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Oliver is staring at me with an alarmed expression. He’s gripped with fear. ‘Go get help!’ I yell at him.

He snaps out of it and runs off yelling, ‘Emergencia! Emergencia grande!’

The dog is frantically licking his owner’s face and making a whining sound like he’s crying. My heart lurches for him. This man looks as though he’s in his sixties or seventies. I’d bet the freezing-cold water brought on a heart attack. I go back to pumping ferociously on his chest.

‘Come on,’ I pray, making eye contact with the dog. He stops barking as though he knows what’s going on and doesn’t want to distract me. His eyes are full of intelligence.

It seems to last forever, and just as I begin to lose hope of saving him, his eyes spring open and he gasps for breath.

Thank God.

The dog smothers his face, his mouth, his ears with licks of joy until the man makes sense of where he is and what happened.

‘Lie still,’ I tell him, popping my backpack under his head for comfort. ‘Help is on the way.’ I’m hoping my tone is reassuring at least, if he doesn’t speak English.

A few minutes later, Oliver returns with a frightened-looking twelve-year-old boy holding a first aid kit. There’s a huge crowd behind him. The first aider takes one look at me holding the old man’s hand and breathes a sigh of relief. Oliver is staring at me as though I have single-handedly saved the planet.

* * *

I try very hard not to act like I make a habit of saving lives, but it is very difficult. The group are making such a fuss, especially Oliver.

‘The way you took charge. You’re incredible,’ he says, respect shining from his eyes.

I nod modestly. After all, the entire campervan of Bunnies and Stress-heads are listening to his praise.

‘And the way you trusted your gut, followed your instinct. If you’d listened to Endless Cloud the man would be dead,’ he observes. We hear an embarrassed cough from the front of the van. ‘And the way you handled the crowd afterwards and organised us all into a human stretcher. It was like a military operation. So focused. So efficient.’

I roll my eyes. Really, this adoration is too much.

‘Go on,’ I say, smiling cheekily at him. I’m hoping he repeats the part about me being an epic goddess.

Oliver catches my look and moves in close. He whispers in my ear, ‘I am hugely attracted to your strong sense of humility. It’s very endearing.’

‘And I am hugely attracted to your hero-worshipping.’

Oliver looks at me intensely and allows his gaze to fall to my lips. He looks for all intents and purposes like a man desperate to kiss me.

At that moment, we are thrown forward by the campervan screeching to a halt back at the retreat and Gandalf ordering everyone to get changed out of our swimming things and to gather at the Serenity Fountain in ‘twenty minoots for a surprise’.

Oliver and I scamper back to our rooms. I am as high as a kite with excitement, bursting with joy at the levels of hashtag respect hashtag boss lady vibes that Oliver is giving off. He lingers at his door, turning the big iron key slowly. While his eyes wander the length of my body hungrily, a nod of his head towards the open door invites me to join him. I get a flashback to my sister and her pronounced pelvic girdle and before I can help it, my hips are shifting into a slightly more flattering angle.

‘We have twenty minutes,’ he says.

My heart is racing. I know what goes on under that big sack of a robe. I have seen his magnificence for myself and I want it. I want it real bad. All twenty minutes of it.

‘Give me a second,’ I say, trying to keep from panting with lust. ‘I’ll be with you in just a moment.’

Jesus, now I sound like a doctor doing her rounds.

‘I’ll be waiting.’ Oliver winks at me. ‘Without the packet of crisps this time.’

Oh my God. It’s me who is about to have a heart attack.

I race into my room and over to the bathroom to brush my teeth and freshen up.

When I emerge, one glance around my bedroom stops me in my tracks. The newly made bed, the neatly folded clothes, the spotless floor and the distinct lack of stolen baked goods tell me I’m in big trouble.

A quiet knock on my door and Gandalf standing with a raised eyebrow and a bottle of wine in his hand confirms it.