Joss’s hands gripped white on the steering-wheel. He leaned forward, trying to see through the driving rain, and his dog leaned forward with him. Bertram’s breath fogged the windscreen and Joss hauled him back.

‘There’s no need for both of us to see.’

It’d be better once they were on the highway, he told himself. Just around this bend and across the bridge and…

His foot slammed hard on the brake.

Luckily he was travelling at a snail’s pace and the car’s brakes responded magnificently. He came to a halt with inches to spare. But inches to what? Joss stared ahead in disbelief. He had to be seeing things.

He wasn’t. Ahead lay the bridge. The water was up over the timbers in a foaming, litter-filled torrent, and the middle pylon was swaying as if it had no base.

And as Joss stared, there was a screech of tortured metal, a splintering of timber and the entire bridge crumbled and buckled into the torrent beneath.

‘I can’t play bridge. I’ve promised to help Cook make scones.’

‘Oh, Amy…’

Beam me up, someone. Please beam me up…

Joss opened the car door with caution. He was safe enough where he was but seeing a bridge disappear like that made a man unsure of his own footing. Thankfully the ground underneath felt good and solid, even if a relentless stream of water began to pour down his neck the minute he opened the door.

Before him was a mess. The entire bridge was gone. In the passenger seat Bertram whimpered the unease of a dog in unfamiliar territory, and Joss leaned in to click the seat belt free.

They weren’t going anywhere fast, Joss thought grimly. Bertram was a water dog at heart, and if Joss was going to drown out here at least he’d have happy company.

‘Stupid dog. You can’t possibly like weather like this.’

He was wrong. Joss even managed a grin as Bertram put his nose skywards, opened his mouth and drank.