Wry titters from the group and then they followed Gareth to the riverbank. He told them where to sit: Jane and Paul at the front, Cherry and Daniel at the back. Each took a handle of the inflatable raft and, under Gareth’s instruction, pushed it into the water. They followed and Cherry felt the icy cold through her neoprene boots. They climbed in, the girls nervous, the boys full of bravado and excitement. Gareth got on the back and instructed everyone to start paddling. At first, it was calm, the water a semi-opaque algae green, the bank serene and tree-lined. A pleasant meander down the river, then all of a sudden the water dropped down as it ran over a series of boulders on the riverbed, creating a rush of pummelling white water that flooded the raft, soaking them, but they had no time to take in what had happened as the boat surged forward on another rapid, then crashed into some rocks like a dodgem. She held her breath as they spun round a full 360 degrees, then hurtled faster downstream, where more waves engulfed them, these at shoulder height. Cherry spluttered from the cold that slapped her face, then screamed with laughter.
‘Paddle left!’ yelled Gareth, and she realized, being on the left side, this was meant for her and Paul, and they were supposed to be helping propel the raft over the next set of rapids. She wildly plunged the paddle into the water, feeling completely ineffectual, particularly as she lurched sideways in the boat as it dipped over another boulder. Then another swift gradient change and more frothing water came up over the side of the raft. And so it went on, an exhilarating twenty minutes, all four of them thrown about laughing, clutching their paddles in the air, trying to listen to the instructions and use them when required. Suddenly the commands became more urgent – ‘Paddle to the right bank! Paddle!’ shouted Gareth. This must be the part, thought Cherry, where you had to get to the side to avoid the waterfalls. Even though the water had calmed considerably, it was harder than she thought and she struggled to fight the current as they all paddled to Gareth’s increasingly insistent shouts, eventually bringing the raft close enough to the bank that it was no longer dragged downstream.
‘Everybody out,’ said Gareth, and they climbed out of the raft and dragged it up onto the bank, where a team of two guys helped them pull it onto the back of a trailer. Cherry was grateful for the help – her arms and legs felt rubbery – and she took Daniel’s hand as he hauled her out of the water.
‘That was brilliant,’ he said, giving her a wet, river-tasting kiss, and she grinned back at him.
Once they were all in the minibus, its seats and floor wet with river water, they set off back up the hill. Gareth, who was in the front, turned round to face the four dripping passengers. ‘Everyone want to do it again?’
‘Yes!’ they yelled in unison, polite barriers well and truly knocked down.
The second time was just as fun, as was the third, with Cherry and Daniel changing places and sitting up front, which was even wetter and more thrilling, as you faced the rapids head on. They even got to grin at the professional photographer who was on hand halfway down the run to take snaps that you could buy afterwards. They’d been promised one more run if there was time and Gareth seemed to think they could squeeze it in. Each couple reverted to their original seats and started with the now-familiar gentle paddle down to the first rapid. Cherry, having been bounced and tossed down the river three times, was starting to feel tired. It took more effort to paddle when Gareth shouted his instructions, but the run started as intoxicatingly as those before. The water was as relentless in its determination to hurl them downstream, get them off its back.
‘Paddle left!’ yelled Gareth, and Cherry felt a mild irritation at having to do so: her arms were aching, and she was tired of hearing his self-important bellows. In the hesitation, the raft was caught in a sudden rapid, and as she raised her paddle, she was lifted up into the air and her arm swung outwards and whacked Daniel on the front of his head. She opened her mouth in alarm, but in the blur of movement that followed she hardly saw him propelled upwards, more heard the thud as he landed on a rock that jutted from the riverbank.
She strained to see over her shoulder, flicking her head from side to side as the raft belted down the river, expecting him to be waving at her, amused that he’d been thrown from the boat. But he wasn’t moving. Gareth was trying to look backwards too, both of them fighting the power of the water so they could see what had happened.
‘Paddle right,’ screamed Gareth suddenly, and Jane and Paul, the laughter dying on their lips when they saw one of their party was no longer in the boat, plunged their paddles into the water. Cherry was losing sight of Daniel, but then she caught a glimpse and he was still lying motionless on the rock. She tried to stand to get a better look.
‘Sit down,’ roared Gareth. She flinched, then sat back down and followed his urgent moves to paddle them to the bank.
Gareth was already on his radio calling in help as he ran up to the rocks. Cherry climbed out of the river, slipping on the bank and back into the water twice; then Paul yanked her hand to help her. She ran upstream to where Daniel lay, confused as to why he wasn’t getting up, and it was only when she saw him close up that fear flitted through her body. He was draped over a rocky outcrop, lying on his side, with his head lower than his body and his feet still dangling in the water. His face was pointing downstream, but his eyes were closed. His helmet had been knocked backwards and she saw a red welt on his forehead that in horror she suddenly realized was what she’d inflicted when she’d accidentally hit him with her paddle. Gareth was leaning over taking his pulse.
‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ she said, clambering over the wet rocks to get to him. She knelt down and touched his hand, which felt cold from the river. ‘Is he OK? Daniel, Daniel, talk to me.’ His face remained white and still; the only movement came from his legs, which were jerking up and down in the flow of the water.
The minibus pulled up in a screech of mud and two staff jumped out, carrying a first-aid kit. Behind them, on the bank, stood Paul and Jane, arms folded, helpless looks on their faces.
‘He’s breathing, isn’t he,’ she insisted angrily, not believing the alternative but saying it, just to eliminate it.
Gareth nodded. ‘We need an ambulance.’ One of the staff was already on the phone.
‘Daniel, Daniel,’ Cherry implored, stroking his cheek with her thumb. She squeezed his hands tightly as if that might wake him up. When it didn’t, she squeezed his arm.
‘Don’t move him,’ shot out Gareth, and she stared at him incredulous, none of it making any sense. The sound of sirens grew louder and then an ambulance raced up to the riverbank, stopping abruptly, its light still spinning, and two paramedics came running, carrying a stretcher. They took over. As they rolled Daniel carefully onto the stretcher, bluntly telling Cherry to get out of the way, they painstakingly took off his helmet and Cherry saw another mark, a red circular lesion on his temple. The paramedics expertly packaged him away, simultaneously asking questions about what had happened – had anyone moved him? How long had he been there? Who was his next of kin? – and as they deposited him into the ambulance, a red helicopter whirred into view above them, then landed somewhere beyond the trees.
Just before they closed the doors, one of the paramedics spoke to her: ‘You’re his girlfriend?’
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
‘The air ambulance will take him to Wrexham Maelor.’