She shoved the shirt into Hugo’s hands and Hugo wasn’t asking questions. He grabbed the T-shirt and pushed.

‘Kim, don’t move,’ Hugo was saying, and with a jolt Rachel realised he was talking to the girl. He was good, this man. Even in extremis he found time to tell his patient what was happening. ‘Your leg’s been badly bitten and we need to stop the bleeding. I know it hurts like hell but someone’s gone for painkillers. Just a few short minutes before we can ease the pain for you, Kim. I promise.’

Could she hear? Rachel didn’t know and she had to concentrate on her own role. Hugo would want a more solid pad than one T-shirt could provide. She stared up into the crowd. ‘Michael,’ she yelled. Hugo was too busy applying pressure to haul off his shirt and he needed something to make a pad. And Michael could help with more than a shirt. He had the skills.

But Michael was gone.

It couldn’t matter. ‘Take mine.’ A burly farmer had seen her need and was hauling off his shirt. She accepted with gratitude, coiling it into a pad.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her overnight bag, sprawled and open in the dust where she’d dropped it as she’d lunged for the tap. More clothes. Great. As Hugo looked up, searching for whatever she had, she handed him a pad. She made another with what was in the bag. Then she shoved the pad hard down over his and pressed. He pressed with her. Even their combined effort wasn’t enough to stop the flow.

‘I need forceps,’ he said grimly. ‘My bag…’

‘Clive’s gone to fetch it,’ the farmer told them, hovering over both doctors as they worked, his face ashen with concern. ‘He’ll be back any minute. He’s the fastest runner.’