‘That’d be something!’ Ever the clown, Angela interrupted from behind. Now that Lionel looked as if he might live, Molly’s fellow realtor was appreciating the humour of the situation. ‘We could make him crutches like Tiny Tim carries in the Muppet Christmas Carol.’

‘Shut up, Angela.’ Molly glowered as she struggled to her feet, and she hardly noticed as Jackson’s free hand came out to steady her. This was serious. ‘You were saying, Mr Baird?’

‘I’m sure he can be fixed.’ Two heads were now bent over one tiny green tree frog, and had no thoughts of anything else.

‘We need to splint it,’ Jackson told her.

‘Crutches!’ Angela chortled. ‘I won’t be content with anything less.’ Then her laughter died. ‘Molly, you’re dripping blood on the carpet.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Molly shoved her fist into her skirt but Jackson’s hand came out and grasped hers. He held it up.

The skin had split over the knuckles and it was sluggishly bleeding. His face darkened.

‘Damn you, Roger.’

‘I was stamping on the frog. I didn’t expect the stupid girl to-’

‘It needs attention.’

‘It does not.’ Molly snatched her hand away and shoved it behind her back before he could see it further. ‘It’s only grazed. If Lionel can really be fixed-’

‘Lionel?’

‘My frog,’ she told him, and he nodded with all the gravity in the world.

‘Of course. Lionel. I see. And, yes, he can really be fixed.’

Molly looked up at Jackson as if he might be trying to trick her. ‘How do you know?’

‘There was a dam on our property when I was a kid,’ he told her, taking in the look of strain around her eyes and puzzling a little over it. ‘I spent my holidays raising tadpoles.’ And escaping his parents. ‘Anything you need to know about frogs, ask me.’

‘It can heal?’

‘It can heal.’

She took a deep breath and some of the tension eased. ‘Then I’ll take him to the vet.’