Page 102 of One Summer

I’m holding Ted tightly, but he doesn’t like the roar of the waves pounding onshore, and he wriggles vigorously. With a burst of strength I didn’t know he possessed, he leaps out of my arms and bolts up the beach, right as an enormous wave surges towards us.

I don’t have time to say a word; I just take off running after him. I call his name with no response before I remember that his recall word is ‘come’. But in his panic, he doesn’t come, he just runs away faster.

Eighty-Three

Undertow

The wave hits Ted – he doesn’t even seem to see it coming – and he’s sucked into the backwash, ragdolled like he weighs nothing, and trying desperately to get back on his feet. He’s a miniature Shih Tzu, a short-muzzled breed renowned for being poor swimmers. This is the end of him. He won’t be able to pull free of this undertow.

Suddenly, Caleb is powering past me and into the waves, reaching his hands out for Ted. He almost gets him, but another wave hits and Ted goes under the water. I can’t even see where he is in the swirl of the breaking waves. He’s dead. He has to be. No dog could survive this, let alone a tiny one like Ted.

But Caleb isn’t giving up. I see him dive under a breaking wave, which hits him with the force of an explosion, but when he comes up for air, he’s holding a lifeless Ted against his chest.

Eighty-Four

Retreat

I turn to shout at Joshua, but he’s no longer there. I see him retreating to the steps, red board under his arm, not wanting to see me weep over a dead dog, not wanting to feel responsible.

‘Caleb,’ I say, shuddering with sobs. ‘We need to get the vet.’

‘No time,’ he says, laying Ted on his right side and kneeling next to him. He brings Ted’s back legs up onto his lap, pushes down on his rib cage and water pours out of Ted’s mouth, but he shows no signs of life.

I watch, frozen, as Caleb puts his ear to Ted’s little snout and listens for signs of breathing.

‘Shit,’ he says, and looks at me desperately. Clamping Ted’s mouth together, he breathes into Ted’s nose, making his chest rise and fall. When nothing happens after a couple of breaths, he finds Ted’s last rib and begins chest compressions, using the heel of his hand on Ted’s side.

With an expulsion of water and vomit, Ted comes back to life.

Eighty-Five

Joy

I hold Ted to my heart and am overcome with more joy and relief than I have ever felt in twenty-six years of living.

‘How did you know what to do?’ I ask, my tears falling freely.

‘Not my first rodeo,’ he says, taking Ted from me, and zipping him gently back into his big jacket. ‘And he’s not out of the woods yet. We need to get him to the island vet as soon as possible.’

‘It’s too early,’ I say, desperately. ‘It won’t be open.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Caleb says, scrolling for the right number on his phone and dialling.

The vet answers almost instantly, and after briefly explaining the situation, Caleb ends the call.

‘He’s on the way to your house.’

‘We don’t have to take Ted into the practice to be seen?’ I ask.

Caleb shakes his head. ‘I’ve known the bloke since we were kids, and he only lives five minutes’ walk away from our cliff. He’s coming to us.’

Ted closes his eyes and falls asleep, his snores a reassuring accompaniment to our frantic walk home.

‘Thank you,’ I say, as we get back to my house, the vet already in sight on the coast path.

‘I’m just glad I could help.’

‘You didn’t just help. You saved his life. If it wasn’t for you, he’d be dead.’

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