Good.
I turn back to the road.
The property appears out of the rain almost all at once.
A collection of old stone buildings emerged from the darkness. The farmhouse sat at the centre, low and weathered, with two cottages nearby and trees black against the night beyond. The outbuilding stood to one side, part shed, part workshop, flames pushing through one end of the roof. Smoke dragging sideways in the rain and wind.
A woman stands by the farm gate in a dressing gown and wellies, held back by another woman in a coat who is trying to keep an umbrella over both of them. The rain has already made a mockery of the effort.
The woman in the wellies is screaming a name.
“Arthur!”
Again.
“Arthur!”
My body reacts.
Then it does what I need it to do.
It gets on with the job.
Dan brings us in as close as he safely can. The yard is uneven, slick with rain and mud. When I step down, water hits the back of my neck and runs cold beneath my collar.
I take the scene in fast.
Right-hand side of the outbuilding involved. Smoke pushing from the door and gaps in the roof. House close enough to protect if the wind changes.
Dan has AJ at the edge of the yard before I have to think about it. Visible, back from the working area, close enough to observe, far enough not to become another problem.
That lets me focus.
The next few minutes tighten into movement and decisions.
Kev and Mish get to work. Dan stays close enough to be useful, far enough to keep AJ where he needs to be. The second appliance’s crew moves link up with Kev. The neighbour is trying to tell me everything at once.
“He went back in. He said he had to get Ferdinand. I told him not to. I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Ferdinand is the dog?”
“Yes. He sleeps in there sometimes. Not all the time. I don’t know if he was in there tonight. I don’t know.”
“Any cylinders?”
“One propane bottle. Maybe two. For the heater. There’s petrol too, for the mower.”
“Where?”
“Back wall. Left side, I think. Unless he moved it. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“You’re doing fine,” I say, because people always apologise when they cannot hand you perfect information in the middle of chaos. “Stay with her. Keep her back.”
The wife is still calling for Arthur. Her voice has gone rough, torn at the edges.
I do not look at her for too long.
That is not cruelty.
