THE day had been warm for early October but now the sun was low on the horizon and there was a chilly breeze. The quiet country road running between the trees was full of shadows; in an hour or so it would be dusk. The girl sitting on the grass verge shivered a little and put her arm around the lean, unkempt animal beside her: a half-grown dog in a deplorable condition, the rope which had held him fast to a tree still dangling from his scraggy neck. It was when she had found him not an hour earlier and struggled to free him that he had knocked her down. She had fallen awkwardly and twisted her ankle, and getting herself as far as the road had been a nightmare that she was relieved to have done with. Now she sat, more or less patiently, hoping for help. Two cars had gone past since she had dragged herself and the dog to the road but although she had waved and shouted neither of them had stopped. She studied her ankle in the dimming light; it had swollen alarmingly and she hadnât been able to get her shoe off; there was nothing to do but wait for help, although, since the road was not much more than a country lane connecting two villages, there didnât seem much chance of that before early morning when the farm tractors would begin their work.
âWe may have to spend the night,â she told the animal beside her, for the sound of her voice was a comfort of sorts, âbut Iâll look after you, although Iâm not sure how.â The animal cowered closer; she could feel its ribs against her side, and she gave it a soothing pat. âItâs nice to have company, anyway,â she assured him.
Dusk had fallen when she heard a car coming and presently its headlights swept over them as it passed.
âThatâs that,â said the girl. âYou canât blame anyone for not stoppingâ¦â
However, the car was coming back, reversing slowly until it was level with them and then stopping. The man who got out appeared to her nervous eyes to be a giant and she felt a distinct desire to get up and run, only she couldnât. He came towards her slowly and somehow when he spoke his voice was reassuringly quiet and calm.
âCan I help?â he asked, and his voice was kind too. âYouâre hurt?â
He stood for a moment looking down at her; a small girl with no looks, too thin, but even in the deepening dusk her eyes were beautiful.
âWell, not really hurt, but I twisted my ankle and I canât walk.â She studied him carefully and liked what she saw. This was no young man out for an eveningâs ride but a soberly clad man past his first youth, his pale hair silvered at the temples. He was good-looking too, though that did not matter. âI would be very grateful for a lift as far as Minton Cracknell; itâs only a couple of miles along the road. I live there.â
âOf course, but may I look at your ankle first? Iâm a doctor and it looks as though it needs attention.â
He squatted down beside her, and, when the dog growled, put out a large hand for the beast to sniff. âWe must have that shoe off,â he told her, and got out a pocket knife and cut the laces.
âIâm going to hurt you,â he said, and did despite his gentleness. âGood girl. Catch your breath while I get some bandage from the car.â
He was gone and back again before she had had the time to wipe away the tears on her cheeks; she hadnât said a word while the shoe was coming off but she hadnât been able to stop the tears. He handed her a handkerchief without a word and said cheerfully, âIt will feel much better once Iâve strapped it up. You will have to get it X-rayed tomorrow and rest it for a day or two.â
He got to his feet. âThe dog is yours?â he asked.
âWell, noâIâI heard him barking as I came along the road and heâd been tied to a tree and left to starve; he accidentally tripped me up as I was freeing himâ¦â
âPoor beast, but lucky for him that you heard him. Will you adopt him?â
He was talking idly, giving her time to pull herself together.
âWell, I donât think I canâmy stepmother doesnât like dogsâbut I can give him a bed and a meal and see if thereâs anyone in the villageâ¦â
âWell, letâs get you home,â he said kindly, and scooped her up with a word to the dog, who needed no encouragement but climbed into the back of the car after the girl had been settled in the front seat.
âHeâll make an awful mess,â she said apologetically, âand itâs a Bentley, isnât it?â
The man looked amused. âI donât suppose there will be any lasting damage,â he observed. âWhere do you live exactly?â
âIf you go through the village itâs the house on the right behind a high brick wall. Itâs called the Old Rectory. My father inherited it from his father; itâs been in the family for yearsâ¦â
She glanced at his profile. âYouâve been very kind.â
âIâm glad that I happened to pass by, Missâ¦?â
âPreece, Cressida Preece.â She added shyly, âYouâre not English, are you?â