There was a short, awkward pause, before the three of them raced out of the door, leaving Bella looking so angry that Jo imagined she could almost see the steam coming out of her ears.

As they rounded the corner of the road where Emma had told them she was, Jo gasped, clamping her hand over her mouth. Emma was sitting on the still-frosty grass verge with her head in her hands. Even at a distance, Jo could see that she was very distressed. Her mint green Fiat 500 was neatly nestled up against a tree, almost as if it was giving it a hug. Flimsy plumes of smoke rose lazily from beneath the bonnet. Peter pulled the car over and they all leaped out. Jo knelt down and put an arm around Emma’s shaking shoulders. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart, we’re here now. You’re going to be fine.’

Emma let out a sound that was a cross between a groan and a sob and nodded. Ben moved round behind her and put his hands under her armpits, before lifting her gently to her feet. She took a deep breath to steady herself and gave him a watery smile. ‘Cheers, Ben.’

Ben smiled back, his face still full of concern. ‘No worries. That’s quite an impressive bump on your head.’

Jo followed his gaze. A huge egg-shaped lump was forming on Emma’s forehead. It reminded her of the time when she was three and she had fallen down the stone steps in the garden, resulting in a similar-shaped bump.

‘Come on, piglet, let’s get you home.’ Peter pulled Emma into his arms and steered her towards the Range Rover, where he carefully helped her into the back seat.

Jo could see that Emma was violently shaking and climbed in beside her, wrapping one arm around her and taking her hand in the other.

‘I’ll drive Em’s car home,’ Ben said, heading towards the Fiat.

‘Is it OK to drive?’ Jo looked dubiously at the little car, which was looking very sorry for itself. ‘I don’t want you having an accident, too.’

‘I think it’ll be fine. Let’s just get it home and we can get someone to take a look later.’ Peter was already starting up the Range Rover and putting it into gear.

A few minutes later, they arrived home and helped a still-trembling Emma out of the car and into the house. Peter steered her towards the kitchen and settled her on a chair at the huge granite island in the middle of the room. ‘I know what you need – a glass of mulled wine.’ He turned expectantly towards the hob and stopped in puzzlement. ‘What’s happened to the mulled wine?’

Jo could feel her cheeks reddening. ‘I tipped it away.’

‘What did you do that for?’ Peter frowned and looked at Jo in astonishment.

‘Because … oh, because it was horrible!’ Jo waved her hand dismissively. ‘And I think Emma needs something a bit stronger than a non-alcoholic mulled wine anyway. Go and get her some whisky!’ She knew she was blustering because she was embarrassed. She had tipped the mulled wine away in a fit of pique because Peter had prepared it especially for Bella.