couldn’t answer. Couldn’t tell him that she’d just leave him out there if he didn’t return.
‘Have you got that, Neve? Say it…’
‘Got it, Joe.’ It wasn’t going to happen. It was only a mile. He could walk that, even in these conditions.
‘Good.’ Another pause, as Joe caught his breath. ‘See you soon.’
She wanted to tell him to come back to her, but she couldn’t find a way to say it. ‘Yeah. Very soon.’ She almost choked on the words. And then determination took over. ‘Stay on the line, Joe. I’m going to keep talking…’
‘Yeah… Good girl…’
‘Girl?’ She grinned desperately at her phone. ‘I’ll give you girl, Joe Lamont. You get back here now, and I’ll show you…’ Just how much of a woman she was.
‘Yes, ma’am…’
‘Shut up and walk…’
Nancy’s husband Daryl had been summoned from his workshop, which lay thirty feet to the rear of the house, but there was nothing that he could do, other than wait. Neve sent him inside with Nancy, asking them to stay by the phone and keep Maisie updated. She stayed in the car, talking to Joe, straining her eyes into the increasing gloom for any sign of him.
He was beginning to weaken. She could hear it in the few words that he managed to spare for her. His voice was shaking from the cold, and from the effort of walking through the snow. Neve looked at her watch. He must be close by now. Maybe if she went to the edge of the beam of the car headlamps, she’d see him.
Joe had told her to stay here. Ordered her to stay here, actually. And she’d obeyed him. When had that started to happen? The inevitable consequences of that particular slippery slope were suddenly forgotten. She caught her breath, staring into the swirling snow, and slowly the shapes of two men became visible. Joe’s jacket was wrapped around the bundle in his arms, which must be the child. A man stumbled alongside him, relying on him for both support and direction.
‘I see you, Joe…’
He didn’t reply. Just kept walking. Neve wrenched the car door open, stumbling towards Joe, vaguely aware that Daryl had appeared from the house and was running towards the small group. They both reached them at the same time and Daryl took the man’s arm, winding it around his shoulders and supporting him towards the house.
She took Joe’s arm, and he seemed to straighten, relieved of the burden of the man he’d been supporting. Something stopped Neve from taking the bundle from his arms. He’d carried the boy for a long, painful mile, and he deserved to be the one to bring him inside.
When Nancy ushered them into the hallway, Joe gave up his precious cargo, delivering the boy into Neve’s arms. ‘The boy… Charlie. Four years old… F-father… Michael.’
Neve felt Charlie moving fitfully against her. Quickly she looked around, assessing the situation as best she could. Joe’s waterproof trousers and heavy boots had kept his legs dry, but his sweater was wringing wet and he was shivering, from cold and exhaustion. Michael had a heavy coat on and seemed dry, but looked near to collapse.
‘Daryl, take Michael through to the sitting room. Nancy, will you help Joe, please? Get those wet clothes off him.’ Neve followed Daryl through, laying Charlie down on the blankets that were warming by the fire.
Carefully she stripped the boy of his coat and wellingtons. By some miracle, Charlie was dry. It was a hard-won miracle, though. His father must have carried him for miles to keep his legs dry in the snow, and Joe had wrapped his own coat around him to protect him from the snowstorm.
Daryl was helping Michael off with his coat and into a chair by the fireside. ‘Daryl, will you check that none of Michael’s clothes are wet, please? I’ll come and look at him in a minute.’
‘No… See to Charlie. Please…’ Michael’s agonised voice.
‘That’s what I’m doing, Michael. Stay where you are and rest now.’
Neve had already taken the things she’d need from her medical bag and they lay ready for her. Quickly she checked Charlie’s pulse and reactions. Good. Better than she’d hoped. The low-temperature thermometer read 32 degrees. Much better than she’d dared hope.
All the same, she followed the guidelines for a more severe case. Wrapping the baby hot-water bottles that Nancy had prepared, she placed them under his arms and at his groin. Then she wrapped Charlie’s body in the duvet, leaving his arms and legs free.
A tear squeezed from beneath Charlie’s closed eyelids, and Neve bent over him to hold him still and give him some comfort. ‘Okay, Charlie. You’re all right. Lie still for me, sweetheart.’
‘Dad…’ The little boy let out a whimper, which stretched into a moan.
‘Charlie…’ Michael’s voice came from behind her.
‘Your dad’s here, you can see him in a minute.’ Charlie’s eyes opened. Took their time focussing on her, but surely and steadily found her smile. ‘Hello, there, sweetie.’
‘Charlie… do what the doctor tells you, darling. Daddy’s here…’ Michael’s voice broke, as if he was crying.
‘He’s doing well, Michael. You did a good job, keeping him dry. He has mild hypothermia, but I’m warming him now and he should be fine.’ Neve allowed herself to hope that the worst was over.
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