Millie suddenly lunges forward and grabs Felix’s left hand, the one gripping Stacey’s arm. With a sharp twist, she snaps his little finger back. There’s an audible crack, and Felix bellows in pain and releases his wife.

‘Oh, my God!’ Harper exclaims, clapping her hand to her mouth as Felix reels backwards. ‘I think you broke his finger!’

‘Have you seen the bruises on her arms?’ Millie demands.

There’s a sudden commotion on the other side of the pool. People are standing up, pushing back chairs, crying out in alarm. A whistle blows. For a moment, Stacey thinks it’s because of the altercation with Felix.

There’s a splash as someone dives fully clothed into the water.

And then she sees the small white body floating facedown in the pool.

chapter 31

millie

Harper is the first to react. Kicking off her sandals, she dives fully clothed into the water, covering the width of the pool in a couple of strokes and reaching Archie before the lifeguard has even got near. She clearly knows what she’s doing: she approaches him from behind and supports his head cleanly above the surface as she brings him to the edge of the pool where I’ve run to help. Several other swimmers assist her in lifting the slight boy out onto the concrete.

‘She’s a doctor,’ Harper says, as people crowd around me. ‘Give her space.’

Archie isn’t breathing.

I check for a pulse, and don’t find one. Placing the heel of one hand on the centre of his chest at the nipple line, I start compressions, careful not to crush his ribs. When he still doesn’t start breathing, I tilt his head back and lift his chin to open his airway before pinching his nose closed and covering his mouth with mine to create an airtight seal.

People are gasping and sobbing around me. Someone has dialled 999 and calls out that the emergency services are on their way. I give two one-second breaths as I watch for Archie’s chest to rise, then thirty more chest compressions before repeating the cycle.

Two breaths. Thirty compressions.

Two breaths. Thirty compressions.

From the corner of my eye, I see Peter climb out of the pool and start to towel himself dry. He watches me compress Archie’s chest with interest.

Two breaths. Thirty compressions.

Archie’s a poor swimmer. While Peter and Harper’s two little boys were larking about in the water, ducking each other and diving in from the side, Archie flailed in the shallows. I don’t need to ask how he ended up facedown in the deep end of the pool. It’s written all over my son’s face.

The storm that’s been threatening all summer.

Two breaths. Thirty—