Page 111 of Take Me Away

I strain to see past the harbour mouth, into the black beyond. The coastguard helicopter has moved closer to shore, its searchlight focused on a patch of sea.

A dot of orange appears in the darkness. Then another. Reflective strips on life jackets catching the helicopter’s beam.

The lifeboat.

It’s moving erratically, fighting the waves, but it’s coming in. The whole harbour holds its breath as it creeps closer, metres feeling like miles.

‘How many?’ someone shouts.

No one answers. No one can be sure yet.

I count shadows on the deck. One, two, three – four… They’re moving, hard to distinguish.

The lifeboat breaches the harbour mouth, and suddenly the water is calmer, the waves less violent. It surges towards the slip, engine at full throttle.

Hands reach out to steady it as it comes alongside. Lines are thrown, caught, secured. Voices shout instructions that blend into a wall of sound.

I push forward, desperate for a clear view, but Reuben holds me back. Salty sea spray rushes into my mouth as I try and fight away.

‘Let them work,’ he says.

First figure off the boat: Jude. Soaked, shivering. One arm in a makeshift sling.

Tom is next, hand on Jude’s shoulder.

Third: Cal, who’s supporting…

Fourth: Kit.

My knees nearly buckle. He’s alive. Standing, though barely. His face is a mess of cuts and bruises, one eye swollen shut. But he’s breathing. Moving. Here.

But no one else follows.

No Peter.

Nina pushes through the crowd, face ghostly pale. ‘Where is he? Where’s Peter?’

Jude shakes his head, says something I can’t hear. Nina crumples, would have fallen if Reuben didn’t step forward and catch her.

I can’t process it. Can’t understand what’s happened. My focus narrows to Kit – being guided to the waiting ambulance, blanket around his shoulders, blood on his temple.

He doesn’t see me. Doesn’t turn. Just moves with the slow shuffle of someone operating on empty.

The paramedic is trying to guide him into the ambulance, but then like a man suddenly waking from a nightmare, he resists, pulling back, shaking his head, pointing back to the water, like he wants to dive straight into the deep dark void.

Kit shoves past the ambulance crew, eyes wild, shouting into the storm. ‘He’s still out there! We go back. We go back!’

The medic says something. Kit’s face contorts. Grief. Rage. Shock. He’s pushing, fighting, face torn, his skin as pale as moonlight. Jude stops him, hands on shoulders, face close.

Whatever he says makes Kit go still.

Too still.

Like something vital has been extinguished.

And I understand with sickening clarity: Peter isn’t coming back.

He went in after Kit. And now he’s gone.