It came as a shock coursing through her body, igniting all her senses.

She had seen it coming, seen the teetering of the boat, seen him drop the pole, lose his balance, falling towards her in slow motion.

She had known the eventuality, yet it shocked her when her body plunged into the chilling late September water, her hearing muffled by the underwater silence, the all encompassing pressure against her, the sudden buoyancy of her body, and finally the noise of the splashes and air as she bobbed to the surface.

She bobbed, gasping for air, coughing, hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead.

Where is he? That clumsy oaf.

He was two metres away, recently emerging from the water too, his hair wet and flat against his head.

The punt was floating unperturbed next to him, even gaily, oblivious to its missing passengers. He held on to the side of the punt with one hand, and reached out to her with the other.

She glared at him, embarrassed to be in this mess on their first date, unsure of what to say next.