‘He’s in the water now,’ Flora said gently, wondering whether Jayne was going into shock. Her eyes were glazed and her face white. ‘He’s looking for her, Jayne.’

‘Conner? When has he ever put his life on the line for anyone? He won’t help her. He won’t help my baby.’ Her eyes suddenly wild with terror, Jayne developed superhuman strength, wrenched herself from the hold of the two men and hurled herself towards the edge of the quay once again.

The two men quickly grabbed her and she wriggled and pulled, struggling to free herself. ‘Get the coastguard, anyone—Oh, God, no, no.’ She collapsed, sobbing and Flora slid her arms round her, this time keeping her body between Jayne and the quay.

‘Jayne, you’re no help to Lily if you fall in, too. Leave it to Conner. You have to trust Conner.’

‘Who in their right mind would trust Conner MacNeil?’

‘I would,’ Flora said simply, and realised that it was true. ‘I’d trust him with my life.’

‘Then you’re obviously infatuated with him,’ Jayne shrieked, ‘like every other woman who comes close to him.’ But she sagged against Flora, her energy depleted by the extravagant surge of emotion.

Infatuated?

Dismissing the accusation swiftly, Flora stared at the surface of the water but there was no movement and a couple of tourists standing next to her started to murmur dire predictions. She turned and glared at them just as there was a sound from the water and Conner surfaced, the limp, lifeless body of the child in his arms. He sucked in air and then hauled himself onto the concrete steps with one hand, his other arm holding the child protectively against his chest.

Lily lay still, her soaked dress darkened by blood, her hair streaked with it.

Flora felt panic, jagged and dangerous. Oh no, please no.

There were no signs of life. None.

Next to her Jayne started to moan like a creature tormented and then the sound stopped as she slid to the concrete in a faint.

‘Leave her,’ Conner ordered, climbing the steps out of the water, the body of the child still in his arms. Lily’s head hung backwards and her skin was a dull grey colour. ‘Someone else can look after her and at the moment she’s better off out of it. Get me a towel, Flora. With the blood and the water, I can’t see what we’re dealing with here.’

A towel?

Feeling sick and shaky, Flora scanned the crowd and focused on two tourists who were loaded down with beach items. ‘Give me your towel.’ Without waiting for their permission, she yanked the towel out of the bag, spilling buckets and spades over the quay. Then she was on her knees beside Conner.

Lily lay pale and lifeless, her tiny body still, like a puppet that had been dropped. Blood spurted like a fountain from a wound on her leg.