I took a deep breath and launched myself into the black water. I heard the shot echoing around the boathouse. At any second I expected to feel the sting of a bullet but I hit the surface and went under. I gasped at the cold and had to stop myself from coming up to take an immediate breath. Instead I kicked out underwater, praying I was heading in the right direction. I kept swimming underwater until I could see brighter daylight ahead of me. I held my breath until my lungs were on fire and I came up, gasping for air. No sign of the rowing boat yet. I struck out for the plane with powerful strokes, swimming faster than I had ever done before. I hadn’t worked out what I’d do when I reached the aeroplane. She still had the pistol and I was still a sitting target, but I’d work that part out when I came to it.

The aeroplane bobbed on its floats tied to a buoy, within easy swimming distance now. I reached it, hauled myself onto the fin and stood up, holding on to the lower of the double wings. It felt flimsy and insecure. I hadn’t realized before that aeroplanes were made of wood and fabric and wires, like large kites. The rowing boat was now clear of the boathouse and she was rowing hard toward me. This was good news, in that she couldn’t shoot and row at the same time. If I could grab Podge and get him into the water with me, we might just be able to evade Ronny in her rowing boat.

As I stood up and looked into the aeroplane, I could see it had two open cockpits, one behind the other. I looked into the backseat first. No sign of Podge. There were a couple of what looked like rucksacks, half pushed under the seat, but they were too small to hold a child.

I maneuvered my way along the fin to the forward seat and couldn’t see him there, either. I swung my leg over and climbed inside, reaching around on the floor to see if there might be a secret compartment where he could be hidden. But there was nothing.

I didn’t have any time to decide what to do next. The plane started shaking, indicating that Ronny had reached it and was climbing on board. I’d better start swimming again. I swung one leg over the side.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ronny said. She was standing only a foot or so away and the pistol was now pointed at my head.

“He’s not here,” I said lamely.

“No. He’s not.”

“But you said . . .”

“Georgie, you really must stop believing what people tell you. It’s such a pathetic trait.”