Page 35 of A Scottish Island Summer

I chewed my lip.

The dolphin squirmed again, waggling its tail and sending a terrified spray of water up into the air.

Right. I couldn’t just stand here and watch the poor thing fighting for its life. I had to do something.

‘Oh, I hate you, Justine!’ I screamed into the salty sprays of air.

With a frustrated puff, I set my phone and camera down on a nearby rock, before leaning against it to tug off my thick socks and walking boots. I peeled off my fleece next. Then I looked left and right to make sure there wasn’t a sudden arrival of fifty people and whipped off my pyjama bottoms.

Thank goodness I’d kept a pair of my black panties on.

I was now standing with the icy cold North Atlantic water nipping at my bare toes, dressed in just my black panties and my pyjama top.

I let out a sharp gasp as I made my way over the carpet of dry, brittle coral and shells, and into the sea. I also let rip with a few choice expletives on the way.

The chilled salt water immersed my bare feet and legs, as I edged my way in. My shriek at the temperature almost matched the dolphin’s in frequency.

I set my shoulders and waded in a little deeper. Come on, Darcie.

Now the sea was swishing against my bare thighs.

I took a deep breath and tried not to panic as I reached the trapped dolphin. Its slick body was still thrashing under the water, its liquid blue eyes swirling at me. No matter how hard it tried, it just couldn’t escape from between the two rocks.

‘Sssh, it’s OK,’ I said to the frightened creature, not sounding at all convincing, even to myself.

I raised my right hand in the air and lowered it towards the dolphin’s smooth, shiny head. I gave it a little stroke. It felt slippery.

Frustrated, I yelled at the top of my voice, ‘Logan! Logan! It’s Darcie! Help!’

But my words evaporated into the wind.

Oh, why was I bothering? He couldn’t hear me. No doubt rampaging around somewhere, thinking about rocks.

Trying to stifle a shiver from the chilly blue water, I turned my attention back to the dolphin and waded around it, trying to see a way of dislodging it.

I started to mutter what I hoped were calming words. He was a bit bigger than I’d initially thought and I didn’t fancy getting clobbered by his tail if he panicked. What was I going to do?

I bent over and scooped up some of the seawater in my trembling hands. I threw it over his protruding blow hole and arch of gleaming back. ‘OK, Flipper, just give me a minute to figure this out.’

If I could try to ease him out from between the rocks or even give him a gentle push, it might be just enough to propel him out and then he could just swim away.

It sounded easier said than done when I played it back in my head, but doing something was better than doing nothing.

I jerked my hands back up out of the water and braced myself, before trying to angle him from one side. Oh, for the love of God. It was like trying to move a brick wall.

With the saltwater frothing around me, I made a few more attempts to push Flipper free.

But he just gazed mournfully up at me as if to say, ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?’

With the water leaping up and soaking even more of my pyjama top, I prepared myself again. I braced my arms and with one frustrated cry, pushed them underwater and against the dolphin’s flank.

But this time, I misjudged my actions on all fronts and stumbled backwards. The water closed in over my head like a freezing cold, salty roof.

The shock charged through me like an electric current.

I flapped and flailed, the gleaming grey image of Flipper’s fleshy underbelly bobbing up and down in front of me.

I started to try to swim, but a sudden, jerking motion on my arms made me gasp. I took in a mouthful of seawater.