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She could vaguely hear shouting from the boat as she ducked and dived repeatedly around the area at the back of the cruiser, her under-average vision probing the vastness of the murky depths for a small, small boy.
She could hear Theresa crying as she came up for air, and felt more desperate, more helpless. There were splashes beside her as Alex and Mike joined in the search. She dived down again, holding her breath until her chest throbbed and her eyes stung from the salt water.
She burst to the surface, taking huge gulps of air. Something brushed her leg and her pulse-rate leapt, a surge of adrenalin and panic flooding her system as she waited for the pain, for the searing heat. It took a split second for her to realise the touch was harmless, and another to duck her head under the water to check out the source, her heart hammering. Could it be?
Sam’s little body hung eerily suspended in the water, just near her toe. ‘Here!’ she called to the others, before diving down, grabbing him around the waist and kicking hard at the water to deliver them to the surfacepronto .
Then Alex was there, congratulating her, taking the frighteningly limp child from her, kicking powerfully to the boat, passing him up to Theresa. ‘I need you,’ he called over his shoulder to her as he hauled himself onto the boat.
Isobella responded instantly, as she suspected she always would to Alex, and swam to the side. He leant down and pulled her onto the boat in one sleek movement. Water sluiced off her, and their bodies brushed briefly before they turned their attention to a hysterical Theresa, who was hugging Sam tight and crying uncontrollably, shaking him and telling him to wake up.
Mike was trying to pry his son out of his wife’s arms, and Isobella glanced at Alex as the high emotion of the life-and-death situation enveloped her in its dreadful grip. Theresa’s anguish, her raw grief, was terrible to watch.
‘Theresa!’
Alex’s voice might have been rough and husky, but the command growled across the boat, cutting into her hysteria. Theresa stopped crying and looked at him.
‘Let Isobella and I take care of Sam.’
He held out his arms, and Isobella breathed a sigh of relief when Theresa relinquished her frighteningly still son to Alex’s care.
Alex laid him on the deck and they both knelt beside him, uncaring of their dripping state. Sam lips were blue, and already his little limbs were cold and mottled. He wasn’t breathing. ‘How long do you reckon he’s been apnoeic for?’ Alex murmured quietly.
Isobella shrugged, her brain trying to rapidly calculate while at the same time assimilate how such an active little boy could look so…lifeless. ‘Two minutes tops.’
‘He has a faint brachial pulse,’ Alex said, louder this time, trying to give Theresa hope.
Mike was holding her tight, telling her Sam was going to be all right. That he and Isobella were going to save him. Alex prayed it wasn’t too late. Signs of a pulse were encouraging.
‘Keep monitoring it,’ Alex instructed as he dipped his head towards Sam’s colourless face, grasped his chin, pinched his little nostrils and puffed air past his cold lips.
Isobella’s heart drummed madly in her chest as she watched the bob of Alex’s head. Reaction to her unplanned dip in the ocean warred with the desperate battle for life happening before her eyes. Now was not the time to freak out.
Sam’s pulse fluttered slow and weak against her fingers as she focused her attention on the task at hand. She pushed harder against the crook of his elbow, willing it to be stronger.
‘Get some blankets,’ Alex ordered in between puffs. ‘Something—anything—to get him warm.’
Isobella vaguely heard Theresa leave, no doubt grateful to have something to do that was going to help. Then a few seconds later Sam’s body spasmed, his shoulders jerked, and he coughed.
Alex sprang back as a fountain of sea water spewed from the little boy’s mouth and ran out of his nose. They quickly rolled him on his side and he started to cry. A great big beautiful wail that Isobella would never forget as long as she lived. His lips were already pinking up.
Theresa heard it, and she flew across the deck, sobbing his name.
‘Mummy,’ Sam wailed, between coughing and spluttering.
‘It’s okay, darling. Mummy’s here,’ Theresa choked, cocooning her son in the large beach towels she’d been carrying, lifting him in her arms, clutching him to her body. Mike dropped down beside his wife, hugging them both.
‘Thank you,’ Mike said, looking at both Alex and Isobella. ‘Thank you so much.’
