“I wouldn’t mind so much if you’d take that off it.” He had a point, given that the hat was Soviet-era Red Army surplus, complete with a hammer-and-sickle-emblazoned red star badge Ellie had never trusted herself to remove without tearing a gaping hole. “Ernie Stasiolek’s gonna think you’re the bloody Stasi one of these days and take a pot at you.”

“Ernie Stasiolek’s Polish, Tom. The Stasi were East German.”

“All right, clever clogs.” Tom took a step towards the kids and called out. “This way, you two. Nice cup of tea when we get in, eh?”

He probably hadn’t even noticed the cups they were already holding, but you could never have enough hot drinks on a day like this. The kids followed him back to the X5 as Milly Emmanuel climbed out of it, hidden under multiple layers of clothing culminating in a neon pink puffa jacket and matching ski-hat that rendered her almost globular. She waved to Ellie and waddled over as Tom managed a clumsy three-point turn before driving back up the hill road towards Barsall.

“Afternoon, Constable,” she called.

“All right, Doc. Got enough layers on?”

“It’s all right for you. My Dad was from Jamaica, remember? I’m not half fucking penguin like you are. So where’s the patient?”

Ellie pointed. Milly peered over the crash barrier. “Think we might be a bit late to help.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Many a true word.”

“Oh, sod off.”

“So what’s the plan? Please tell me you can call someone in.”

Ellie shook her head. “Phone and radio reception’s up and down like a whore’s drawers and the main roads are snowed up anyway.”

Milly groaned. “Don’t suppose we could just shovel a bit more snow over him and leave him till the spring?”

“I wish.”

“Great. So, heavy lifting duty, then?”

“That and your medical expertise, Doc.”

“I’m not a pathologist –”

“You’re the closest I’ve got.”

“Fair enough.” Milly’s breath billowed in the air. “But you’d better have some decent wine in for later.”

“Do my best. Got some hot chocolate in the meantime, if you want it.”

They got in the Land Rover and Ellie drove down to the bottom of the hill road. She cleared space in the back, spread a blanket out there, folded another over her arm and picked up a small black pack. She opened it and checked the contents – latex gloves, evidence baggies, a pair of small flashlights – then slung it over her shoulder and turned away. Ellie wasn’t expecting to find any evidence of foul play – chances were a drunk had slipped and fallen on the path, and the cold had done the rest – but it was best to be prepared.