He’d seen her sad, he’d seen her angry and he’d seen her upset, but never before had he seen her so close to being beaten. ‘I’ll drive,’ he said impulsively. ‘I’ve driven a minibus a few times.’

Her eyes grew wide. ‘But what about the pub?’

‘We’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll call Mr Tubb first thing tomorrow. And I certainly owe you a huge thank you for stopping that counter flap landing on my head.’

‘It was instinctive,’ she protested. ‘Anyone would have done the same.’

‘I doubt it. But I’m not going to let you miss this trip, miss seeing your brothers, because of it, so I’ll drive.’ He halted, seeing Lily’s blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears. ‘Hey,’ he chided her jokily. ‘That was supposed to cheer you up.’

She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. ‘Thank you. Just … if you can swing it with Tubb, then thank you. Thank you!’ She smothered a yawn.

‘You need to go to bed. Let those painkillers work.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘In fact, if I’m to be ready to start out with you at nine on Monday morning then I need to go too.’

Lily yawned again and struggled to her feet, ungainly in exhaustion.

He regarded her thoughtfully, looking at the buttons on her top, the zip of her trousers. ‘Are you going to be able to undress yourself?’

‘Um,’ she quavered, colour edging her white cheeks.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t hit on women who only have one hand to fend me off with,’ he told her drily. ‘You can’t wake Carola up at this hour. Let me help.’ Shyly, she led him to her bedroom where gently he unfastened two buttons at the neck of her polo top then removed her sling, treating her as if she were made of rice paper as he threaded her good arm through her sleeve, eased the fabric over her head and down her arm, over her swollen hand. He turned his attention to the button at the waist of her black trousers, heart hammering at the brush of the soft skin of her stomach against the backs of his fingers. Silently, he undid the laces on her Skechers so she could toe them off and shimmy out of her trousers.