She shrugged.
“If you like,” she said.
“Oh, if I like. If I like. Well, that’s very gracious of you.”
He looked outside.
“We’ll wait till the sheeting rain stops, I think. No point in giving us all hypothermia.”
He glanced over to where the children were gently patting the dog. Bramble had finally settled and was stretched out, his breathing slowing. He looked like he was going to sleep. Flora’s brow furrowed.
“He’ll be all right,” said Charlie. “Looks more like a bad sprain than a break; it hasn’t swollen. He’s just falling asleep, don’t worry.”
“I knew that,” said Flora. There was a silence. Flora knew she was behaving badly toward someone who was clearly trying to help her, but somehow her bad mood today was infecting everything and she didn’t know how to get out of it.
They sat staring at the rain.
“So, what, you do Outward Adventures for children in howling storms?” said Flora eventually, when it became clear that Charlie was perfectly happy with silence for as long as it took for the rain to stop.
He shrugged. “Weather’s all part of it, isn’t it? We’ll put our tents up in here if it doesn’t let up, although I’d rather we were outside. Can’t light a fire in here.”
“Isn’t it a bit miserable?”
“You think we should all be in five-star hotels?”
“For holidays, I would think so.”
Charlie shook his head. They were well out of earshot of the children, who were still being unusually quiet.
“Neh. Not for these ones.”
“Who are they?” said Flora. They looked like such mites, some of them.
Charlie shrugged. “They’ve all got a parent in prison. At least one. This is a chance for them to get away from everything . . . well. A lot of them have all sorts of things going on. There’s a charity that sends them to us.”
Flora was incredibly taken aback.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize.”
“Why should you?” said Charlie. “They’re just kids.”
Flora blinked.
“They look like they’ve had it tough.”
“Some of them, aye. Very tough. A few nights under canvas, even if it is raining, isn’t the worst thing. This is their first night. Wait till you see them in a few days. You won’t recognize them. They’re not sure what’s going on yet.” He smiled. “Once we get the fire lit, things warm up.”
“Is it just you?”
“Oh no, I’ve got a partner. She’s gone down to get extra waterproofs. Normally I’d send the kids to help, but I don’t want anyone with bronchitis.”
“Oh,” said Flora, wondering who this saint was out in the rain getting waterproofs for underprivileged children when she herself had been having a temper tantrum about nobody liking her dinner. “I’m Flora, by the way.”
“Charlie.” He reintroduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”
They shook hands again. His hand was rough and weathered, and large, like the rest of him. There was something solid about him. She could see if you were a child far from home, you’d trust him straightaway.
“So how come you get to be the one sheltering in the cave?”
Charlie shrugged.
“We take turns. Plus, this is a lads’ session. They need a bit of time with a chap. They tend not to see very many.”
“What do you mean?” said Flora.
“Ah. A lot of them have no dad at home. Female teachers, female social workers; sometimes the first time they come in contact with a man is through the police service. Or a gang.”
He got up then and headed back to see what the children were doing with the dog. Quickly he sent two of them out to gather branches, and when they came back, wet and giggly, he showed them how to make a makeshift field stretcher, using a tarpaulin from his backpack and giving them all pieces of rope to practice knots on. In no time, they’d rigged up something entirely passable; now the only challenge was getting Bramble onto it. Finally relaxed, he had fallen asleep licking his paw.
Charlie opened up his first aid kit.
“What are you doing?” said Flora.
“Trying to work out the right dose of ibuprofen for a dog. He is quite fat, you know.”
“You said,” said Flora. She frowned. “You do this all the time?”
“Oh no. We take lots of management dickheads too, don’t worry. Helps us afford to have this lot.”
Flora smiled. Charlie peered outside.
“I think it’s clearing up.”
“It is not clearing up!”
“Anything that isn’t stair rods is still fighting weather, I reckon.”
He turned round to the group of lads.
“Who’s hard enough?”
The boys all cheered.
“Who reckons they can get the dog down the hill to the vet’s?”
“ME! Me, sir! Let me! I’ll do it!”
“Don’t let him do it, he’ll drop the bloody dog like he dropped his sandwiches!”
“I didn’t drop my sandwiches!”
The group collapsed in laughter at some hapless freckled soul up at the front, who had turned bright pink.
“Settle down,” said Charlie in a voice that brooked no argument. “Right, lad, what’s your name again?”
“Ethan,” whispered the boy. He had a drawn look, and shadows under his eyes that didn’t belong in one so young.
“Did they taste all right, those sandwiches?”
“Yeah, if you like mud!” shouted someone.
“Oi!” said Charlie. “Enough!”
He bent down to the little fellow.
“Look,” he said. “It’s going to get dark soon. This animal is injured and we have to rescue him. It’ll be wet and heavy and difficult.”
He paused.
“Can you help me?”
The boy nodded fiercely.
Charlie knelt by the dog’s head with a couple of ibuprofen.
“He won’t eat those,” said Flora, who had long memories of her mother attempting to worm Bramble.
“He will in this,” said Charlie, crushing them into a peppermint pattie. Sure enough, Bramble snoozily opened a bloodshot eye and lazily licked up the treat without even noticing.
“That’ll help him out. Okay, lads.”
Charlie pointed out a few others to help Ethan—none, Flora noticed, of the ones who’d made fun of him—and the chosen group moved carefully to line the stretcher.
“Come on,” said Charlie, and he and Flora knelt down to roll the dog onto the tarpaulin.
“This dog is—”
“Too fat. Yes, you said,” said Flora. “Thanks once again, Captain Do-Gooder.”
He eyed her up.
“That’s a new one. Normally people are generally quite grateful when I help them out up a mountain.”
“Are they?” said Flora, who was cold and hungry and thoroughly ungrateful. She thought about it. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Charlie drily.
Bramble scuffled a little on the stretcher, but Flora soothed him. Charlie took off his belt, and Flora watched in astonishment as he put it gently round Bramble’s rotund middle to attach him to the stretcher.
The rain was definitely moving on now, and it was possible to see down the mountain to the little harbor nestled in its embrace, the fields that led almost down to the dunes, the water chopping up in the firth.