‘Come on, little one,’ I call encouragingly over the roar of the river. Water pummels against my legs, knocking them out from under me and rushing into my eyes and down my throat. Using a superhuman strength that I didn’t know I possessed, I fight the current and manage to stand up again, but now I realise in horror that I can’t see Beavis anywhere.

Holding my nose, I duck down under the water, keeping my eyes open and desperately searching around for any sign of him. It’s impossible to see anything, but again I go under, clutching a tree root to balance and feeling around with my free hand, grabbing at loose stones, twigs, sticks, anything that could be the leg or tail of a little dog.

‘Beavis!’ I cry, wading further out into the river. I’m just about to submerge myself yet again when I hear a shout and turn, catching my ankle between two rocks as I do so and falling down heavily on my side.

I have lost the tree root, the water is rushing over me, I can feel myself moving but I can’t stop, I can’t see, I can’t breathe. Opening my mouth to scream, I choke as the river floods in. My chest burns in protest and my eyes sting. I am going to die here, I think numbly, and again it is Tui’s face that I see.

I can’t let this happen – I can’t be someone who breaks their promise to her.

‘Help!’ I shriek, raising a hand above the surface, and somehow, another hand is there to grasp mine – a hand that is strong and dry and warm. A hand that is steadying me against the bottom of the river, and sliding down to cradle my elbow, and now the underside of my arm. With a great bellow, the owner of the hand pulls me up out of the water, then a second hand is wrapping around my other arm, and I’m being half lifted and half dragged out of the river, up on to the muddy bank, where I roll on to my back and frantically gasp in the air.

‘Genie!’ Kit is bending over me, his face an inch from my own. ‘Genie, can you hear me? Say something.’

‘Beavis,’ I croak, coughing up more water. Rolling me briskly over on to my side, Kit pats hard on my back until there is no more water to cough up.

‘I need to get Beavis,’ I say again, trying to get back to my feet, but Kit pushes me gently down.

‘You mean this Beavis?’ he asks, pointing up the bank to where an inquisitive furry brown face is watching us both with interest.

‘He got out?’ I cry. ‘Oh, thank God for that.’

‘Sod the bloody dog!’ Kit looks amused. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’