In spite of the pain, Ben’s lips twitched again, but as the two women lifted him up into the rear of the wagon, he moaned. And when Megan tried to arrange his foot so that driving wouldn’t jar it too much, he fainted. She quickly took the opportunity to brace the foot with a second pillow.

‘Go and get our handbags! And shut the door properly this time.’ she ordered Cynthia. ‘We’ll have to drive him to the hospital. Do you know where the nearest one is?’

‘No, of course I don’t!’

‘Then we’ll drive towards Bunbury. It’s closer than Mandurah.’

It seemed to take an eternity of bumping along the dirt track until they reached the highway. Megan ordered a protesting Cynthia to get out and open the gate, then close it. She drove carefully through it onto the hard shoulder at the side of the road, highly tempted to drive away and leave the other woman where she was, because Cynthia had not once stopped grumbling. Nor had she even tried to keep an eye on Ben in the back.

When they eventually found the hospital, she stopped at the emergency entrance, jumped out of the car and yelled for help. By the time two white-clad figures came out with a trolley she had the back door open, so that they could get to Ben.

Cynthia remained in the front seat, sobbing about how cold and wet she was.

Inside the medical team took Ben away and Megan allowed herself to be wrapped in blankets and fed a cup of stewed, but wonderfully hot tea by one of the nurses.

Someone must have coaxed Cynthia out of the car, because Megan could see her, similarly wrapped in blankets, at the other side of the room. She was still weeping over her cup of tea.

Megan didn’t attempt to go over to her, because all her attention was on the door through which the stretcher had disappeared. It wasn’t just his ankle; it was how chilled Ben had been that worried her.

When a doctor appeared, it was to confirm that her husband had indeed broken his ankle and would need to have it set under anaesthetic. ‘He’ll not recover consciousness for a while after that. Has he eaten recently? He hasn’t? Oh, good, then we needn’t wait to operate. Look, Mrs Saunders, you’d be better going home and telephoning in later for news.’

‘We live on a country block and we aren’t on the phone yet, so I’d rather wait here until I know he’s all right.’

‘As you wish.’

A nurse came up to her as the doctor left. ‘You’ll need to sign some forms, Mrs Saunders, then we have to get you and your friend warm. You’re both shivering still.’

‘She’s no friend of mine!’