She went back in to check on Frikk. He was breathing more easily, she thought. She hoped. He didn’t react much when she spoke to him, but that didn’t stop her. She scratched his ears and he blinked at her. He tried to wag his tail, but didn’t have the energy for it.

‘Keep breathing, Frikk. That’s all you have to do,’ she said. With one hand on his chest, she was relieved to feel the dog’s heart beating strongly. That was surely a good sign, she thought. ‘I hope you have learned your lesson now. No more vipers, all right?’

Frikk kicked one of his legs and Ninni breathed a bit more easily. She kept a hand on his fur until he settled again. This was going to be okay, she thought. He was going to be okay.

Ninni didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, when Jack put his head in. ‘If you’re still hungry, the food is ready.’

‘I’m starving.’ She almost jumped onto her feet.

‘How is he doing?’ Jack dried his hands on a tea towel.

Ninni looked back at the dog. ‘I think the antiserum is doing its job.’

‘That’s good. I can bring the food out here, if you want.’

Ninni shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think we should eat food on the floor of a vet’s surgery.’

She followed behind him. He still looked silly in those trousers. Silly, but good.

‘It smells amazing. What did you make?’

Jack looked over his shoulder. ‘Pasta carbonara. Best I could do under the circumstances.’

Ninni went quiet when she sat down. Somewhere he had found plates and cutlery, even paper napkins and a candle. It was bright red, so probably a leftover from Christmas, but even so. The effort was impressive and that was even before she had tasted the food. He had bought fizzy drinks to go with the food and she smiled at the sight of the bright yellow bottles.

‘It smells wonderful,’ she said.

Jack put the pot on the table. ‘I hope you like Italian food.’

The pot was steaming and promising all sorts of deliciousness. ‘I love Italian food.’

Jack filled her plate with a generous portion, then grabbed a grater and a piece of hard cheese. ‘Parmesan.’

Ninni looked at him. ‘This is proper Parmesan? Are you serious?’

‘I’m always serious about food.’ Jack sat down opposite her.

The food looked too good to eat. ‘Do you cook like this every day?’ she asked.

‘I don’t have time to cook for myself. I usually eat at the restaurant.’ Jack filled his own bowl.

‘So, you eat the food that you make at the restaurant. Isn’t that cooking for yourself?’

‘Not really, no. I would be happy with a cheese sandwich if I only cooked for myself.’ Jack lit the candle with a lighter he told her he’d found in the same drawer as the Scotch the vet had mentioned.

Ninni chewed the pasta and swallowed. ‘Did you make this pasta?’