He looked like he’d just realized he’d waded in way too deep without a hand to hold, but I had no time for mercy.

“Five o’clock! And he doesn’t even know where we are? We’ve got to get back to Edinburgh. I told Norman six at the latest, and it’s going to take us at least...”

I struggled to an upright position, trying to fight the overwhelming rush of nausea and dizziness that hit me like a concrete wall. I managed to swing one leg off the bed, but the other got tangled up in the IV drip on its way down.

“Shit, shit, shit! Leonard...help me just...oh shit!”

“Now, now, my dear. You must stop. Just calm yourself for a moment. Steady as you go.”

Even as Leonard was speaking he was gently maneuvering me back onto the bed, untangling the sheet and the IV. He placed a cool hand on my forehead.

“It’s all right, Sadie. I promise you. Shush now. It’s okay. I have a plan.”

I had a strong urge to shout that I’d had more than enough of plans, thank you very much. Plans are what got us into this bloody trip in the first place. But the struggle to get out of bed had taken its toll and I didn’t quite have it in me. Luckily, though, as plans went, dementia or not, Leonard’s seemed okay.

It turned out Dicky was a bit of a champ in times of crisis, despite his rather dubious driving skills. He’d called up his brother, who was not only the best mechanic in Biggar, he’d also had quite a bit of experience with vintage cars. So Dicky and Mickey (I swear) had very kindly towed the Austin back to Mickey’s garage. The good news was that it had only taken Mickey ten minutes to diagnose an electrical malfunction; the bad news was that he’d had to order a part from Edinburgh that wasn’t going to arrive until the next morning.

Coincidentally, as Leonard had tried telling me earlier, the Austin and I had very similar prognoses. While the immediate emergency was over, thanks to antibiotics and a dangerously enjoyable level of painkillers, the doctor insisted that I stay in the hospital at least overnight for observation while they assessed whether I needed surgery.

Leonard had been waiting for me to come around, and then his plan was to catch the next bus back to Edinburgh, so he’d be back at the Soft Fudge by six, or at least very soon after. Then, in the morning, all things being well with my release, he and Norman would come back on the bus and we’d all drive back to Edinburgh as soon as the car was ready, arriving in plenty of time for Norman’s show.

Like I said, it was a good plan. On the surface. I hated the idea of not being with Norman on the night before his big show, but more than that there was the issue of Leonard’s own mental health and his suitability as a guardian, no matter how temporary. I had to admit that he was showing absolutely no signs of anything amiss and his take-charge attitude was as impressive as ever. But I did notice that he totally fobbed me off when I tried to get any kind of explanation as to why he’d disappeared at dawn from the Soft Fudge.