‘I doubt it. Look up there.’ George pointed to the heavens where angry black clouds were scudding across the sky. ‘I reckon we’re going to have a storm afore long an’ Cissie hates thunder an’ lightnin’.’

‘I’ll come with you and we’ll have a scout round for her. She can’t have gone far,’ Tom volunteered.

‘I’ll come too.’ Sunday moved towards the door but Tom shook his head. ‘No, you stay here, lass. One of the little ’uns might wake up an’ need you.’

Seeing the sense in what he said she nodded, but a knot of fear had formed in her stomach. ‘She might have taken the short-cut through the woods,’ she said then, and George scowled.

‘I’ve asked her not to go that way but you could well be right,’ he agreed and he and Tom set off. Because of the approaching storm it was unnaturally dark and by the time the men reached the edge of the woods they were wishing they had thought to bring a lantern.

‘You take that side o’ the path an’ I’ll take this,’ Tom suggested, and straining their ears for any sounds they set off below the trees, calling Cissie’s name. They were almost halfway through the woods when George said, ‘What’s that ahead? There’s somethin’ lying at the side o’ the path.’

They hurried forward and Tom was appalled to realise that it was a body. Whose he couldn’t tell, for it was far too dark by now and thunder was rolling above them … but it was definitely a woman. George was immediately in a terrible state, because he feared it might be his wife.

‘You get the top half and I’ll get the legs,’ Tom called to George above the crash of the thunder. ‘We have to get her out of here and we may as well head back to Treetops, that’s the nearest.’

Between them they lifted the dead weight and laboriously retraced their steps, but they had gone no more than a few yards when a sheet of lightning filtered through the trees and George gasped. ‘My God, it’s Cissie,’ he rasped. ‘And she’s covered in blood. She looks in a bad way, God help her.’

‘Just keep going,’ Tom answered breathlessly as a torrent of rain poured out of the black clouds and dripped through the trees onto them. ‘We need to get her back to the house as soon as possible. She must have tripped and fallen.’

Somehow they managed to get out of the woods without incident, their burden becoming heavier by the minute. They could see the lights of Treetops shining through the gloom now and redoubled their efforts to get their precious cargo out of the rain.

Before they had even reached the door, Sunday flung it open. ‘Bring her into the drawing room,’ she ordered. ‘Then you fetch the car and go into town for the doctor, Tom.’

Dripping water over the floor the two men did as they were told and once Cissie was laid gently on the sofa Tom shot away to get the doctor as George dropped to his knees at the side of his wife.