The spaniel’s owner-a girl of maybe fifteen or so-was the one who’d screamed in terror. She was no longer screaming. She was trying desperately to separate them. As Rachel started forward-no!-the girl grabbed the pit bull’s collar and hauled. The dog snarled and twisted away from the spaniel-and bit.

‘No!’

Rachel was screaming at her to stop-to let go. She was running, but it was a good fifty yards back to the entrance to the pavilion.

The man-Hugo-was before her. The dogs were everywhere-a mass of writhing bodies with the girl beneath…

She had to get them apart. The girl would be killed. Rachel dived to grab a collar to pull the pit bull from the girl, but her arm was caught.

‘Keep back!’ Hugo’s harsh command had the power to make her pause. He was reaching for a hose snaking across the entrance and he hauled it forward. ‘Turn it on.’

She saw instantly what he wanted and dived for the tap. Two seconds later the tap was turned to full power. The massive hose, used to blast out the mess in the pavilion after showtime, was directed full at the dogs.

Nothing else could have separated them. The blast hit the pit bull square on the muzzle and drove him back. The hose turned to the spaniel, but he was already whimpering in retreat, badly bitten by the pit bull, while Rachel launched herself at the prone body of the girl.

‘Her leg…’ she breathed.

The girl’s leg was spurting bright arterial blood, a vast pulsating stream. Oh, God, had the dog torn the femoral artery? She’d die in minutes.

The dog had lunged at her upper leg and the girl had been wearing shorts! Dear heaven…

‘Someone, get my bag. Fast! Run!’ Hugo was shouting with urgency. ‘The car’s by the kiosk.’ Car keys were tossed into the crowd-swiftly, because Hugo’s hands were already trying to exert pressure. Rachel was hauling her T-shirt over her head. They needed something for a pressure pad-anything-and decency came a very poor second to lifesaving.