Dead if You Don’t

100

Sunday 13 August

17.00–18.00

Mungo’s ears were filled with the echoing roar of the sea as it surged in, then sucked back out, pulling his legs harder and harder each time.

When it surged, the water level slopped up to his shoulders.

Oh God, help me please.

He looked up at the walls. At the vaulted brick roof covered in slime and weed, at another tiny crab that had suddenly appeared and was running up the wall a short distance from him, as if taunting him, as if saying, I can do this, so can you!

A takeaway carton floated past him. One way, then the other.

Mummy!

Daddy!

A massive surge of water came in, rising right up to his chin.

No. No. No.