Other men were there. Not just men. There was a woman. They all had the helmets with the torches, and scratchy clothes. They were doing things to me.

“On three,” someone said. “One, two …” And then rotten pain, the worst for ages. They’d lifted me into something.

They wrapped me up in tin foil.

“You’re the world’s biggest turkey,” someone said.

“Where’s Kenny?” I asked.

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, lad! Hospital. Hypothermia. But he’s fine. Watching the telly, I expect.”

All the time the people were working, doing things. Straps. Grunting.

Someone said, “Let’s get him out of here while we still bloody can.”

I turned my head and saw Tina still lying on the rock.

“My dog,” I said.

But I already knew.

“I’m sorry, son,” the man said.

“Don’t leave her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Will you bury her? Somewhere nice …”

“Course I will.”

“Don’t tell Kenny,” I said.

“Course not.”

They were lifting me. The men and the woman. Carrying me. I strained back my head to see. The man picked up Tina, our dog, who had given up the last of her warmth to me.

It always feels like cheating in a story when people black out and wake up later. Well, I didn’t black out. I remember being carried back along the gorge, the men and the woman sometimes splashing in the water, sometimes climbing over the rocks. And then we went up, the rescue people grunting as they tried to keep the stretcher level. And then it became easier, and then we were at the road, and an ambulance was waiting with its light flashing blue. All the time I cried for Tina, with sadness, and for Kenny, with relief. And I cried a bit because my fucking leg hurt so much.

It took ages to get to the hospital, the ambulance going along the narrow roads. But I didn’t mind. I was warm. Then we got there, and there was a big fuss when I got in. The lights of the hospital were too bright. Nurses checking things, doctors checking things. It was only then that I realised the man who’d picked up Tina wasn’t there. I wanted to thank him, and the others. Maybe I had, I couldn’t remember.

The first thing they did was to wash my face and put a bandage on my head. I’d forgotten that I’d bashed it when I fell. Then they wheeled me in to have my leg X‑rayed. A doctor told me they couldn’t put a cast on it till the next day, as they had to wait for the swelling to go down. They gave me tablets that made the pain go away. Other things happened. Then my dad was there, and Jenny. It was still the night time.

“Sorry, Dad,” I said.

My dad had wet eyes.