‘Thank God for that, then,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not as sure as you as to the outcome here, but he has every chance. Maybe…maybe for once in this country I’ve done something right.’

Three hundred miles away the girl lay beneath her bedcovers and shivered. It was hot out here-so hot-and for her family to afford air-conditioning was unthinkable. But despite the heat, she couldn’t stop shivering.

Her baby…

Dead.

‘Sweetheart?’ It was her mother, knocking on her door for what must be the sixth time since they’d got home from the rodeo. ‘Are you OK?’

She sounded worried. That was a laugh. When had her mother ever worried about her?

‘Go away.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve got my period. I feel sick. Go away.’

Her mother hesitated and Megan could hear the fear in her voice. ‘You’re not well enough to feed the poddy calves, then?’

‘No. Go away.’

‘But your father…’

She roused herself-or she tried to-but the tiredness washing over her body was overwhelming.

‘I know Dad’s sick,’ she whispered, loudly enough for her mother to hear through the battered farmhouse door. ‘I know you’ve got too much to do to manage. But, Mum, I can’t. I just can’t. For tonight you’ll just have to manage without me.’

When she’d done all she could do, Gina stepped away from the table. Her face said it all. Her eyes were drained, her expression slack with exhaustion. She’d called on every resource she had, and then some.

‘Can I leave it to you now?’ she asked, unsteadily into the stillness. ‘I’ll be outside. Call me on the PA if you need me. I won’t go away. But I need…some air.’

‘You deserve some air,’ Emily said warmly. ‘You even deserve something a bit stronger, like a stiff drink or a cigar. Off you go, Dr Lopez. Cal and I will take it from here. But thank God you were here.’