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to faint, boy. There’s a telephone behind you. Dial 999. Tell them we need a doctor. Don’t forget to give them the address and say I told you it’s life or death, and we’re going to need an ambulance …’
    ‘Uncle Huw?’
    A small boy dressed in pyjamas a couple of sizes too big for him, holding the hand of an even smaller girl, appeared behind the young policeman in the passage.
    ‘Billy,’ Huw attempted a smile as he lowered his voice, ‘what are you doing up at this time of night?’
    ‘Mam …’
    ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Billy.’ Huw signalled to Hopkins frantically with his eyes. ‘Take Catrina upstairs. I’ll be there as soon as I can. After you’ve called 999 see they get to bed,’ he murmured under his breath to the constable, as he tried to block Billy’s view of Diana with his body. ‘Then telephone Ronconi’s Tumble café. Tell them what’s happened and that we need a babysitter – urgently.’
    Angelo could hear Tina giggling and William laughing as he ran up the stairs. It was obvious what they were doing but need overrode embarrassment and he hammered resolutely on their bedroom door.
    ‘Whoever that is, go away!’ Tina shouted.
    ‘We’re dead,’ Will added.
    ‘Police phoned, Diana’s had an accident.’
    Quicker than Will, Tina wrapped herself in the patchwork bedspread and jerked open the door.
    ‘What kind of accident?’
    ‘I don’t know because I couldn’t get much sense out of the man I spoke to. All I know is Huw said he needed both of you, quick.’
    Pale and trembling, Hopkins was standing guard outside Laura’s house, keeping a small crowd of neighbours at bay when Andrew slowed his car to a halt. He didn’t waste time on preliminaries.
    ‘Mrs Ronconi’s in the kitchen,’ he announced as Andrew and Bethan stepped out.
    ‘The children?’ Bethan asked.
    ‘They’re unhurt. Constable Davies had me telephone the café. Mr and Mrs Powell are on their way up to look after them. He thinks it best you go straight to the kitchen, Nurse John.’
    Laura’s normally immaculate kitchen was in uproar. The window frame was smashed to pieces, slivers of glass and wood scattered over the sill and floor; the table was on its side, the easy chair upturned, half the crockery had fallen from the dresser and was lying, shattered on the flagstoned floor. Covered in blood, Ronnie was kneeling in the centre of the confusion, cradling Diana in his arms.
    ‘Ronnie.’ Bethan kneeled beside him, gently moving him back so Andrew could examine Diana. ‘I didn’t know you were home.’
    Ignoring her, he continued to nurse Diana.
    ‘Has an ambulance been sent for?’
    Reading the urgency in Andrew’s voice, Bethan rose to her feet. ‘I’ll check.’
    ‘It’s bad?’ Huw asked Bethan.
    ‘It’s not good.’ Bethan knew Huw too well to lie. ‘We need to get her to an operating theatre as soon as we can. You’ve sent for an ambulance?’
    He nodded, ‘It’ll be here in ten minutes.’
    ‘What the hell happened?’
    ‘I wish I knew. I only got here a few minutes ago. A neighbour heard a fracas and called the station. Ronnie hasn’t said a word since I’ve been here.’
    ‘He’s in shock …’
    ‘Bethan?’
    Alerted by the alarm in Andrew’s voice, she turned back to see blood pumping out of Diana’s arm, soaking the rug and flagstones. Opening Andrew’s bag she removed a tourniquet.
    ‘The ambulance should be here in ten minutes.’
    ‘Let’s hope she lasts that long.’
    Bethan pushed down hard on the pressure point in the crook of Diana’s elbow as Andrew tied the rubber tubing tightly on Diana’s upper arm. Steeling herself, Bethan cast a professional eye over her cousin. It was difficult to see past the blood and glass splinters to assess the damage. Either Ronnie or Huw had pressed a tea towel on the side of Diana’s head. Seeing her looking, Andrew moved it slightly. Bethan only just managed to stop herself from crying out. There was a gap in