If he’d listened to his first instincts, she’d be dead by now; a minuscule speck in that massive expanse of water. Marnie would never have known what had happened to her. She’d have carried on searching, worrying, hoping. Will could never have told her what he’d done; his shame would have been too great.

For the first time in more years than he could remember, Will was proud of himself. For once, he had done the right thing.

The boot-room door swung open. It was Marnie, pale as a ghost. She gave a gasp of relief when she saw the dog and joy flooded her face. She came over to Will, crouched beside him, lifted the dog’s head between her two hands and kissed her snout. Beneath the towel, the dog’s tail twitched. Marnie looked at her father for an explanation.

‘She’s OK,’ John told her, ‘thanks to our friend here. She was stuck in the mud but he dug her out.’

He clasped Will’s shoulder.

‘She’s just taken some warm water,’ Will said, doing his best to sound casual. ‘We think she’s going to make it.’

Emotions flickered over Marnie’s face: shock, relief and gratitude. Yet as soon as she’d convinced herself the dog was all right, her agitation returned. She signed to her father, urgently.

‘What is it?’ asked Will.

‘She says we need to get out of here.’

Will was up for that.

‘Hold on,’ said John, ‘we can’t leave the room in this mess.’ There were puddles on the floor and the area around the sink was wet and clodded with mud. ‘We can’t just walk out with Mr deVillars’ towels.’

Marnie shook her head, frustrated. She signed some more.

‘But, Marnie, I need to talk to Mr deVillars, I need to—’

Marnie gazed at her father pleadingly. He gazed back at her. As Will watched, they came to some understanding without another word being uttered.

‘OK,’ said John Morahan. ‘We’ll go together.’

Will’s clothes were soaked. His socks were wet and his bare left foot was cold and sore. His back ached from carrying the dog.

He didn’t care.

He gathered the dog up into his arms once again, and followed Marnie and John Morahan back through the downstairs of the Big House. Upstairs he could hear a murmur of voices; it sounded as if the nurse and Mr deVillars were arguing.

They went outside into the bitter cold. Marnie trotted ahead.

‘She’s going to fetch the car,’ said John. Will held the dog close, like a baby, still wrapped in her towels.