She could afford to be magnanimous about her stupid name. Almost. If she hadn’t been so fond of her mum and dad and her grandma she would have changed it years ago. But by deed poll. Not by marriage. ‘Daughter will do,’ she told him. ‘That’s the one.’

‘You’re the new locum, then?’ he demanded, his voice incredulous, and she sat back and surveyed him some more. And worried some more. She had more to concentrate on now than her entirely inappropriate name.

‘I’ll find something to splint that leg and then we’ll try and roll you over.’

‘But you are the doctor we’re expecting?’

‘I am.’ She was searching the roadside. A branch had fallen from the cliff-top and it had crashed down, splintering into what she needed-a mass of wood of various lengths and thickness. Something here would do. She needed to roll him to check for further injuries but she wanted that leg immobile first.

At least the man was sensible. His voice was strong enough. With no blood, ease of breathing and fully conscious…she hadn’t killed him and it didn’t look like she was going to.

Locum. He’d said locum. He’d recognised her name?

‘You knew I was coming?’ She left him for a moment to think about it while she fetched her doctor’s bag from the back of the car. Returning to kneel beside him, she located a syringe from the bag and fitted it with a morphine vial. By the time she had the needle ready, he had his answer ready. He might be conscious but he was still dazed.

‘Yeah, I knew you were coming. Of course I did.’

‘I’m just giving you something for the pain.’

‘Morphine?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Five milligrams.’

‘I thought ten,’ she told him. ‘I need to move you and it’s going to hurt.’

‘Five.’

‘Hey, who’s the doctor here?’

‘I am,’ he told her, and she paused, her syringe held to the light, and stared at the head in the mud.