‘Busy,’ she said crisply, hiding the pain in her own voice. She wasn’t letting this man know she’d been silly. She’d thought she could do the house call. But the morphine had worn off and in the end it had been all she could do not to pass out from the pain. ‘How’s the boy? Eileen says you have him stabilised and the antivenom’s working.’

‘Yes. Abbey, did you do that damned house call? Are you crazy?’ Rod, the head of the lifesavers, had climbed out of the driver’s seat and was watching Ryan and Abbey with interest, but Ryan only had eyes for Abbey.

‘Mrs Miller wanted to see me,’ Abbey said defensively.

‘Abbey, she wanted you to dress her ulcer. For heaven’s sake…’

‘No, she didn’t,’ Abbey said flatly. ‘At least, that wasn’t the main reason she wanted to see me. She wanted to tell me something.’

‘What?’

‘I still don’t know,’ Abbey confessed. ‘Rod was there-well, he had to be-and she clammed up.’

‘So you’ve been wandering round the country-Abbey, you were knocked cold when you came off that bike-and you’ve been sitting, drinking tea-’

‘How did you know I’ve been drinking tea?’

‘Haven’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but-’

‘I guessed,’ Ryan said, goaded beyond belief. ‘I remember Margaret Miller. Abbey, you are ill and Marg Miller isn’t.’

‘No, but there’s something wrong.’

‘But you don’t know what?’

‘No. But I’ll find out.’

‘She made me carry her into the kitchen so she could have a cup of tea with the old lady,’ Rod said blankly, helping Ryan lift Abbey onto the trolley. ‘Doc Wittner propped her leg up on a kitchen chair and went at it like there was nothing wrong. The old lady had the whole thing set up-best china, scones and jam and cream-’

‘And I suppose you ate them?’ Ryan barked.

‘Of course I did.’ Abbey glared. ‘Marg would have been hurt if I hadn’t.’

‘And what if I have to give you a general anaesthetic?’