He wasn’t bleeding.

She was due in court in ten minutes. Help.

What to do with a dog?

She put a hand on his head and gave him a tentative pat. Very tentative. If she moved him, maybe she’d hurt him. Maybe he’d hurt her.

He wiggled his head to the side and she tried scratching behind his ear. That seemed to be appreciated. His eyes were huge, brown and limpid. He had a raggedy tail and he gave it a tentative wag.

His eyes didn’t leave hers. His eyes were…were…

Let’s cut out the emotion here, she told herself hastily. This dog is nothing to do with you.

She fumbled under the dog for the door catch and climbed out of the car. The dog’s backside sort of slumped as she lifted him. Actually, both ends slumped.

She carried him back to Raff. The little dog looked up at her and his tail still wagged. It seemed a half-hearted wag, as if he wasn’t at all sure where he was but he sort of hoped things might be okay.

She felt exactly the same.

Raff was back in the middle of the crashed cars. ‘Raff, I can’t…’ she called.

Raff had given up trying to get Mrs Ford to steer. He had hold of her steering wheel and was steering himself, pushing at the same time, moving the car to the kerb all by himself. ‘Can’t what?’ he demanded.

‘I can’t take this dog anywhere.’

‘Henrietta says it’s okay,’ Raff snapped. ‘It’s the only one she’s caught. She’s trying to round up the others. Come on, Abby, the road’s clear-how hard is this? Just take him to the vet.’

‘I’m due in court in ten minutes.’

‘So am I.’ Raff shoved Mrs Ford’s car another few feet and then paused for breath. ‘If you think I’ve spent years getting Wallace Baxter behind bars, just to see you and your prissy boyfriend get him off because I can’t make it…’

‘Cut it out, Raff.’

‘Cut what out?’

‘He’s not prissy,’ she snapped. ‘And he’s not my boyfriend. You know he’s my fiancé.’