Olivia said: 'Roger and I can take the turns. He's our boy. We can carry him.'

She had not spoken to John since the incident of Jane and Pirrie. John said to her:

'Olivia - I do the arranging around here. Roger and I will carry Steve. You can take the pack of whoever happens to be doing it at the tune.'

Their eyes held for a moment, and then she turned away.

Roger said: 'All right, old son. Up you get.'

Their progress immediately after this was a little faster, since Steve had been acting as a brake, but John was not deceived by it. The carrying of a passenger, even a boy as small as Steve, added to their difficulties.

He kept them going until they had nearly got to the end of Garsdale, before he called a halt for their midday meal.

The wind, which had been carrying the rain into their faces, had dropped, but the rain itself was still falling, and in a steadier and more soaking downpour.

John looked round the unpromising scene.

'Anybody see a cave and a pile of firewood stacked inside? I thought not. A cold snack today, and water.

And we can rest our legs a little.'

Arm said: 'Couldn't we find somewhere dry to eat it?'

About fifty yards along the road, there was a small house, standing back. John followed her gaze towards it.

'It might be empty,' he said. 'But we should have to go up to it and find out, shouldn't we? And then it might not be empty after all. I don't mind us taking risks when it's for something we must have, like food, but it isn't worth it for half an hour's shelter.'

'Davey's soaked,' she said.

'Half an hour won't dry him out. And that's all the time we can spare.' He called to the boy: 'How are you, Davey?Wet?'