She struck solid rock again. This time, she grabbed at it wildly, managed to get a hold. Pulled herself close to it. She was numb to the pain but knew that her body was covered in scrapes and bruises. It was only luck that she hadn’t been dashed to pieces—luck and the fact that the water was calmer here, in the relatively sheltered channel between the two islands. The wind had dropped too. Not much, but enough that the waves were now only smashing into her face, not totally immersing her as they had when she’d first jumped in.
The jetty on Brecqhou was tantalisingly close. Two security lamps stood like sentries at the end, beacons in the darkness, throwing an eerie, silver glow on the surrounding water. In daylight, she might have had half a chance of reaching it overland—scrambling over the rocks, clinging to the coast or clambering up onto the headland—but under the cloak of night, it would be impossible. She had no way of knowing how high the cliffs were here, for a start. If she fell, she might break her neck, tumble into the sea, sink into the depths, fragments of her bones washed up with the sand in centuries to come.
She tightened her grip on the rock, not wanting to let go, instinctively feeling that the water was far more dangerous than the land but knowing that she had to get back in. No one was coming to rescue her. The only person who knew she was in trouble was Luke. And she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to send out a search party. If he even could. She strained to see behind her, back out towards the open water, looking for any sign of his boat. She’d listened to his shouts, heard the engine splutter, but the sounds had soon been drowned out by her gasps, her ragged breathing, her pounding heart.
Her fingers ached with cold. Maybe if she screamed, they’d hear her at the Mansion. Maybe. But what if Luke was floating out there, lights off, engine cut, just waiting for her to do exactly that? The more she strained her ears, the more she became convinced that she could hear the creaking of wood, the slapping of the waves against a hull, the faint, rhythmical clinking of cleats and carabiners. As she stared out into the blackness, she thought that yes, she could see him—there was movement out there, coming towards her, closer, closer now, a rush of warm air, the lightest touch, an unearthly, strangled cry—and then she did scream, a pathetic, rasping scream, her throat burned by seawater, and it was far fainter than that of the gull that brushed her as it flew by and, no doubt terrified, broke into hysterical screeching and chattering.
She shook herself. So long as she kept up momentum, she could make it. With as much force as she could muster, she threw herself away from the rock, back into the channel.
The water aided her now. She felt it pulling her through the passage between the two islands. She just had to get herself out of it before it swept her back out to open sea. She started towards the jetty, but the current was too strong; it carried her, rushed her into the pool of light and through to the other side. If she didn’t get out soon, she was done for. Already her strokes were weak and ineffective, barely keeping her head above water. She should have stayed on the rock, or better still, she should have stayed on Sark until morning. She should have left the pub without drinking too much, without leaving garbled messages on Michael’s phone, without agreeing to a boat ride with a virtual stranger. And as she weakened further, she made a silent plea, sent it out into the night, that if she got through this, she would do something with her life, something good.
She slipped under. Held her breath. Water in her nose, pooling at the top of her throat. Chest aching. Pressure building.
Drowning was supposed to peaceful—that’s what they said—but this was chaos and panic and pain. She thrashed and gagged, surfaced, just for a second, just enough for a gasp, half air, half water, then under again, deeper, darker, and it was like her soul was fighting to break out of her body, pushing from the inside out, and every part of her burned and ached until she had no choice but to open her mouth, to set it free.