Charlotte was jealous, and who wouldn’t be? Normally, I’d be happy that she was jealous of what I had, but for some reason that didn’t seem as important today. This was the first time I’d seen her in person since camp, though we’d video-called each other heaps. On one of those occasions I asked her what had happened to our official complaint against Mr Dyson. She said she’d had a bit of a rethink after he dived in to save me when I was lashed to the rock, and she didn’t like to ask Mr Meredith what had happened. I was pretty sure Mr M hadn’t done anything about it and it wasn’t difficult to get Charlotte to agree to forget the whole thing. I felt loads better when she did.

I took Z into the pool room with us, partly to show off, I guess, but mainly because he was so adorable. He’d spent two nights curled up on Aiden’s bed, and after all Aiden had been through I couldn’t bring myself to ask for my share of the dog’s night-time company. Anyway, I was still hoping Aiden would come back to our room when he was feeling a little better. Then Z could sleep between us.

Mum had said I could swim, provided I didn’t ‘overdo it’ and she’d also said there was no reason why Zorro couldn’t either.

‘Totally waterproof,’ she said. ‘To at least one hundred metres. Beyond that, I wouldn’t risk it.’

So the dog ran up and down the side of the pool while Charlotte and I drifted and floated and swam. Z occasionally gave a small yip as if he wanted to join us and was just waiting for permission.

‘Well, come on then,’ I said, clapping my hands. ‘Jump in, you goober.’

And he did. It was amazing. One moment the dog was turning in tight circles, the next he had launched himself straight into the pool. Charlotte and I shrieked with laughter as he hit the surface.

I stopped laughing when he sank like a stone.

‘Oh, my God.’ I said and duck-dived immediately. Z had gone off into the deep end, naturally, so it was a bit of an effort to make it down to the bottom of the pool. When I got there, he was sitting on the floor tiles looking up at me; it was so funny I nearly burst out laughing, which is probably not the wisest thing to do when you’re on the bottom of a swimming pool. I managed to get to the surface, spluttering and choking, holding a wet dog that was as heavy as a brick. I placed him on the edge of the pool and he just stood there, dripping and blinking.

‘Shake yourself,’ I said. ‘That’s what wet dogs do. They shake themselves.’

But he drip-dried instead, while Charlotte and I nearly died laughing. I guessed Zorro was going to be relying on me and Aiden for a lot of training over the coming months. I was putting my hand up for swim instructor.