last of him, you can be sure of that.’

Peggy scrubbed her face with her hands. ‘Oh, lawks,’ she sighed. ‘I wish now I’d never called him back. Poor Doris has got enough to deal with without him being such a beast.’ And then an awful thought struck her. ‘I hope he won’t be lying in wait for her back at the house,’ she gasped. ‘She’ll have no defence against him, and it would be simply awful if he insisted upon staying with her.’

‘You don’t really think he’d do that, Peggy? It’s obvious he loathes her,’ said Frank.

‘It would be a fine act of revenge, though,’ murmured Ron. ‘Probably best if she comes to the Anchor with me and Rosie.’

Doris had fought back her tears as she’d looked down at John who was incarcerated in thick plaster casts. But he’d woken enough to assure her he was feeling fine, and once the nurse had given her his wallet, keys and watch, she’d gone back to the waiting room in some trepidation, fearing Michael would still be there.

Horrified by Peggy’s suspicions, and accepting that Michael could very well do such a thing, she’d gladly accepted Ron’s invitation to stay at the Anchor. It meant only crossing the road to the hospital, and she felt safer with Ron than she would have on her own all day at Beach View with only Cordelia for company.

She rose early that Tuesday morning, dressed in the crumpled clothes she’d been wearing the day before, and tried to do justice to the lovely breakfast Rosie had cooked for her. At some point she would need to go home to fetch her car and pack a small bag of essentials, although Rosie had lent her a nightdress and some underwear. But John was her priority now, and as the doctor had given his permission for her to visit out of the usual hours today, she wanted to be with him for as long as possible before Michael turned up – as he inevitably would.

She arrived at the hospital shortly after breakfast had been cleared away and made the long trek to the men’s surgical ward. The sister in charge had been notified of her visit and showed her where John’s bed was. ‘He’s had a little breakfast and is sleeping again,’ she said quietly. ‘It will take time for the heavy medication to wear off, but don’t worry, it’s quite usual.’

Doris sat in the armchair by the bed and regarded him lovingly. His beloved face was a much better colour today but for the dark bruise on his forehead. The left side of him had taken the impact, for that arm was in plaster, as was the leg, which was raised up by a set of pulleys. The sheet and blanket covered his body, but she knew his broken ribs were tightly bound and there was another plaster cast surrounding his hips which, according to the doctor, would stay on the longest.