‘Christ, there’s loads . . . how we gonna find him?’

Edith so fair and small. The way she laughs at the difference in their size. His huge hands dwarfing her dainty fingers.

‘Harry? No, it’s not him . . . check that one, Malc . . . quick!’

‘Which one?’

‘No, try that one . . . he’s got a beard . . . yes! Harry? Harry?’

Hands grab his shoulders as the beckoning becomes so powerful it cannot be denied, but denied it is and the hands pull him roughly from the warm waters.

‘It’s him!’

‘Get him in . . . NEIN, ER IST TOT . . .’

‘What did you say, Konrad?’

‘I told them he’s dead . . . get him in before they realise . . . Harry? Stay quiet . . .’

‘It’s a bit handy you being German, Konrad.’

‘Thanks, Malc.’

‘Don’t bother you then?’

‘What?’

‘You know, being here . . .’

‘In Norway?’

‘Yeah, you know . . . never mind.’

Confusion now. Edith still in his mind but fading away at the English voices speaking German, or are they German voices speaking English? He’s pulled over the side of a boat and lands heavily with hands gently slapping his cheeks.

‘Here, Konrad, don’t hit him . . .’

‘I’m trying to rouse him, Malc.’

‘He might do what Ben did and I ain’t getting beaten up twice in one night. Hang on. Is he even alive? He doesn’t look too good.’

‘He’s going into shock . . . his lungs are full of water . . .’

‘Give him that epinephrine, I’ll get the defib charged.’

‘I’m doing the defib.’

‘Just give him the eppy pen. I’ll get it charged.’

‘We said I was doing the defib . . . the boss said I was doing it.’

‘Alright, Konrad! I’ll just charge it.’

‘Don’t zap him, Malcolm.’

‘I said alright, Jesus Christ, it’s only a defib. Just give him the eppy.’

‘Which one is it? This one?’

‘That’s the sedative. The other one . . . the other one . . . oh my God, Konrad, the bloody other one, you twat.’

‘Got it. Right, Harry . . . you’re going to feel a burst of energy now. What if he starts fighting, Malc?’

‘Just give him the bloody eppy before he dies.’

Whatever residue remains from death beckoning is banished the instant the adrenaline shot is administered and a surge of power and strength floods Harry’s battered system. Dying from drowning to unquestionable consciousness in an instant, his mind cannot cope with the transition as he tries to grasp the fleeting image of Edith. He bucks and writhes from a spasm that purges the seawater from his lungs and stomach out through his mouth and nose. Gasping for air, puking, writhing and all the time freezing from the icy water clinging to his clothes.

‘Cor, that stuff is strong, Konrad.’

‘You ever tried it?’

‘Epinephrine? Nah, you?’

‘Yeah,’ Konrad snorts. ‘It’s bloody awesome stuff. Get some oxygen into him.’