The water was impossibly cold and shockingly silent. I sank like I a stone statute, the life preserver ripped from my arms as though it was a champagne cork blasting off in celebration. Frozen with the horror of the situation, I hung in the water. The thought of seeing anything in the shadows kept my eyes closed against the salt water; I think if I'd seen a shark or a giant squid, my heart would have crapped itself and shuddered to a halt.

Kick, a voice commanded inside me. So, I kicked. I kicked out at the world as it had become, kicked against every self-loathing thought, kicked back at all the awful crap we'd been through just to get to this point. I pushed up through the water and broke the surface, gasping at the reality I'd burst into.

I was sitting at the bottom of a swell, waves like walls around me on every side. No sign of the boat or Mischa, but the life saver floated miraculously a few feet away. I slashed through the surface, threw my arms around the preserver and squeezed it tight. The rain pelted down on me, running into my eyes as I gripped the slippery plastic of the ring and frantically searched for any sign of anything.

Then, the waves rolled beneath me, lifting me to the top of the swell. I spotted the top of the yacht sails over my left shoulder, already startlingly far from where I floated. "Mischa!" I screamed, twisting to scan in every direction for the sight of her little blonde head.

There. I spotted a flash of red. Mischa's flannel shirt, just over the next rise. With one arm hooked on the life preserver, I powered towards her.

Kick. Kick. Splutter. Kick. The rain continued to assault me and the chop found its way into my mouth at frequent intervals. I lost sight of Mischa as I sank to the bottom of another well, but rather than panic, I kept pushing on. She'll be there, I told myself, putting my face into the waves again. Kick. Kick. Kick.

The swell lifted me again – was I imagining it, or did it seem lower than the last time? "Mischa?" I yelled. The red shirt was closer now, but to my horror, I could see that the little girl was floating motionless on the surface. "No!" Carving through the chop, I closed the distance between us.

"Mischa? Mischa!" The rain was easing, as if in reverence for the still figure floating before me. Mischa's eyes were closed, her cherubic face beaded with moisture and turned to the sky. "No. Please, no..."

Mischa's eyes popped open. "Karla! I did what you taught me! I floated!"

With a relieved sob, I hugged her little body to my chest. "You sure did, sweetheart. You're amazing."

"Did I do okay?"

"You did great - here, jump in this." I helped her wiggle into the floating ring as we crested the next wave, which was definitely smaller than the last one.

As Mischa settled her backside into the hole, her legs dangling over the side, she said, "The rain is stopping. I think it's over."

"I think you're right." It was a double-edged sword; there was less chop and swell, but it also meant less lift, less opportunity to search for the yacht. I could feel the current strongly sucking us along, but I had no idea if we were travelling in the same direction as the boat or if were headed towards another point on the compass entirely.

Rather than give in to panic, I anchored myself to the side of the ring as best I could without flipping it and tried to keep my legs still to save energy. "Look, blue sky," I said, pushing the damp ringlets back from her forehead.

"Pretty." She blinked her blue eyes and stared in wonder at the cracks in the clouds where the light glowed golden. I tried to calculate the distance between the sun and the horizon; I didn't know the time, but I knew it was well after lunch. We had only a few hours of daylight to be found, or we'd be spending the night at sea – and I didn't need Google to tell me that our chances of survival were pretty slim if that happened.

We floated calmly for a while as the rain cleared and the seas stilled. Something occurred to me, a lingering recollection from an old shark week episode. "Mischa, do you need the bathroom?"

"No."

"Okay. Maybe, don't go unless you really have to, okay?"

She crinkled her nose. "Why?"

Because sharks are way more attracted to human urine than blood. "Because, silly – I'm right here next to you. I don't want to be swimming in pee!"

Mischa giggled. "Okay, I won't. Where do you think daddy is?"

"I'm not sure." I'd been scanning for any sign of the white sails, but it was flat and saxe in every direction. Refusing to let the terror in, I squeezed Mischa's hand. "I'm sure they're looking really hard for us though."

After another hour of floating, I realised how cold I was. I hadn't noticed when I was swimming for my life, but now my body was still, I was powerfully reminded that this was the Tasman sea, fed by Antarctic waters. As I began to tremble, I had to wonder if hypothermia might get me before exhaustion or exposure did.

Mischa said, "Your fingers are blue."

"I'm part-Smurf, don't you know?"

"You're funny. Can we play a game?"

"Sure. Anything but I-spy."

We played 'When I went to the supermarket,' which Mischa was exceptionally gifted at – I could barely remember three or four items before my brain started throwing up blanks, more focused on the logistics of our current situation than on fictional shopping lists.

Mischa started her next turn. "When I went to the supermarket, I bought a mango, sushi rice, an ice cream cake, and a... A hair brush!"

I tried to picture each item in a shopping basket, a shopping trip that my former self might have made on a Friday evening, maybe on my way to hang out with Bailey, picking up a new hair brush because it was pretty and I liked the bamboo handle and I deserved a treat. It was a world that didn't exist anymore; no more imported tropical fruit or frozen desserts or superfluous beauty products. Even if Mish and I died in the middle of the ocean, that world was gone for everyone.

Sudden tears clogged my throat and I raised my face to the sky in an attempt to let them absorb back into my eyes. Mischa frowned. "It's your turn, Karla."

"You know what, honey? Let's play I-spy after all."

Time passed, the sun arcing over the sky, my alarm raised with every inch it dropped toward the horizon. No sign of the Great Escape, or land, or a friendly pod of dolphins who might be wooed through song to tow us to shore, which seemed doable if I could actually carry a note instead of sounding like a wailing cat with its tail caught in a-

Bump. Something brushed up against me, something large and rough; it scraped the exposed skin between my sock and my pants, and my leg immediately began to sting. Horror wracked my body as I stifled a scream.

"Karla? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I'm just remembering how sharks' skin is as rough as sandpaper and I'm pretty sure we're being circled right now. I dragged my lips into something resembling a smile. "You didn't pee, did you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Hey, do me a favour? Cross your legs so they're out of the water? Then maybe we'll just be real quiet for a while, okay?"

"Okay."

I kept my body as still as possible, trying to control the trembling in my limbs caused my cold and fear. Nothing but driftwood here, sea monsters. Every second, I fully expected my legs to be ripped off by razor sharp teeth. They could have me, I could handle dying in the most horrible way imaginable, but they needed to leave Micha alone. Please. Please...

A minute passed, then another. Ten minutes. Twenty. The sun dipped lower, and the fear of dying by shark was replaced by fear of dying of cold again. "G-god d-dammit." My teeth chattered as I scanned the horizon. The chill had spread to my chest now and was starting to creep into my arms.

A sniff. Mischa wiped her face, tears dripping silently. I berated myself for not staying more optimistic for her sake. Rallying, I said, "Hey, hey – what's wrong? We're okay, you're okay."

"It's my fault." Her lip quivered and she pressed her face hard against my shoulder. "My fault we're here."

"What? No, honey, it's not. It was the storm."

"No, I did it. I let Chookie out."

"Look, yes..." I conceded. "But you weren't trying to make trouble, were you?"

She shook her head, her salty curls sliding around her neck like sea snakes. "No! It's just that you said, 'Don't listen to Daddy,' so I didn't, and I let Chookie and Bella out."

"Ah." Shit. I forgot how literally kids took everything. I'd meant not to listen to her dad about eating the chicken, but that didn't matter now. "You know you don't have to listen to everything I say, right?"

"I do!" she said earnestly. "You're awesome, Karla."

I laughed, trying to make it gentle for her sake. "I'm really not, honey." I'm a mess, an over-weight underachiever with an abusive ex I was willing to reconcile with just because he asked. This kid was borne from a supermodel's loins; seriously, if I had to choose between idolising the world's most beautiful woman and a chubby Netflix addict, I know which one would have had my vote.

"You are. I told my dad, I want to be just like you."

"I bet that went down well..." I mused. Nothing like hearing your child wanted to emulate your ex. Well, sort-of ex; I wasn't sure if what I'd had with Rueben even counted.

"I've been dressing like you too. Did you see?" She held up her soggy flannel shirt tails, evidence of her wardrobe homage.

Touched, I said, "Thanks, Mish. I think you're awesome too."

"When dad first brought me to meet you guys, I thought you didn't like kids."

"I like this kid very, very much." I gave her an awkward one-armed hug, crying out inside my mind. Neptune, I need a miracle here. This kid was incredibly resilient; she'd lost her mum, Simon and Nev. She shouldn't die at sea. Not like this.

It was getting distinctly darker now, each wave casting its own shadow as the world turned scarlet with the sunset. Mischa deserved the truth. There was a real possibility that I wouldn't be able to cling to the ring all night; at some stage, I'd become too cold and too fatigued to hold on. My arms were already aching and cramping, my legs numb from the knees down. It was only a matter of time before my body let go.

When that happened, I'd sink and drown, but Mischa would be okay - at least for a while. Two days without water would be the longest she could survive, but just maybe, that would be enough for Rueben to find her.

My tears had started again, scalding against my cheeks as I mentally prepared my goodbye talk. It seemed fitting to be surrounded by salt water, adding to it with my own. "Hey, Mish? I need to say something to you."

Her cherubic face creased in worry. "What?"

"I need to talk to you something really serious..." Dammit! A sob hitched in my chest. This isn't fair. Not on her, not on me. I'd never expected life to be fair – I'd learned that lesson early on, when some of the girls in high school could eat like pillaging Vikings and never gain an ounce, while I ate like a normal person and instantly gained weight.

But I also didn't expect this level of shit-fuckery. Trying to tell an eight-year-old she'd soon be floating alone on the ocean with a miniscule change of rescue, that her final moments would be racked with thirst, terror and isolation.

As I steadied my breathing, Mischa spoke. "I know what this is about," she said solemnly.

"You do?" God, she was perceptive. I squeezed her hand tightly. "You just need to know that whatever happens, no matter how bad it gets-" What was I going to say? That she'd be okay? That death didn't hurt? That her mum and Simon would be waiting on the other side with a buttload of chooks and endless hugs? I couldn't guarantee anything, not even to comfort her.

While I struggled with how to end my sentence, Mischa said, "This is about the gun, isn't it?"

"What?"

"I only took it because you weren't using it, and I wanted to be able to protect us if there were any pirates or anything."

"Mish, what are you talking about?"

She wiggled in the plastic tube, shrugging the straps of her backpack off. "I took the gun out of your bag when you weren't looking. It's in here."

Her tiny hands shoved the backpack at me, and I froze. I could feel the heft of the weapon in the bag, and I was gripped by thoughts so awful, I couldn't breathe. Inside, were dangerous new options; kill myself and Mish, make it as painless as possible. Leave her with the gun when I inevitably drowned, giving her instructions for if things got too painful to go on.

Wanting to throw up, I smiled weakly and said, "Thank you for telling me, Mish. That was very brave."

"Am I in trouble?" she asked, her voice tremulous as the dying sun caught her blonde hair with ruby highlights.

"No, honey." I mean, sure, in a normal situation, I would have lectured her about the dangers of stealing and deadly weapons, but hell. Chances were, we had less than a few hours to live anyway.

I'd kept the gun in a ziplocked bag inside my backpack, along with the bullets. If the plastic bag was split, I doubted it would fire anyway. I needed to check, then I could either put my morbid thoughts away, or analyse them and make some of the hardest choices of my life.

I opened the bag. "No... Way..." Reverently, I pulled out the gun, trembling with sudden hope. "Mish – this is... It's the..."

"It's the gun you used on the pig," she said shyly. "You saved Bella with it, so it must be lucky, right?"

I raised the gun, safe inside its waterproof home. "Let's hope so, baby girl."

With shaky fingers, I pulled out the gun, never so glad to see an item in my life. Someone could have offered me a cell phone and the world's largest platter of doughnuts and I couldn't have been more excited. "Mish, do you know what this means?"

"What?"

"You might have just saved us."

"How?"

"Mischa, this is a flare gun! It's designed to help find people who are lost!"

"Oh! I thought it just was good for getting rid of pigs and bad guys."

"Three flares," I counted, quickly shoving one into the barrel. "Cross everything."

Mischa crossed her arms, legs, fingers and eyes.

"Here we go." I raised the gun and fired at the nectarine sky.

The flare exploded upwards, radiating brilliant sparks. It rose so high, Mischa and I craned our necks to watch it as it curved gently overhead, leaving a bright trail in the sky.

"Now what?"

I was decisive. "We'll wait a bit longer until the sun is almost down, then we'll fire the second one." Hopefully, Rueben had seen the first flare; a second would keep him on track.

We tracked the sun, deciding that two finger-widths from the skyline was close enough. I fired again, then we both peered into the distance, searching for salvation.

"I see something!" Mischa yelled.

"Where?" I squinted, following her finger.

"There!"

"I think that's just the waves, Mish."

"It's not! Daddy says that kids have way better eyesight than old people."

"Hey! I'm not old, thanks."

"Yes, you are. And I'm right! Look!"

My eyes were almost squeezed shut in concentration, but I finally saw it; tiny white sails. "Oh my god," I sobbed. "It's them."

As they drew closer, the triangles of the sails growing larger and larger, I fired the final flare, guiding them to us. The sound carried well over the water, and before long, I could hear voices calling to us. Mish screamed back. "Daddy! We're here!"

The distance closed and I kicked us towards the yacht, letting Mischa do all the shouting; I was weeping too hard by then to make anything but moist whimpers.

The boat expanded like a magic trick, from a tiny blip to a hull that soared above our heads. It drew up beside us just as the sun dipped fully under the horizon, and I reached for the dangling ladder with desperate hands. "Mish, you first."

She scampered up easily, carting the life preserver ring that had saved our lives with her. I hooked my arm over the bottom rung of the ladder, shivering and so relieved she was saved that my body was ready to conk out and let me drift away with the tides.

"Karla, what are you doing?" said an annoyed voice above me. "Give me your hand and get your butt up here."

Tilting my weary head, I saw Bailey with their arm reaching for mine. "Okay," I said softly.

They gripped me tightly and dragged me over the edge, where I collapsed to the deck. Bailey threw themselves on me for a massive hug and said, "You are so freaking extra, you know that? I don't want to come out of my room, and you throw yourself overboard so I have to? What is wrong with you?"

I laughed, which quickly morphed into sobs of relief and cold and delayed terror. Beside us, Rueben was weeping too, Mish in his arms as he rocked her. "Dad, I'm fine," she said, wiggling.

"I thought I lost you," he said, his voice broken. He reached for me with his other hand. "I thought I lost you both."

"Dad, I told you – we're fine. Karla can do anything."

His eyes connected with mine. "Thank you for my daughter," he whispered.

"You're welcome," I replied, warmth and gladness flooding through me with the knowledge that even if I never accomplished anything else in my life, I had done this, and that was enough.

So a strange thing happened after I posted my last chapter: a little something called Coronavirus raced around the world with frightening speed.

My birthday was at the end of February, and it was a delightful day; I visited an art gallery and shopped with my mum, my husband took me out for dinner and a show, I hung out with my grandmother and blew out candles with my extended family.

Only a month and a bit later, and that day seems like part of a distant world. Now, I can't visit my nan or duck into H&M during my lunch break in the city. The galleries are closed, every show in the country is cancelled. My kids are home with me, I'm working from my kitchen table, and every step outside our home feels fraught with danger.

And suddenly, writing a novel about the end of the world wasn't an escape the way it used to be. Theoretical musings about how people would act in the case of a global event were a reality - watching Aussies punch up over toilet paper and scream at each other if someone dared to sneeze on public transport changed how I view humanity forever.

I'm committed to finishing this book - one more chapter and an epilogue - but it's not the joyride it started out as. Well, as much as a book about the end of the world can be a joyride, lol.

Please, wherever you are, stay safe. Wash your hands, take this virus seriously, look after the people you love, practice physical distancing, and keep an eye on your mental health.

All my love, xx Kate