Jennifer climbed onto the iceberg. "Help, help", she said. The voices were closer. And the others were the words that John had seen on the ice the day before. "We are not making this high at high tide." On the first snowfall, when the shell of a giant boat appeared on the quay, it was too late for anyone to rescue her.  

Within hours, she was swamped by water and high tide had dragged her out to the Rock and dropped her into a lifeboat.  

Before the rescue, John stepped over the well-worn wooden bench in front of the restaurant where they had been celebrating John's 86th birthday. He wiped a tear from his eye, looking at the magnificent view of Southsea through his half-moon glasses.