Gerry shrugged a little and made a look that said the same. Agnes Root was watching them from the steps, making Katie uneasy as she drove off.

All she’d gotten out of Billy was that he wanted Bart home. Well now they were going to fetch him maybe it would cheer Billy up. She strapped a resistant Jess into the toddler’s seat and headed for the vet’s. Just keep on going, Katie, she thought. Just keep on going with these familiar family routines and you won’t have to think about it. Any of it. At least that was the theory. The practice was different. How could she stop thinking about where Sam was that night?

Her hand had hovered over the phone so many times this afternoon, to call home and hear his voice. But what if the phone rang out? What if he wasn’t there? Did she ever know where he was now, what he was doing?

‘Will Bart be okay, Mom?’

‘Sure. He’ll be fine. I guess he’s just got a cold or something.’

‘Huskies don’t get colds.’

‘Whatever.’

They were there. Billy started to undo his seat belt.

‘Ah ah. You stay with Jess. I’ll just be a minute. Get the back ready for him with that blanket would you?’

Billy sighed but obeyed. She didn’t want him there in case it was bad news. You never could tell these days. Seemed like they were cultivating bad news in the Hunt house like most people grew geraniums. She grabbed her pocket-book and dashed through the falling snow to the surgery.

There were two miserable-looking clients waiting on the metal-backed chairs, one with a mewling kitten in a basket and the other without an animal, presumably like herself waiting to pick one up.

The receptionist was doing that really annoying thing of not looking up from the form she was filling in even when Katie was standing right in front of her. Don’t push me, honey, thought Katie, not today.

‘Bart Hunt. Husky. Here to pick him up.’

The woman looked up surprised that she’d been addressed without permission. Most people stood patiently and waited until she chose to raise her eyes. She was about to give this blonde uppity bitch a hard time when she realized it was the owner of that dog. Mr Adler had told her he wanted to talk to her himself.

‘Take a seat.’

Katie looked at her coldly and replied as though the receptionist were four. ‘You mean take a seat, please.’

The woman flushed, glancing sideways to see if the other two clients had heard her admonishment. Sure they had. They’d loved it.

‘Please.’