‘Anna!’ She looks up and sees Lisa clinging by one arm to a huge rock a few metres from the shore. Her other arm is dangling at an odd angle. The water is swirling around the rock.

‘I can’t go any further, the current’s too strong! My arm . . .’ Lisa shouts.

Anna isn’t caught in the same current yet, but there is no doubt that she is getting closer to it with every second. She has to reach the shore, has to prioritise her daughter.

She keeps kicking, using all the reserves of strength she can summon up to keep moving forward. Suddenly her shoulders hit rocks. She puts her feet down and manages to take a few steps before she stumbles. Another attempt, then another until she reaches the shore. She grazes her knees on the stones and twists her ankle, but her legs are so cold that she is only vaguely aware of the pain. The bank is no more than half a metre high, but when she lifts Agnes’s body out of the river and it is no longer supported by the water, the weight makes her collapse with exhaustion, Agnes in her arms. Her stomach contracts, sending up a cascade of liquid that sears her throat.

Lisa is still calling out to her. Inside her head Håkan is yelling that she has to get to her feet, drag Agnes up onto the bank and start CPR. She tries to crawl, but her legs and arms refuse to co-operate, and she flops on her back next to Agnes. Someone is screaming, the sound is loud and heartrending, a mixture of grief and impotence. It takes a few seconds for Anna to realise that it is her.

All at once someone grabs her shoulders and heaves her up onto the bank. She sees Wellington boots, green hunting trousers and an oilskin jacket. It is Bror Klein.

Without a word he drops her and returns to pick up Agnes. Her face and lips are white.

Hope gives Anna fresh strength. She gets to her knees and hurls herself at Agnes. Pushes away Klein’s helping hands and points to the rock where she saw Lisa.

‘Out there. Someone else. Quickly!’

He disappears as she pinches Agnes’s nostrils and places her mouth over her daughter’s lips. She tastes blood, and blows as hard as she can. Hears that horrible bubbling in Agnes’s windpipe. She blows again, and again. The bubbling grows louder.

Keep going, Håkan says. Don’t give up!

She keeps blowing, feels the lack of oxygen making her field of vision narrow, but she doesn’t stop. Agnes gurgles, and like lava from volcano, dark green water gushes out of her mouth. Anna rolls Agnes onto her side and bangs her back until the eruption stops.

‘Agnes!’

Her voice sounds distant. Agnes doesn’t move.