The sight of the river, swollen and fast, didn’t alarm him. He stood for a moment, staring indifferently at the muddy mass swirling by until he heard voices. Turning his head, he saw Geoffrey on the bank downstream. But who was he talking to? Derek limped towards them and, as he approached, recognised Faye on the other side of the river.

Faye. His wife. Where had she been? Why had she come? Derek was as much surprised by seeing her as he was by the realisation he’d barely thought about her over the past forty-eight hours. How life had changed, he thought, trying to round up the scattered feelings, memories and images that seemed to flow through his mind. His thoughts spun, as opaque and transient as the river. There might have been more whiskey left in the flask than he’d thought.

Derek looked at Faye, feeling a stab of exasperation when he noticed her boots in the water. Was it necessary to ruin them? Had she forgotten how expensive they were? Her neck and blouse were a bloody mess. What had happened to her? Why was she shouting?

He tried to make sense of her words. Nothing she said added up. She was bloody, but fine. Geoff needed a helicopter. She had to go. So did he. Where were they going? The words bounced back and forth across the water, too quickly for Derek to grasp. All that stuck was that Clare was injured, critically so.

The pain of his powerlessness was intense. Geoff was to hurry for help. Faye was to rush back to the girl’s side. What about him? What about Derek? He should be there. Clare needed to know he was her father and he would make everything right for her. He also needed Michelle to understand he was devoted to her and her daughter. But neither Faye nor Geoff would listen.

He tried to give his wife a message for Clare but she walked away. He told Geoff about his and Michelle’s relationship and that Clare was his daughter, not the gardener’s. If Derek couldn’t convey the message to Clare, Geoff should do it. Geoff looked at him, eyes blinking with bafflement and doubt, asked a few questions until, with a final pitying glance, he too, hurried away.

It was, thought Derek, as if he was stuck in a nightmare. One of those in which no one would listen to him and he couldn’t move. His back ached and his head throbbed. He was disgusted by his impotence. Why did no one believe him? Why was he of so little consequence to everyone? Was his father right when he told Derek, “You’ll never amount to anything”?

No! He had to prove otherwise. He had to get to Clare.

“Derek!”