The roads weren’t busy on a Sunday afternoon, and what traffic Rose saw was mostly heading away from the beaches. So she floored it, the ute roaring down the winding roads, the sand dunes and scrub whizzing past on either side. Those couple of weeks driving the long curved streets of Ocean Springs really helped when it came to racing along the roads that ran along the coastline, and she made record time.

‘Phone,’ she said as she drove, ‘call Nicola.’

‘Hey,’ Nicola said, ‘the live-stream’s just started. Where are you?’

‘Driving to Peretti Point. Old Steve recognised the dive site – supposedly it’s a fishing pier just near there.’

‘Good work, Old Steve.’

She swerved to overtake a slowpoke station wagon. ‘Have they shown Dave yet?’

‘Just in a montage bit at the start. Len’s still introducing the setup.’

‘If Dave’s on first it could be a bit tricky,’ Rose said. ‘Fingers crossed.’

‘They’ve cut to an ad break already,’ Nicola groaned. ‘Man, commercial television sucks.’

‘That’s good! Anything that delays things is what we want!’

‘Go consumerism! I feel like gambling! And also saddling my children with a hefty debt to pay for my funeral.’

‘Every ad takes me thirty seconds closer to saving Dave,’ Rose said, as much to herself as to Nicola.

‘Crap,’ Nicola said abruptly. ‘I think they’re starting with Dave.’

‘I’m still at least ten minutes away,’ Rose said. ‘Tell me he’s not in the water yet.’

‘No, they’re just talking to him, but he’s on the pier and he’s got a wetsuit and weight belt on.’

‘Shit.’ The curves she was racing down were getting tighter, the road narrower. Peretti Point was a surf beach with nothing but sand dunes and tangled scrub around it, and the fishing pier was on the other side of that. It would only take one ancient Kombi van laden with surfboards to pull out in front of her to slow her right down. She couldn’t cross her fingers and drive at this speed, so she muttered a prayer under her breath and kept going as fast as she dared.

‘Another commercial break,’ Nicola said, ‘I think when they come back he’s going in.’

‘Tell them to stop him!’ Rose shouted, taking a corner way too fast. She was coming up on the turnoff to Peretti Point, and according to the map the turnoff after that would lead to the pier. She couldn’t be more than minutes away. If they just dragged things out a little longer she’d make it.

She passed the turnoff. The road tilted up, following a slight rise that hid the pier from sight. What if Old Steve was wrong? she suddenly thought. What if I get over the top and there’s nobody there?

She crested the hill. Down below was the pier. There were a number of vans and cars clustered in the car park a short distance away, and she could see people with cameras standing at the end of the pier. She could also see a man in a wetsuit and goggles, standing with them at the pier’s edge. She wasn’t too late.

And then, as she hurtled down the hill, Dave did a backflip and silently splashed into the sea.

‘He’s gone in!’ Nicola yelled. ‘He just flipped over the edge.’

‘I’m here,’ Rose said, ‘I just saw it.’

The ute skidded more than once as she raced down towards the car park, wheels losing traction on the sand that had drifted across the road. Briefly the thought crossed her mind that maybe she should drive onto the pier itself, but as it rapidly came closer it was clear that it was a shaky wooden structure that she’d be more likely to drive through than onto. And now that she was here, suddenly it was clear that she had no idea what to do next. Run onto the pier, obviously. But if Dave was fine, what then?

She came to a screeching halt in the only car park left and leapt out, barely remembering to lock the door behind her. She was halfway to the pier when she realised she’d left her phone behind, but that didn’t matter. Some of the crew had spotted her pulling up and a woman was walking down the pier to meet her. It was Steph the colour producer, a smirk on her face and a beanie on her head.

‘Rose,’ Steph said. ‘I can’t say I was expecting to see you here. Or anywhere near Mansions in the Sky ever again.’

‘You know Dave can’t swim, right?’ Rose brushed past her and stepped onto the pier.

‘Of course he can swim,’ Steph said, hurrying after her. ‘Who can’t swim?’

Rose strode down the narrow wooden structure. It was a lot shorter than it had looked from the shore, and Rose had to watch her step to avoid stumbling over the trash fishermen had left behind. She nearly tripped over an esky that someone had filled with rocks.

‘You need to get him out of the water, right now.’

‘We’ll do no such thing,’ Steph said.

Rose stepped over a hole in the planking with a pile of boards stacked neatly beside it for future repairs. ‘What part of “he can’t swim” didn’t you understand?’

‘He told us he could swim, he was happy to get in the wetsuit, and the wreck is only, what – ’ she turned to a crewman, who shrugged, ‘– maybe six metres down? He’ll be fine.’

Rose looked down at the ocean. It was windy out here, and there was a steady swell, the surface a greasy grey capped with flecks of white. ‘He hasn’t come up.’

‘There he is,’ one of the crew said, pointing further out.

Dave had broken the surface but was clearly struggling. He had a chunk of wood with him, a thick rib of timber about a metre long. Unsurprisingly – to Rose, at least – it didn’t float after however many decades under the sea, and Dave was swinging it feebly around his head, trying to push it out of the water. It was too heavy. It was clearly weighing him down.

‘Drop the wood!’ Rose yelled.

He didn’t hear her. He had one arm around the wood, the other now waving about as the waves battered him.

‘Go in,’ Steph said quietly. Beside Rose, a man in a wetsuit appeared and dived smoothly into the water. Steph looked to Rose and smiled. ‘You don’t think we weren’t prepared for this?’

Rose watched the diver swim smoothly over to the struggling Dave, then promptly get whacked in the head by the chunk of wood Dave was waving about. The diver tried again to get close to Dave, who was thrashing about and refusing to let go of the prize he’d brought up from the bottom. The diver lunged for Dave, just as Dave swung the timber in a long arc. The lump of wood connected audibly once more with the diver’s head.

‘Fuck this!’ the diver roared, turning around and heading back to the pier. As he climbed the ladder, Rose could see a thin stream of blood trickling down from his temple. ‘I’m not saving that maniac from himself,’ he told Steph. ‘You reality TV people are fucked.’

‘Got a plan B?’ Rose said.

Steph shook her head.

‘Good thing I’ve been in this situation before, then,’ Rose said, hurrying back to where the planks were stacked. She grabbed a couple then rushed back to the end of the pier. She dropped them at her feet, them pulled off her jumper. Quickly she used it to tie the planks together in a cross shape, then yelled as loudly as she could. ‘Dave! Grab on to this!’

If it worked for that dog, hopefully it’ll work for Dave, she thought, and threw the crude flotation device out towards him. It spun through the air and landed right next to him.

‘Great throw,’ one of the crew shouted.

It would have been simple for Dave to reach out and grab it, keeping him afloat. Only there wasn’t any Dave; he’d sunk below the surface.

‘No!’ Rose cried.

After some harsh words from Steph, the rescue diver leapt back off the pier. He swam out and ducked beneath the surface to check for Dave, but rapidly came back up empty-handed. ‘He’s sinking too fast,’ he shouted. ‘He won’t let go of that wood.’

Rose turned and hurried down the pier. Finding the esky full of rocks she’d almost tripped over, she picked it up and lugged it back down to the pier’s end. Without a word she kicked off her boots, picked up the esky, and jumped off into the ocean.

With its weight in her arms she sank straight to the sea floor. It was a long shot – if she didn’t find Dave before she had to surface, she wouldn’t have time for a second try. The visibility wasn’t great, but she knew which direction he was in, and that wood he was hanging on to would stop him from drifting away.

She hooked the esky handle over her elbow and swam forward, using it as ballast in the churning water. She’d come all this way. She wasn’t going to let him drown now.

At first she thought she was seeing part of the wreck. But another strong stroke with her free arm propelled her forward … and no, it was Dave, still holding onto the wood he’d collected. One more stroke and she was on top of him, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from the dead weight. Then she pushed him upwards, and for an instant she thought she didn’t have the energy to follow. But she dropped the esky, kicked her legs and clawed up with her arms, and soon she was rising of her own accord. When she broke surface the flotation device she’d made was right in front of her, and Dave was hanging onto it.

A wave picked the device up and almost dumped it on her. Which was lucky, because she wasn’t sure she had the strength to swim to it.

‘How?’ Dave gasped. ‘How did you get down to me so fast? I thought it was over when I hit bottom.’

‘I just remembered something you once told me,’ she said weakly. ‘That’s how I knew I could get to you.’

‘What did I say?’ Dave said. Behind him the rescue diver had swum up, and grabbed the flotation device, getting ready to tow them to shore.

‘I was your rock,’ Rose replied. ‘You said I was your rock.’