What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He had two options. Either he at least tried to dig the dog out with his bare hands or he walked away and left it to drown in the incoming tide.

He’d never be able to dig it out. It would be best if he walked away. Nobody knew that he’d seen the dog. Nobody would ever know that he’d left it to drown. It would be the easiest thing to do. Far easier than stay and deal with the consequences of trying to save the poor creature.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will said. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t help you, OK. I’m going to go now.’ The words sounded weak and pathetic as they left his lips. ‘There’s nothing I can do!’ he said to the dog. ‘I can’t help you. How can I help you? The fucking tide’s coming in! My phone’s dead! What can I do?’

The dog looked at him through mud-heavy lashes.

Oh Jesus.

What if he saved the dog? What if he brought it back to Marnie?

Would that make up for what he’d done to her before? For his abandonment of her?

Would the saving of one life in some way compensate for the taking of another?

Will vacillated. The water had come closer in the moments he’d wasted. He didn’t know if saving the dog would even be possible. He looked around again. Driftwood lay stranded on the mud, but nothing substantial enough to serve as a spade. He knelt beside the dog. He felt the chill through the fabric of his trousers, and began to scoop at the mud with his bare hands. It was thick and gritty, dark grey like ash, heavy and cold. It scratched his palms, tore at his fingernails. The body of the dog, as he dug away, felt no warmer than the sludge that enclosed it. The fur was disgusting against his skin, slimy, like the hair on a dead body must feel. He talked to the dog as he worked, trying to keep the tone reassuring.

‘You stupid animal. What did you have to go and get stuck here for? I’m doing this for Marnie, you know, not for you.’