‘Come on, Emily, stay awake for me now,’ Kerry says. ‘Do you know I can fly a plane? And that’s because of Joel. He paid for me to learn.’ She looks up. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

I smile. ‘Did they tell you or did you guess?’

‘I guessed . . .’ I see her hand stroking the girl’s head. ‘Keep your eyes open, Emily . . . Are they nearly here?’

I twist my head around. ‘Barbara?’

‘I can see them. Car headlights. People with torches,’ she says. ‘Hurry, please,’ she shouts down the phone.

‘What are you doing here, Joel?’

I could tell her about Liv, and the filming. But I don’t think that’s the question she’s asking. The rumble of emergency vehicles gets louder, but they still sound much too far away.

I move my other arm from my side up over my head, and begin to claw through the mud to propel myself forward, like I’m doing the front crawl in a swimming pool. All I want is to take Kerry’s hand, hang on till she’s safe. Or maybe I can do something more?

Argh.

Something stabs, near my heart. Has one of those leads worked loose again?

Not now. She needs me this time.

My brain and body scream at me to stop moving. But I won’t give in. As my hands grasp for something solid in the mud, I inch forward and the pain stops. It must have been a branch or piece of debris digging in, nothing more. My fingers close around a root ball and I pull myself nearer to the edge. ‘I’m here.’

Kerry’s head lamp shines into my eyes and her hand reaches up. I shimmy further, despite the pain as my ICD grinds against another dead branch.

Our fingers touch. She is so cold. I inch forward just enough to be able to wrap my fingers around hers and she squeezes back. ‘Why you, Joel?’

‘Because you were there for me.’

Chapter 66: Kerry

25 December 2017

I wake to a dark winter morning, and Joel is there: a mud-covered scarecrow.

‘Merry Christmas, Kerry Smith.’

‘Merry Christmas, Joel Greenaway.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Pretty out of it. Did you sleep here? You didn’t have to stay.’

‘I did and I did.’ He smiles. ‘But I ought to go now you’ve woken up; Leo might be thirteen, but he still likes his dad there for present-opening.’

I smile. ‘Who doesn’t?’

But I don’t want him to go. I don’t ever want to let him out of my sight again.

‘Is there any news?’

‘I checked on Emily,’ he says, ‘she had a good night.’