‘... oh thank God! You’re out ... you’re alive ...’
A man was crashing through the blackness towards her. He slithered into the soggy ditch, colliding with Pru and almost knocking her flat.
He clutched frenziedly at her arms.
‘Are you hurt? Are you okay? The car just skidded—’
‘I’m all right.’ Pru’s teeth were chattering. ‘My car isn’t.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.’
Pru found herself being hauled none too ceremoniously back up the slope and on to the road.
Bewildered, she wondered if this meant he was a mechanic, about to roll up his sleeves and start sorting it out this minute. But could he? Surely it was going to take more than a couple of spanners and a monkey wrench to get her car out of the ditch?
‘We’ll h-have to phone the p-police,’ she told him, struggling and failing to control her chattering teeth.
‘No need for that. I said I’d deal with everything and I will.’
‘B-but you have to inform them after an ac-ac-accident.’
His voice strained, he replied brusquely, ‘Look, never mind the police for now. It’s Arthur I’m worried about. He needs help, fast.’
Pru was confused. Had Arthur been driving the other car? Oh God, don’t say he was dead .. .
‘Quick, get in.’ The man, evidently frantic with worry, pulled open the passenger door of his car.
Pru shivered and braced herself, but there was no visible corpse. No visible anyone, for that matter.
Fearfully, wondering if she was being kidnapped by a madman, she turned and opened her mouth to say, ‘Where’s Arthur?’
Instead, getting her first glimpse of the man who had crashed into her, she exclaimed, ‘Oh thank goodness, it’s you!’
Eddie Hammond peered in turn at Pru. The light inside the car was dim and she was pretty damp and bedraggled but he recognised her finally as a member of the club. Hopefully this would go in his favour.
‘That’s right. You’re one of Dulcie’s friends.’
‘Pru. Pru Kastelitz.’ Sticking out her icy hand – and feeling idiotic – she said, ‘Phew, I was starting to get worried. Thought you might be a kidnapper.’
Eddie made his way around the front of the car – a gleaming, pillarbox-red Jaguar – and climbed into the driver’s seat. He restarted the engine.
‘Hang on.’ Looking bemused, this time Pru remembered to say it. ‘Where’s Arthur?’
‘On the back seat.’
She swivelled round in alarm.
And saw, half-hidden beneath a rumpled tartan blanket, a golden labrador. Asleep.
‘Arthur’s a dog?’
Grimly Eddie nodded. ‘He’s ill. I have to get him to the vet.’
He was reversing, putting the Jag back on course. Pm, never a tremendous dog lover, said, ‘What about my car?’
‘I’ll get it fixed.’
‘But I haven’t even locked the doors! I’ve got loads of stuff in there—’
‘Flaming Nora! What’s more important, Arthur’s life or your ... stuff?’ Eddie stared across at his passenger, exasperated. Then, remembering he mustn’t alienate her, he forced himself to smile.
‘Pru, please. Let’s get Arthur to the vet first. As soon as he’s been seen to, I’ll sort everything out with you. That’s a promise, okay?’
Feeling horribly ashamed of herself, because as far as she was concerned Arthur’s life wasn’t nearly as important as the contents of her car, Pru nodded and gave in. She couldn’t help not being keen on dogs. An unprovoked attack on her as a child by a neighbour’s Alsatian had left vivid scars on her mind as well as her arm. But to be fair, that hadn’t been Arthur’s fault.
To make up for being heartless, Pru twisted round and took another look at the animal snoring on the back seat.
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘I don’t know. I woke up half an hour ago and found him like that. Out cold on the kitchen floor.’
Eddie’s voice wavered. For an awful second Pru wondered if he was going to cry. He was desperately worried, she realised. No wonder he had been driving like a maniac along Brunton Lane.
And then, quite suddenly, something Dulcie had mentioned in passing last week popped into her head .. .
The vet, who lived above his surgery in Primrose Hill, was used to being woken up at unearthly hours by frantic pet owners.
‘He’ll live,’ he pronounced, when he had finished examining Arthur.
Arthur, opening a weary eye, looked appalled by the prospect and promptly closed it again.
‘Thank God, thank God.’ This time Eddie’s eyes filled with quivering tears of relief. ‘But what caused it? What
