Joe's only just left The Crab and Lobster when an alarm signal comes across his radio and he hears his badge number.
"This is PC Penhale, 3021," he responds into the hand held.
"We have a report of a two vehicle RTA on DeLank Road, Bodemin Moor, possible fatalities. Ambulance is on route but you will need medical backup until it arrives."
"I'm on my way," says Joe, running toward his Land Rover.
"3021, do you wish us to contact local medical backup?"
"Negative," he says jumping into the seat and starting the engine. "She's very near my location. I'll pick her up on my way. 3021 out."
Joe drives up the hill to the surgery and pounds on the front door.
Stirling throws it open in alarm. She is still wearing the clothes from her date. Before she can say a word, Joe steps inside.
"Grab your bag," he says. "There's a serious RTA out on the moor. They need police and medical assistance."
RTA? She thinks. Road traffic accident.
Stirling runs to the consulting room and grabs her doctor's bag. She also collects any extra supplies she thinks she might need for someone injured in a car accident. She snags her anorak from the front peg on the way out the door.
She jumps into the front passenger seat of the Land Rover and Joe quickly reverses and turns the vehicle around using the parking lot beside the surgery. Within minutes they are speeding out of town, lights flashing and siren wailing.
"How many people are involved?" she asks.
"At least two," says Joe, pushing hard on the accelerator. "The witness who called it in didn't give an exact number. The only thing I know for sure is there may be fatalities."
Stirling reaches behind her and pulls her seat belt across, snapping it into place. She braces herself as best she can against the door frame, trying to stop her head from bouncing off the cab roof. It's a rough ride.
Both are silent most of the way to the scene, each considering the possible scenarios that await them. A few miles up DeLank Road, Joe spots a light on the road ahead. He slows down and pulls up beside a grey haired lady holding a high-powered flashlight.
"The cars are just ahead," she says. "One's upside down on the right side of the road. The other crashed head on into a rock out cropping on the left side."
"Has the fire service arrived yet?" Joe asks the distressed woman, who shakes her head in the negative.
He thanks her and drives ahead, his headlights eventually illuminating the rock and smashed car. He pulls over and grabs a torch out of a storage bin in the dash. As he jumps out of the Land Rover, he reaches behind his seat and grabs a pry bar. Stirling fishes her own torch out of her bag and scrambles out of the vehicle, trotting over to the driver's side of the crumpled car.
A middle-aged man lies slumped over the steering wheel, buoyed up by his vehicle's air bag. He groans as Sterling gently touches his neck, checking his pulse. It's strong.
"Sir, can you hear me?" asks Sterling, backing away slightly as Joe forces open the driver's side door using the pry bar.
The man moans again and manages to move himself upright, flopping his head against the back of the seat.
"What happened?" he whispers.
"You've been in a traffic accident," explains Stirling, shining her light around his face and head. He has a deep cut above his left eye and his nose is obviously broken.
"Can you tell me where it hurts most?" she asks, shining the torch further down his body and feeling with her hands. His right ankle looks crushed and she's pretty certain he's bruised or broken some ribs.
"My left leg," he moans. "And my chest. It hurts when I breathe."
Stirling stands up and shines her torch throughout the rest of the car, looking for passengers.
"Were you alone in the car?" she asks.
"Yes," he whispers again.
Stirling turns to Joe, who has been assessing the vehicle.
"He's fairly stable at the moment," she says. "One of his ankles is crushed and the way he's jammed in there, the fire service is going to have to cut him out."
She looks down at the pry bar in Joe's hand.
"I guess we could pry him out if we need to but I don't really want to move him unless I have to. Is the car safe?"
"Don't light a fag near it," he says. "But nothing's sparking or smoking."
"Good."
Stirling unfurls a blanket and places it over the injured driver, making sure he's covered from his neck to his feet.
"I have to check on the people in the other car," she tells the man. "I won't be too far away. Don't worry, an ambulance is on its way."
She grabs her bag and she trots across the road, Joe close behind her. They both shine the beams of their torches around the area, trying to spot the second car. In the distance, the sound of sirens can be heard.
The beam from Joe's eventually lands on a tire poking out of marshy water. It's still spinning.
"Oh my god," says Stirling, kicking off her boots and removing her tweed jacket.
"What the hell are you doing?" asks Joe, kicking off his own boots as she wades into the water.
"I have to check," she says, going under.
"Crazy woman," Joe mutters. "That's my job."
After throwing off his anorak, he wades in after her, clutching his waterproof torch.
The water is only about waist deep but it's murky, the bottom mud sucking at his feet. Joe points the beam of light where he expects the car to be and puts his head under. He manages to illuminate Stirling who is on her knees beside the driver side door, trying to smash the window with a rock she has found. Joe squats down beside her and uses the heavy end of his torch to crack the glass. Together they pull out the window, exposing a young woman suspended upside down by her seat belt. Pulling a folding knife from his pocket, Joe saws through the belt. He's quickly running out of air and he knows Stirling can't last much longer. He manages to yank the young woman out the driver's side window and they all come to the surface.
Panting, Joe and Stirling drag the woman out of the water. Stirling immediately begins CPR, counting out as she puffs air into her lungs and compresses her chest.
The sirens are much closer now and as Joe looks up, he can see flashing lights approaching in the distance.
"It looks like the fire service is here," he says. "I have to go inform these guys about what's going on. Are you okay?"
She continues the rhythm, nodding to Joe between the puffs and the chest compressions.
He sprints through the underbrush, going to meet the emergency vehicles arriving at the road.
With the wail of sirens in the background and the sound of raised voices and slamming doors, Stirling continues to work on the woman. In her mind, she is calculating the amount of time the driver could have been under the water before they pulled her out.
It's been too long, she thinks.
But Stirling is hesitant to give up. Even though her own lungs are burning in protest, she continues to count out the rhythm. Her persistence pays off when a spout of water erupts from the driver's mouth followed by a gurgling gasp. She immediately turns the young woman to the recovery position, hoping to drain more water from her lungs. She checks her pulse, which is almost nonexistent.
"Can you hear me?" she shouts in her ear, then putting her head beside the woman's blue lips. The driver is trying to communicate and Stirling strains to understand.
"Nydad, mybad, mybab," she mutters to herself, as she covers the woman with a blanket.
Stirling pauses for a moment and then she is in motion, grabbing Joe's torch from the ground next to her and running back into the water toward the partially submerged car.
Joe is watching the fire service prepping the other driver for extraction from the crumpled car when he thinks he hears the sound of splashing coming from behind him. He turns and looks, noticing a light bobbing in the marshy water.
"Stirling!" he shouts.
The light promptly disappears.
The water's colder the second time, Stirling thinks as she squats beside the submerged passenger side door and shines the torch light through the glass. She can see nothing. She tips the beam upwards and thinks she sees movement. She smashes the torch handle against the glass and pulls away the window. A big bubble of air floats out through the opening and ascends, popping at the surface.
Maybe there's an air bubble! she considers.
Stirling breaks the surface and takes a big breath of air. She can hear more sirens in the distance and the sound of someone shouting her name. She ducks back under and pulls herself through the window opening into the rear area of the car. As she stands up, her head enters a small air bubble trapped where the back and bottom cushions of the rear bench seating meet. There's just enough height for her head to fit. Beside her bob two little heads - a boy and a girl. They look to be between six and eight but Stirling can't be sure.
Fighting back her surprise and shock, she tries to remain calm.
"Hiya," she says brightly "I'm Stirling. What are your names?"
The children look at her big eyed. Finally the girl, apparently the older of the two, says: "Sarah." The little boy quickly adds: "Roger."
Suddenly with some bubbling and a gasp, Joe's head pops up next to Stirling.
It's getting very crowded in the backseat.
"What the hell ..." he starts but Stirling cuts him off.
"Sarah and Roger, this is my good friend, Joe. He and I are going to get you out of here."
Joe looks at the two children, then Stirling, and then the children again.
"Do you guys know how to hold your breath?" he asks, making a big show of taking a gulp of air and popping under water and then back up. "Like when you bob in the pool or the tub?"
The two kids nod their heads.
"When Stirling and I tell you to, take a really big breath and hold it," he says.
He turns to Stirling.
"Both the back passenger windows are smashed," he explains. "You go out the left one, I'll go out the right."
"Which left and which right?" Stirling asks, suddenly confused.
Joe pauses for a moment.
"If you're facing the front of the car, you go out the left side window and I'll go out the right."
"Okay."
"You take the little girl, I'll take the boy," he says.
Stirling has Sarah wrap her arms around her and she grabs the little girl as tight as she can. The little boy clings to Joe like a spider monkey.
"Okay, one, two, three, big breath," he says.
Everyone takes in a big gasp of stale air and dives under the water, Stirling moving left and Joe right. She manages to squirm through the window with Sarah tight against her and quickly pops to the surface. The little girl coughs up a bit of water but is soon breathing fine.
"Joe!" Stirling calls. "Joe!"
She can hear voices close by and see the flashing lights of an arriving ambulance. But on the water, it's silent.
"Joe!" she yells, panic beginning to edge her voice.
"Over here," he calls and wades into view from the far side of the car, Roger clinging to his chest.
"Thank god," breathes Stirling with relief.
The pair of them wades out of the water carrying their little charges, collapsing on the grassy bank as the adrenaline rush wears off.
"I see someone over here," cries a disembodied voice and soon an ambulance attendant and some fire service personnel are beside them, wrapping the children in blankets and whisking them off to the ambulance.
"How's the mother?" Stirling asks, grabbing the arm of the ambulance attendant.
"She didn't make it," he says, handing her a blanket before rushing back to the ambulance.
Damn, she thinks, even though she's really not surprised.
It was a miracle she had been able to bring the young woman back even for that brief amount of time.
She'd been under the water too long.
Stirling and Joe sit side-by-side on the grassy bank, shivering slightly, even with blankets over their shoulders.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," she answers. "Just very wet and a bit chilled."
She grabs her doctor's bag and turns to help Joe to his feet. Collecting their boots and anoraks, they shuffle through the underbrush back to the road and the Land Rover.
Two ambulances are set to leave as they walk into the headlights.
"Are you two alright?" one of the drivers calls.
"We're fine," yells Stirling. "Get going."
They both light up and drive off into the night, sirens wailing.
The fire service is busy collecting its gear while two recovery trucks sit parked by the side of the road. Two men are working to attach tow cables to the man's crumpled car.
"You look kind of cold," says Joe, grabbing her arm to feel her temperature. "It can get cold here at night due to the higher elevations and the wind. Not a good combination when you're soaked."
They both shiver as a cool breeze washes over them.
"Maybe you could start the Land Rover and put the heater on," Stirling says, taking off her blanket and setting it on the bonnet.
Joe does as she says and climbs back out.
"I have to have a quick talk with the recovery guys and get a debrief from the fire service," he says. "It might take a little while. You should wait in the vehicle where it's warmer."
He's surprised as Stirling begins unbuttoning her blouse.
"Are you taking off your clothes?" he asks uncertainly.
"Yes. They are soaked. I'm never going to get warm wearing wet clothes."
Joe watches wide-eyed as she removes her blouse, showing a pink lace bra underneath. She reaches around behind her to undo the clasp and Joe turns his back, marching toward the fire service vehicles.
Stirling quietly curses her wet blue jeans as she tries to shimmy out of them, eventually managing to kick them off.
She wraps herself in her blanket, tight under the arms like a bath towel. It's just long enough to cover her private areas. She sets her doctor's bag and wet clothes in the back of the Land Rover and climbs in the passenger side.
She leans back against the warm seat, enjoying the hot blast of air coming from the heater. Comfortable and finally warm, she eventually falls asleep, curled on her side with her cheek pressed against the back of the seat.
About half an hour later, both cars cleared away and the road open again, Joe walks back to the Land Rover, chilled to the bone thanks to his wet clothes. He opens the drivers' side door and is met with a blast of wonderful warmth. He notices Stirling, curled on her right side facing him, sound asleep.
He feels like he could stand there looking at her all night, at her damp hair sticking to her shoulders in ringlets and her long, bare legs. But he turns his head, nervous and shy.
A strong breeze whistles down the road and Joe shivers, his teeth starting to chatter. Joe stands beside the Land Rover for a moment, looking up and down the road, before pulling off his wet T-shirt and unbuttoning his soaked trousers.
Sure, get starkers on the side of the road, he thinks, cursing his wet blue jeans as he tries to shimmy out of them. After all, you're never going to get warm wearing wet clothes.
He wraps his blanket around his waist and throws his clothes in the back of the Land Rover before jumping into the cab.
The slamming of his door startles Stirling awake. She yawns and stretches, wiping at her eyes.
"What time is it?" she asks sleepily, sitting up in the seat.
Joe glances at his watch.
"Half two in the morning," he says.
She groans and looks over at him.
"Are you naked?" she asks, suddenly wide awake.
"No, I have a blanket on, same as you."
"Why?"
"I was freezing," he says defensively. "And you said we were never going to get warm wearing wet clothes."
She gives a nervous gulp.
"Are you warmer?" she asks.
She feels like she could sit there looking at him all night, his muscular arms and chest, the path of hair on his abdomen. But she turns her head, embarrassed by the feelings rising within her.
"Yes, thanks," he says. "I can finally feel my feet again."
They both turn their heads and look at each other from opposite ends of the Land Rover cab. There's an energy, a tension in the space. Both can sense it. Joe is excited by it. Stirling is terrified. The moment passes and she let's out a large gust of air. She hadn't even noticed she was holding her breath.
"Home then?" asks Joe, starting the Land Rover.
The trip back to the village starts out quiet, both lost in their thoughts.
It's Joe who finally breaks the silence.
"I heard you on the radio," he says.
Stirling flinches at the memory.
"What? You were fantastic," he says with enthusiasm. "I've never heard anyone play the piano like that except on the radio."
He thinks about what he's just said.
"I mean, like a famous person on the Beeb, not someone from Portwenn."
He's not sure that's any better.
"What I mean is, you play the piano very well."
Stirling smiles.
"Thank you."
"How long have you been playing?"
"I started when I was three."
"Cor, when I was three, I was in the back garden playing with my Action Man."
Stirling smiles ruefully.
"You didn't have my mum. She taught me until I advanced past her abilities. After that, it was a long succession of piano teachers, right up until I was 10."
"What happened when you were 10?"
"My parents were killed in a road traffic accident. After that, there was no extra money for piano lessons."
"I'm sorry," says Joe solemnly.
"That's okay. I just taught myself from books and tapes."
"No, I mean I'm sorry about your parents."
"Oh," says Stirling, feeling like a dim wit.
"That's a young age to lose your mum and dad," says Joe.
"My sister and her husband moved to the farm and took care of me."
"Her husband?"
"My sis - Emily - she's 10 years older than me. She and Robert were basically newlyweds when the accident happened."
Joe does the math quickly in his head.
"She married young."
"She had to," says Stirling matter-of-factly. "She was carrying on with the local bobby. Back seats of patrol cars, dark alleys, back room of the police station. She ended up the duff. Wouldn't look too good if he did that to the local veterinarian's oldest daughter and didn't marry her."
Joe blushes, feeling uncomfortable with the current subject matter.
"So your sister is married to a police constable."
"A sergeant in the Yorkshire force. My sis runs the farm and he keeps the peace in the neighbourhood. He's mostly chasing poachers, livestock thieves the neighbourhood drunks. They have two kids, Roberta and Richard."
Stirling finds herself warming to the topic.
"Robert's a great bloke. He's like an older brother. My sis and I, we're very different people; different personalities; oil and water. Robert understands me. He ends up being the peacekeeper at home too. Poor bugger."
She sits quietly for a few minutes.
"Do you have any sibs besides Sam?"
"No, just him."
"And Sam works for a decorating contractor if I recall."
"Before that, he was being detained at Her Majesty's Pleasure," says Joe.
"He's been in the nick?" asks Stirling, looking surprised. "What did he do?"
"Sam's a right talented painter; portraits, landscapes. He was caught forging paintings, selling them as originals. I guess he made quite a wad at it. Ended up poisoning himself while making homemade lead paint. Unfortunately, the home was mine. The Doc figured it all out. I felt like quite the idiot. Couldn't see what was right in front of me."
Stirling is silent for a while.
"It's hard to think badly about someone you care about," she says quietly. "People can tell you up and down a person's a no good wanker. But until you see it or experience it yourself, you never believe or suspect it."
Joe looks over at her.
"Sounds like you speak from experience."
"You could say that," Stirling says softly, staring out at the dark world passing outside the windscreen.
In no time at all, Joe is stopping the Land Rover by the front door of the surgery.
"You were amazing tonight," he says. "The way you waded into that marsh, how you found those kids."
"You were pretty amazing yourself," Stirling says shyly.
"I was just following you," says Joe, climbing out of the vehicle and tying his blanket more firmly around his waist. "We better dig your kit out of the back."
Stirling climbs out her side and pads in bare feet to the back of the vehicle. They sort out her clothes from the sodden pile plus her boots and anorak. She grabs her doctor's bag and turns to Joe.
"It's been an interesting evening," she says. "Pleasure working with you."
"Likewise," says Joe, his turn to be shy. "Maybe we can do it again. But without the smashed cars, injured people and marshy water."
You idiot, he thinks to himself.
Stirling laughs tiredly as she climbs the stairs onto the surgery's front terrace and walks to the front entrance. She digs her keys from her doctor's bag and opens the door. She's about to close it behind her when Joe calls out to her.
"Stirling!"
She looks back.
"You're quite something," he says, admiration in his voice. "You're really quite something."
Stirling pauses, uncertain what to think of this pronouncement.
"Thank you," she says and closes the door softly behind her.