THREE
Dominic managed the stairs quite well: it helped that he was surprisingly strong, as I discovered in gripping his arm. Outside it had stopped raining, and as we stumbled out of the terminal building the chill seemed to sober him a little.
‘The car’s over beside that hangar. I’ll go and get it,’ said Nick, because that would be easier than trying to get Dominic a good two hundred yards more.
‘’S the flying school,’ Dominic said as Nick let go of him and I steadied my grip to compensate. ‘Good old Steele. Steele’s a friend.’
I’d just got him nicely balanced when a small van drew up next to us. It was blazoned with Steyne Florists in an elegant script, and out jumped a tallish, brown-haired girl. ‘Dominic! You are here!’
‘Ferdy? Course I’m here. Was’s matter?’
‘Oh, Dominic!’ Her voice cracked as she ran round the bonnet. ‘It’s Mum.’ She stopped uncertainly, eyeing me.
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