“Thanks,” Norah yelled. She didn’t seem to have registered who was with her. She was working frantically with a pair of pliers, twisting wire, trying to make the pen safe.

“Give them to me,” Gavin yelled, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the elements and Osbert at full blast. “Give them to me.”

She did so, and he fought to bring the edges of wire together and fix them. The wire seemed to fight back, jabbing him with sharp spikes until he was bleeding, but at last he finished the job. He found he was breathing hard and sat back for a moment. He could see her in the headlights, her dark hair plastered to her skull by the rain, and to his startled gaze she seemed to be naked. Then he saw that she was wearing a short nightdress that was soaked and clinging to her body, hiding nothing. With a slight start he realized that she was beautiful. Then he pulled himself together and averted his gaze.

He began to say “Right, that’s it,” when he was startled by the noise of something crashing, followed by a hideous braying sound. “Good grief! What’s that?”

“It sounds like Buster. He must have got out.”

“All right. Let’s go and catch him.”

“I’ll catch him. You use the car to give me some light.”

He got behind the wheel and found that his sodden jacket was horribly uncomfortable. He tore it off and turned the vehicle around in a search for Buster. He found the donkey at last and began to chase him, with Norah darting in and out of the beams from the headlamps. In the eerie light she looked more naked than ever, as she twisted and turned, making vain attempts to bring the maddened animal under control. He wished he could avert his eyes again, and at the same moment he was glad that duty obliged him to look ahead.

After ten minutes of this they were no nearer to getting Buster back. Gavin got out of the car. “This is useless,” he shouted. “If you do recapture him, you’ll probably find that Mack has vanished in the meantime.”

“Mack!” she cried. “That’s a wonderful idea. Gavin, you’re a genius!”

“Am I? Thanks!” he muttered.

Norah vanished back into the storm, leaving Gavin and Buster eyeing each other in mutual distrust. Once he tried to take the donkey by surprise, but Buster made off, leading him a merry dance until they were both breathless and Buster was as free as ever. It was a relief when Norah reappeared with Mack on her shoulder, clinging to her.

At once it was clear where Gavin’s “genius” lay. Mack gave a squeak and launched himself onto Buster’s back. Norah clapped her hands to lure him toward her and at once Mack, riding Buster like a jockey, guided him in the right direction, and into the pen. Norah fixed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard with relief.

Gavin realized that the wind had dropped and the rain abated to a light drizzle. “That’s it,” he said. “You can’t do any more tonight.”

“I guess not,” Norah said with a sigh. “The poor creatures, they were so scared. I’ve taken most of them indoors.”

“Yes, Iris told me. She said Peter was looking after them.”

“They’ll be all right with him. They trust him.”

“Come on, let’s go back.”

She started to walk beside him, but at once he realized she was limping. “Have you hurt your foot?”

“No, but I lost my slippers in the mud, and the ground is a bit stony just here.” She winced as she set one foot gingerly to the ground.

“You’ll take an hour at that pace,” Gavin said. “Put your arms around my neck.”

Norah had obeyed before she quite knew what she was doing. The next moment he’d lifted her in his arms and was carrying her back to the house. “Gallantry? From you?” she said, clinging on tight.

“Shut up!” he growled, and was disconcerted by the tremor that went through her body as she chuckled. The tremor communicated itself to him, going through him again and again until his flesh was singing. He knew he should put her down at the first possible moment, but instead something impelled him to keep hold of her right across the hall and up the stairs. Norah was giving him a startled look, as if wondering how far he would go.

He kicked open the door of her room, carried her inside and kicked it shut again. “Take those wet things off,” he ordered.

“Just a minute-”

“Take them off. If you can do it to me, I can do it to you.”

“But you were asleep,” she pointed out.

“Take them off before I take them off you,” he said firmly.

He went past her into the bathroom and turned on the hot shower. Returning to the bedroom he found her still dithering uncertainly and a madness came over him. He seized the hem of the short nightdress and pulled it over her head. He had a momentary glimpse of a beautiful naked body, then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. “Under that water,” he ordered.

She obeyed and pulled the glass door closed behind her. Gavin resisted the temptation to admire her outline through the misty glass and left the bathroom to hurry out into the corridor. To his relief he saw Mrs. Stone just reaching the top of the stairs. “Thank heavens,” he said. “Could you get some hot milk for Norah, please?”

“I’m afraid I’ve finished for the day,” Mrs. Stone said severely.

“What? But you’re the housekeeper, aren’t you?”

“I am indeed, but that doesn’t mean I’m available at all hours,” Mrs. Stone said severely. “That, if I may say so, is too common a misconception. My hours were clearly laid down when I took the job and it was understood that under no circumstances-”

Unable to stem the flow, Gavin resorted to charging across it. “But this is a crisis,” he roared.

“Late-night crises are extremely common in this place, which is why I took the precaution of making it plain at the outset that under no circumstances-”

“Forget it,” Gavin snapped and raced downstairs. He found Iris waddling across the hall with a baby badger in her arms. “I need some hot milk-” he started to say.

“In the kitchen,” she called out as she sailed past with the badger leaning over her shoulder.

From somewhere at Gavin’s feet, Osbert honked.

“And you can keep your opinions to yourself,” Gavin informed him. He strode into the kitchen and looked around him helplessly at the glittering technology. A shadow appeared in the doorway, and he turned and saw Peter. “Trying to get a mug of hot milk in this place is like trying to get blood from a stone,” he growled. “In fact, it’s exactly like trying to get blood from a stone. Mrs. Stone. That woman is well named. D’you know, I asked her for some hot milk for Norah and she stood there lecturing me about her hours? I could have strangled her.”

Peter nodded and smiled. There was real sympathy and amusement in that smile, and it gave Gavin a pleasurable shock. He didn’t realize that in his agitation he’d forgotten to be self-conscious with Peter, and had simply spoken to him as naturally as he would have done anyone else. “You too, huh?” he asked, and Peter nodded again.

The next moment Peter had gone to the fridge, taken out the milk and poured some into a pan. Gavin watched him. After his recent experience, he was inclined to view his son’s ability to heat milk with a kind of awe.

While the milk was warming Peter thrust a towel at his father. Gavin seized it and rubbed his head dry, but Peter hadn’t finished. He pointed at the sodden shirt and indicated for it to be taken off. Gavin meekly obeyed and dried his torso thankfully. He had the same feeling of being mother-henned that he’d had with Norah.

He watched as Peter ladled three large spoonfuls of sugar into a mugful of milk, added some cocoa and presented him with the result. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s just what Norah needs. You’d better make some for yourself as well.”

Peter half turned to the stove, then something seemed to strike him and he looked back at his father inquiringly. Gavin looked back, puzzled, but when Peter pointed at him he at last understood. “Me? No, I haven’t drunk cocoa in years-yes, please, I will have some. Thank you, son.”

He wondered where his wits had been wandering, to have slipped up in such a way. Peter had actually made an approach to him and he’d nearly missed it, but a kindly fate had warned him in time. He accepted a mug from Peter’s hand and sipped it gently. It was dark, sweet and, to his palate, disgusting, but he smiled and said enthusiastically, “That’s great. You make a terrific cocoa. I’ll tell Norah you made this. Better go to bed now.” But Peter shook his head. “No? All right. You do what you feel you have to. I guess you know best.” He backed hastily out of the kitchen, terrified of doing or saying the wrong things and so ruining the little progress they’d made.

He reached Norah’s room to find her sitting on the bed wrapped in warm nightgown and robe. “Drink this,” he said, pressing a cup into her hand.

She sipped it and made a face. “Peter’s a dear, but he will swamp everything with sugar.”

“I know,” he said with feeling. “I’ve got some, too. What’s more, I’m going to drink it.”

“You could always throw it down the basin,” she suggested, testing him. “I wouldn’t tell.”

“But I’d know,” Gavin pointed out. “Besides, Peter went to a lot of trouble to make it for me.” He took a deep breath and said bravely, “I’m going to drink it.”

“Good for you.” She took another sip. “Bless him. He’s going to turn into one of those men who actually know how to look after people.”

“I suppose he learned that from Tony,” Gavin couldn’t resist saying.

“No, I think he probably inherited it from you,” she said with meaning.

As always, when she was nice to him he felt as awkward as a schoolboy. He took refuge in a large mouthful of cocoa. When he came up for air he found her still looking at him, with eyes that were kind. “I haven’t thanked you for helping me yet,” she said. “Normally Grim’s a tower of strength in an emergency, but after his accident-well, I needed another tower, and there you were.”