They huddled around the fire: with no blankets, it would be all they had tonight to stop them freezing. Ellie eyed the split logs and broken boards Julie had retrieved, hoping they’d last till morning.

“Let’s have a look at this.” Milly folded up her puffa jacket as a pillow for Madeleine, then peeled off the vicar’s torn jacket and sweater. “Oh God.”

Surprisingly Madeleine had only sustained one major wound – the rest were scratches – but that single wound was appalling, a deep cut that ran from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, exposing bone.

“Gotta work fast here,” Milly said. “Madeleine? Hun? Can you hear me?”

Madeleine made a faint sound; Ellie leant down, their faces almost touching. Madeleine was white with shock, face slack, eyes unfocused. “Mad? How you doing?” Stupid question. “Madeleine?”

Madeleine focused blearily. “Dogs.”

Ellie found her hand, squeezed it.

“Madeleine?” said Milly. “Can you hear me, love?”

Madeleine nodded weakly. “She can hear you,” Ellie said.

“You’ve got a bad cut here, sweetheart,” said Milly. “It’s gonna need cleaning and stitching. Gonna give you something for the pain now, okay?”

“Please do,” said Madeleine faintly.

Milly unzipped a bum-bag fastened around her waist. She always kept one around the surgery, packed with medical supplies in case of emergencies. She injected lignocaine along the length of the wound, then poured spirit on a handful of cotton swabs and began cleaning it. Madeleine groaned faintly; either the lignocaine had deadened what would otherwise have been sheer agony, or she was too weak to scream. Her eyes closed.

Milly didn’t look up. “Keep an eye on her, Ell. Anyone else injured?”

“Nothing new,” said Kate Beck, wincing as she shifted nearer the fire.

“All good,” said Ernie. “Charlotte?”

The girl nodded.

“We’re okay,” said Phil. He and Julie huddled together, holding hands.

“Ell?”

“Just bruises from those things using me as a fucking trampoline. Anything I can do?”

“Hold Mad steady for me. Don’t want any sudden moves when I’m stitching her. And swab away some of the blood so I can see what the fuck I’m doing. Deep wound like this’ll need closing in layers.”

Madeleine made a faint noise in her throat as Milly pushed a suture back through the skin beside the wound; by the time Milly had finished she’d passed out, which was probably for the best. Milly cut and tied the thread, gave the wound a final swabbing, then taped dressings over it. “Cover her up and keep her warm.”

“She be okay?” said Charlotte.

“Fine, love,” Milly called. “Touch and go,” she whispered to Ellie. “Lost a lot of blood.”

Madeleine lifted her head weakly. “Ellie,” she whispered.

Ellie leant down. “The fuck were you trying to do there? Commit suicide?”

“Testing theory.”

“About what? How to get yourself killed? Congratulations, you nearly managed.”