The touch to her back to stop her slipping is instinctive. He doesn't need to think about it, he just moves, making sure she doesn't fall or break a leg as well as an arm. She'd probably insist on crawling her way to a doctor, rather than be carried. Or refuse to see a doctor at all.

Jesus. A name that seems to keep popping up, like he's managed to get tangled up in a church outing. He keeps that to himself, because what she says doesn't need his disrespectful thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine how jarring that must be." He wonders if she's realised, if she goes back, she'll be without him again. She must have done. But that's a horrible thing to have on your shoulders. All the worst if he doesn't know himself. "I've never had anyone from home here with me. But if I did, I'd treasure it. Unless, of course, they were a complete wanker."

If he had Jack. Jack from before the madness set in, Jack from before all the pain, he'd be a happy man. He'd happily have Evie, even if she'd miss her husband. Best she's at home, away from this mess.