There was an old door, broken and full of splinters lying nearby on the riverbank.
Lord Ranulph dragged it over to the shoreline and they pushed it out onto the quivering wet mud.
It was still a few feet away from Adella and, though she struggled to reach it, she could not.
“If I lie flat on top of it,” Digby shook Jane’s hand from his arm and plunged forward.
He then threw himself onto the door and, although the slimy surface of the shore quaked under his weight, the wooden planks held firm beneath him.
He wriggled forward, reaching for Adella, who was now up to her waist in mud.
“Digby,” she whimpered, her teeth chattering with fear. “Help me.”
“I love you,” he called and, with a great effort, he caught hold of her fingers and the door lurched as he tried to drag her towards him.
