When she removed the dressings the stench worsened. The skin around the wound was livid scarlet, raised thin threads following the veins, and the cut itself had risen up into a ridge, as if she was transforming into something reptilian. Ellie shook her head; the situation was bad enough without adding that into the mix, and anything seemed possible now.

The stitches had pulled tight, gummed and crusted with pus. “Infected?” said Ellie.

“The fuck d’you think, Ell? Kate, can you fetch me backpack? And some hot water?”

“What can we do for her?” Ellie said. “Anything?”

Milly shook her head. “Antibiotics, pain relief, plenty of fluid and keep her warm. And then pray. This is nasty shit and it’s worked bloody fast.”

Kate brought the backpack; Milly rummaged through it and took out a packet of pills. “Bout the strongest we’ve got, here.” She surveyed Madeleine’s wound dolefully. “And I thought it was the new bugs we had to worry about.”

“Eh?”

“Antibiotic resistance,” said Milly. “We’ve been seeing more and more antibiotic-resistant germ strains, and we haven’t developed any new antibiotics in years. One of the big worries, that – one of those starting an epidemic. Whatever germs they’ve given her, though, I’m guessing they’re bloody old ones. Just as bad, by the look of it.” She put the pack aside.

Kate came back with Noel, who carried a steaming Pyrex jug. Milly squirted sanitiser gel onto her hands. “Here we go.”

She washed and cleaned Madeleine’s wound: the vicar moaned at her touch, sweating more fiercely than ever, webs of hair glued to her cheek and forehead. Even cleaned, the wound looked little better, still horribly ridged and swollen and red. Milly applied ointment, then a new set of dressings. “Sit her up,” she said.

Noel propped Madeline upright, wrapping a blanket round her. Madeleine shivered, eyes half-open, rolled back in her head. “Mad? Just need you to swallow something for me.” Milly half-grinned. “Like the bishop said to the actress. Mad?”

Madeleine blinked, then finally focused on her.

“That’s my girl. Okay. We’ve got painkillers and antibiotics. Need to get them down you, okay?”

“Fiat lux,” said Madeleine.

“Eh? Madeleine, can you understand me?”

“Uh. Yeah. Milly?”

“Yeah. Okay, painkillers first.”

Milly had put a couple of canned drinks in the backpack as well; Ellie didn’t know if they were for her or her patients. She popped one open. “Hope you like Cherry Coke.”

“Fucking hate it,” Madeleine said.

Ellie had to laugh.

“Well, think of it as medicine, cock. ‘Sides, it’s sugar. You need the fuel. Here.”

Once Madeleine had forced down the pills, Milly helped her lie down on her side. “How you feeling now?”

Madeleine shivered, teeth chattering. “Fucking wretched.”