you imagine anyone carrying that dog further than he had to?’
‘That’ll be it,’ Kim said, relieved. She glanced at her watch. ‘Look, I’m having a bit of trouble here. My cow’s had her calf but I need to go back and check on her again. I took a few minutes off to check on Phoebe but…’
‘But if we can’t find her-’
‘I’ll be back in half an hour,’ Kim said. ‘Or I’m on the end of a mobile phone. Call me if you need me.’
‘I’ll go and call Jim,’ Harry said. The door had closed behind Kim, but Lizzie was still standing looking at the place where Phoebe’s basket had been.
She shouldn’t have left her.
It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. Jim had taken the dog to take care of her. She’d left her for half an hour and the vet had said it’d be OK. She wasn’t irresponsible.
This was Grandma’s dog. She’d cared for Grandma and therefore she was responsible for Grandma’s dog.
No. It was more than that, she thought savagely. Responsibility didn’t come into it any more.
It was Phoebe herself. Her great dopey basset with the Dalmatian tail. She’d tried so hard to stay dispassionate. She’d tried. It hadn’t worked. She’d fallen for a great lumbering hound of a mutt. She’d fallen for a community.
She’d fallen for a doctor called Harry.
His hand was still on her shoulder and he was watching her, his eyes steady and warm and reassuring, and she wanted to turn into his shoulder and weep. She wanted to hold on and hold on and not let go.
No. She had Phoebe to worry about. Everything else had to be put on the back burner for now.
Or… Everything else had to be put on the back burner for ever.
She hauled herself away from him and she could only hope that he didn’t guess what a Herculean task it was to step away from the warmth those arms promised.
‘Find Jim,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll have a look outside. Just in case.’
‘Just in case your dog decided to take her bed outside for a bit of morning sun?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘As I said, one neuron too few.’
‘Criticise your own loved ones,’ she muttered. ‘Leave mine alone.’
And she walked out and slammed the door behind her.
She’d walked ten yards down the garden path before Amy found her. The little girl came flying along the cliff path, her pinched face white with shock. She cannoned straight into Lizzie before she saw her. Lizzie caught Amy’s shoulders and set her back, steadying her, noting the tear-stained cheeks and the eyes wide with terror.
‘Amy.’
It was one word, but it steadied her. The child stared up at her, mute.
‘Amy,’ Lizzie said again, more gently, and gathered the little girl into her. She was stooping, kneeling, cradling the child against her, and out it came, great whooping sobs that racked the slight body until it seemed she’d tear apart.
‘Amy, no.’ Lizzie gave her a hard squeeze and then put her away from her, holding her at arm’s length. She took off the child’s glasses, wiped them and popped them on again. ‘Stop this. You need to pull yourself together to tell me.’
‘They can’t… They’ll kill… She’s gone over… Phoebe…’
Lizzie’s heart clenched within her. But somehow she kept her face impassive, her voice stern.
‘They’ll kill who?’
‘They took Phoebe. Kylie and Rose. They thought it was really funny. They hauled her into the back of Kylie’s brother’s billy-cart and they hauled her along the cliff. They were going to stick her in the cave. Hide her. Just…just ’cos everyone’s been making a fuss of the pups and I’m having one.’
‘They told you this?’
‘Kylie’s brother told me. He’s in my class and I knew they were doing something. They were giggling all yesterday and writing notes. Billy’s not bad. They’re mean to him, too. So I asked him and he told me and I followed. They’re bigger than me and I thought…I thought I’d just watch and see where they took her. But she was too big. They hauled her into the billy-cart and she was really heavy and they pulled it along the cliff and then as it turned a corner and started to go downhill it sort of lurched and Rose let it go and…’
‘And…’ Lizzie was feeling sick.
‘And it rolled over the edge of the cliff and smashed on the rocks below. She’s lying there. Kylie and Rose ran away and I came… I can’t get down there. I can see her and… Oh, Dr Darling, I think she’s dead.’
Big breath.
Another big breath.
Do not panic, Lizzie. Do not…
‘Where on the cliff?’ she asked.
‘Up there.’ Amy pointed to the headland. ‘Where it turns. If you look down you can see.’
‘You’ve found me. You’ve done really well,’ she told Amy. ‘It’s up to me now. Go into the hospital and tell any of the nurses-or Dr McKay-what’s happened. Tell them to call the vet. Run.’
Lizzie stared down the cliff face. Here the beach was unapproachable except by boat. But Phoebe wasn’t on the beach. She was about fifteen feet down the cliff face and there was a drop of another ten feet to the sea.
The cliff wasn’t sheer but it sloped at a frightening angle. Phoebe wouldn’t have dropped straight down. There were skid marks on the path. Here the path dipped and turned and it was easy to see what had happened. With the dead weight of Phoebe inside, the cart had lurched out of control and run over the edge. It must have crashed down onto the ledge. There were a couple of wheels lying on the ledge, but Lizzie could see timber from the remains of the cart crashing about in the waves below.
And Phoebe.
Like the wheels, she remained on the ledge. She was a huge liverish blob, unmoving.
‘Phoebe,’ Lizzie yelled, but the dog didn’t move.
Phoebe…
It was all too much. Phoebe. Grandma.
Harry.
They were all caught up in her mind. Four weeks ago she’d been Dr Darling, independent career-woman. Now… Her grandmother’s death had smashed the first layer of her armour. It had made her see she wasn’t invincible. And now she stood on the top of the cliff and she knew exactly what she was going to do.
Something really, really foolish.
It was crazy.
She did it anyway.
She sat down on her backside, she said a silent prayer to whoever looked after pregnant bassets and really stupid doctors and slid over the edge.
As big dippers went, it was a beauty. The surface was loose shale. Lizzie was wearing tough jeans and they acted as a buffer, but once she was over the edge there was no stopping.
She hurtled downwards, fiercely balancing, aiming to one side of Phoebe so she wouldn’t squash what was left of her dog.
‘Oweee…’ Where the squeal came from she had no idea-a kid on a big dipper had nothing on her.
And somehow she did it. She hit the ledge. Her legs shot out in front of her and hit the slight rise before the ledge gave way to the drop to the sea, and she sprawled to an ignominious halt.
Ouch.
She lay winded and looked up at the sky. She was still alive.
Good. Great. She felt a few limbs and tried a few breaths just to see if they’d work and, magic of magic, they did. There was a bit of pain in the seat of her jeans but, hey, that was nothing. Gravel rash?
Phoebe.
She slid around and thought, Whoops, maybe gravel rash has a downside. But she was a doctor. She had a patient to attend to. Triage. Gravel rash could wait.
Phoebe was alive.
She wasn’t stirring. She lay on her side, her flanks heaving. Her one visible eye looked up at Lizzie, desperate,
