‘Okay, Laura. Very slowly, go outside and call this in — both police and a psych team. Meanwhile, I’ll try to keep him stable.’ She made to protest, but he shook his head vehemently and hissed, ‘Just go!’

Laura took herself outside. As soon as she had gone, Sam sat at the table, opposite Shields.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Shields lifted his head, stared at Sam and blinked, as if waking from a deep sleep. ‘Professor Page? What are you doing here? I didn’t know you knew my mother. Has she made you tea?’ He sniffed. ‘Oh dear, I think she’s let the milk go off.’

Another long silence.

Suddenly Shields looked around. ‘Why are we in Mother’s home?’ He frowned. ‘And what is that terrible smell?’

He started to get up, but Sam held up his hand. ‘Relax for a moment, Mr Shields. You’ve been asleep. We’ll sort all this out in a moment.’ He reached across the table and gently patted Shields’s arm. ‘Sit down again.’

Shields perched on the edge of his chair. He looked at Sam, his eyes wild. ‘I need to check on my mother. She might be ill, she might need me.’

‘It’s all right. Your mother doesn’t need you right now. Just relax.’

‘I’ve had another episode, haven’t I?’

There was a frantic, scared look in his eyes, and something else that Sam couldn’t quite equate. Any moment now, the volcano would erupt. He just hoped that Laura had been able to make that call.

Shields leaped up, his chair crashing to the floor. He ran into the lounge. After a moment of silence, Sam heard a terrible, ear-splitting wail.

‘Mother!’

* * *

Having called the police and the psych team and unable to bear the thought of Sam alone in there with Shields, Laura was about to go back in when a terrible cry rent the air and stopped her in her tracks. The door burst open and she was pushed roughly to the ground, her head hitting the concrete path. She groaned and lay still for a moment before she eased herself up.

‘Sam!’ she murmured, and pulled herself to her feet. ‘Sam!’

‘I’m okay, it’s all right.’ Sam staggered out of the door, holding his arm to his side. ‘He pushed me into the work surface. I’ve hit my damaged arm, that’s all.’ He stared at her anxiously. ‘You’re bleeding! Laura, there’s a lump the size of a duck egg. You need to get checked out, my girl!’

She tried to argue but was swept by a wave of nausea.

Sam led her to a garden bench, and they sat down. ‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ he said, pulling out his mobile.

‘And you need that arm looked at, Sam. Oh dear, what have I got us into?’