“I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t think . . .”

“No, that’s right, isn’t it? Not bloody thinking at all! LOOK, there’s ten bloody yards . . .”

Suddenly there were running footsteps up the side of the track. Another man appeared, out of breath, the smoke from the train brakes rolling around him like a fog.

“What has happened?” he said. He had an accent—European of some kind, Nina thought vaguely.

“This STUPID wee LASSIE here nearly killed you, me, herself, and half the local population if the fuel had gone up!” shouted the first man, purple in the face with fury.

The second man looked at Nina.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Is she all right? She nearly killed—”

“Yes, Jim. Yes. I understand.”

Jim shook his head, still trembling. “This is a bad business. A bad business.”

The lights of the train crossing were dinging again, and the barriers were coming up.

“They shouldn’t do that,” said the second man. “We’re not through. Are you all right?” he asked Nina again, who realized she couldn’t stand up and slumped suddenly against the van.

“I’m going to talk to control,” the first man said.

When the second man reached Nina, she saw that he had curly black hair, rather too long, and tired-looking black eyes with long eyelashes. His skin was olive, and he had taut high cheekbones. He was of medium height, thickset.

“You are all right, yes?”

Nina blinked. She was too shocked to speak.

“Breathe,” he said. “Drink more water, yes?”

She tried a little more water, and spluttered as she did so. She put her hands on her knees until she could get her breath back.

“I thought,” she said, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, “I thought I was dead.”

“Nobody is dead,” said the man. “Nobody is dead. We have me and we have Jim and we have wool, whiskey, oil, and gin. No one is to be dead.”

He looked at her.

“You are freezing. Come, come.” He bundled her toward the train.

The first man had hopped up into the cab and was talking into a radio. He popped his head back out.

“I don’t know what to tell them.”

“There is nothing to tell them! Everyone is fine. Gin, oil, wool is fine. Nobody is hurt.”

“If I tell them, there’ll be a huge investigation. Police. It’ll go on for months.” He regarded Nina sternly. “She’ll be in big trouble.”

“Ha. Yes. Don’t tell them,” said the second man.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t . . .” Nina could hardly speak. Jim’s face up in the cab softened.

“I have to tell them; they’ve called through already. Nobody’s going anywhere.” He looked at her. “Oh for God’s sake,” he said. “You might as well come up and have a cup of tea.”

“Yes, tea,” said the other man, propelling her gently forward. “Tea is answer to everything. Come up into cab! Right now! Be in warm, not cold.”

Nina, not knowing what else to do, stumbled toward the cab, then found she couldn’t swing herself up. Her arms had turned to jelly.

The man leaped up nimbly, then turned and held out a hand.

“Come,” he said. He had wiry black stubble, and his arm was hairy and muscular and covered in oil. He grabbed Nina’s small hand and swung her up into the cab as if she weighed nothing.

The tiny space was warm and cozy. Jim was sitting in front of a large gray molded plastic control panel, and the second man indicated that Nina should sit there too, but instead she slid to the ground and burst into tears.

The two men exchanged glances.

“Have tea?” said the second man eventually. Jim leaned over and brought out a thermos. He poured a cup and handed it to Nina, who accepted it gratefully.

“Don’t cry, lassie,” he said. “Drink that.”

The tea was hot and very sweet, and Nina started to feel better.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “So, so sorry.”

“Oh God,” said Jim again. “The paperwork. The police will be on their way right now. There’ll be filing and investigations up the wazoo.”

“But nobody hurt,” said the second man. “You hero, Jim.”

There was a long pause. The driver didn’t say anything. Then he said, “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“You are,” said Nina, feeling livened up. “You absolutely are. I thought I was dead. I owe you my life. You’re amazing. You stopped just in time.”

The driver’s anger seemed to have almost completely disappeared as he drank his own cup of tea.

“It was just instinct taking over really,” he said modestly.

“You’ll be in paper,” said the second man, smiling and winking at Nina. “You have photograph in paper.”

“Do you think so?”

“You saved my life,” said Nina again, just glad that he wasn’t angry anymore. “You saved me.”

Jim took another slug of tea, then smiled.

“Well,” he said. “Well. Accidents happen.”

The police did arrive, and took long statements from everyone: the driver, Jim, who was quite recovered and pumped up about the entire incident, describing his rapid, life-saving use of the brake to anyone who wanted to listen; the second man, the engineer, whose name was Marek, trying to move everything on; and Nina, who was utterly horrified to learn that she might face criminal charges.

Marek stepped in and smoothly explained that it really ought to be the deer that faced criminal charges, and after they’d breathalyzed her and called in some paramedics to check both her and Jim over, they agreed there was nothing to be done except move the van off the crossing and let everyone carry on, thank God.

The night sleeper from Inverness was backed up behind them and getting rather grumpy about it, and there wasn’t a replacement driver for Jim available from here to Darlington, so Marek offered to take the shift.

There was one big problem, though: Nina was in absolutely no fit state to drive the van, and nobody else was insured. One of the policemen had kindly moved it into a turnoff next to a field and put a warning sticker on it saying Police Aware so nobody else would touch it, but there was still the problem of now.