Dying To Dive E-Book

Erin Miller

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 312

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A diving club holiday in idyllic Cornwall, but these people are not what they seem. Karen Winter, a nervous diver due to a previous accident unwittingly gradually discovers their secrets.

Leseprobe

ERIN MILLER

Dying To Dive

For Mark and Jonathan

The Author has also written:

Girl In A Wheelchair – Tredition Book of the Month

Copyright © 2020 Erin Miller

Publisher: tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Germany

ISBN

Paperback:

978-3-347-15746-0

Hardcover:

978-3-347-15747-7

eBook:

978-3-347-15748-4

Printed on demand in many countries

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by publisher copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

PREFACE

Knifing through the warm, clear sea, at Koh Tao, Thailand, multi-coloured fish part in their shoals as I continued on my journey down towards the seabed. Flipping over onto my back for a moment, I watched thin, luminous fish swim above me, uncaring or unaware of my presence. Moving like a seal, I passed over coral reefs and swam into a gully, where fungi like plants grew out of the rocks. At times it seemed surreal.

Other divers flipped and turned above me, some able to hold their breath for longer than others. Many stayed on the surface with snorkels, unable or unwilling to chance their breaths. Thanks to my training as a teenager in sychronised swimming – county champion, no less - I was able to continue.

On my own and under water: there was no-where else I would rather be. I forgot time, as my breath seemed to last forever.

A sudden jerk and pain in my foot pulled me up short. My fin was trapped in the crevice of a rock .Pulling from all directions proved fruitless. I struggled to undo the fin, but the release mechanism was jammed in the rock. A trickle of blood began to spill out of my ankle.

I had been negligent in swimming too low over the jagged reef. Caught up in the experience, I had forgotten safety.

The breath, which had previously seemed endless, was now rapidly nearing termination. I felt my lungs would burst if I was here much longer. Slowly bubbles escaped from my mouth, beyond my control…

DYING TO DIVE

By Erin Miller

There is more to see

Once you look

Beneath the surface

Rogan Harrington

CHAPTER ONE: Friday Evening.

Torrential, monsoon-like summer rain battered the windscreen of my aged Jeep, a ‘hand me up’ from my younger brother. A police siren screamed up behind me, then sped past. Worn wipers struggled to compete with the constant grey spray from passing lorries on the water strewn road. The A303 blurred into the distance - a slippery snake lost in a murky haze. Names, familiar from journeys to childhood holidays, floated by: Basingstoke, Andover, Yeovil …

I rubbed my eyes with one hand, whilst holding the juddering steering wheel with the other. The vibration had started recently at speeds of over 40mph. I would have to take it to the garage when I got home and pay another fortune. I wondered how much longer I would be able to afford to keep yet another old wreck going.

Straight from work, and a six hour drive to Cornwall. No wonder I was tired. Was I mad? But Luke had insisted we come tonight, so that we could make the most of diving tomorrow. Weather permitting, of course.

My boyfriend snored loudly in the passenger seat. His clothes were their usual crumpled selves: he took no interest in his appearance. His thick, black rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose. His tee-shirt was faded and coffee stained. His jeans had real holes in them – not the designer type. When I had first met him, I had found this look somehow endearing, as if he wanted mothering. Now I just wished he would make some effort.

To be fair, he had been working most of the night before, and all today, on a major I.T. blip at work. Luke the hero, the specialist, the number one go-to. His life revolved around computers. But he was amazingly talented at what he did, or so his employers seemed to think.

The back seat of the car was stuffed full of scuba dive gear, with little room for our suitcase. Two large dive boxes sat, one on top of the other, blocking most of my view through the rain smeared rear window.

A whole week away. It sounded great, in theory. A week away from our pressured jobs and from my pokey flat, made even pokier since Luke had moved in. I wondered again, why we couldn’t have lived in his flat. It’ll save money, he said. I can rent it out for more than we would get for your flat. We don’t need much space. I grimaced. Speak for yourself, I had argued. But, as usual, lately, we did things Luke’s way.

A speeding van came past, showering my car with dirty rainwater. How could anyone see well enough in these conditions to drive so fast? The road had become a mirror and the distorted, reflected lights of cars swam in puddles. Concentration was hard.

My train of thoughts returned to Luke. I hated thinking of myself as some kind of victim, or downtrodden female. I encouraged myself to believe that I was a strong, independent woman, in full control of her life. However, the truth was often rather different, I forced myself to admit.

I was 38 years old. I had never had a relationship that had gone further than two years. You see, I have this empathetic side to me which always draws me towards men with problems. I feel sorry for them and fall for their hard luck stories. I want to fix them. And I never can. And then I feel let down.

A psychiatrist might call it frustrated motherhood. And yes. I would have liked, would still like, a baby. I just couldn’t see it happening now, especially not with Luke. Not the way our relationship seemed to be going at the moment.

I desperately needed a shot of caffeine. My eyes were straining on the river that the road had become, and a nagging, throbbing pain had begun over my left eye. I decided to stop at the next services. The last thing I needed was a migraine, or worse still, to fall asleep at the wheel!

Luke stirred as I stopped the car, in the closest bay I could find to the services‘ entrance, which wasn’t at all close, of course. I struggled into my thin denim jacket, to protect me from the wet run across the car park to the shelter of the building.

“Why have we stopped?” Luke lunged at his glasses as they fell off the end of his nose and dived towards the floor.

“I need coffee. And a sugar hit.” I replied, feeling my anger creeping up. Did he think I was some kind of robot? “Do you want anything?” I added, rather huffily.

“Nah.” He yawned. “Don’t be too long. It’ll take forever in this shitty weather. I need a good sleep before tomorrow.”

And I don’t? Not for the first time, I regretted agreeing to this trip. What I would give, right now, for a week on a beach in Greece or Spain, or indeed, anywhere hot, with nothing to do but relax. My tentative suggestion at this idea had been shot down in flames.

We need to do something, Luke had insisted, I would be bored just lying on a beach. Maybe he would, but I certainly wouldn’t!

Luke had been scuba diving since he was in his mid-twenties – he was now 35. He was, in fact, a qualified diving instructor, but preferred to go on dives that others had arranged. Less hassle, he said. More time to do what I want, instead of having to look after other people. Yes, selfishness was one of his major failings.

I, on the other hand, had only started scuba diving when I met Luke. I had been very reluctant. Memories of a free-diving accident still lingered in my mind. Over the years, I had tried to suppress my fear of being under water, but it had never quite left me. I blinked away the horrible picture my brain had just produced. My lungs at bursting point, whilst my foot was trapped in a rock.

Luke had been quite encouraging at first, wanting me to share in his passion, until he realised that I was a very nervous diver. He booked me in for lessons at the nearest Dive Centre, and then let me get on with it. I was a slow learner, as it took me a while to trust the breathing apparatus, but eventually I passed the first qualification.

Other than the training dives, this would be my first experience of proper diving. I was somewhat anxious. Not only of the diving, which would be deeper and more challenging than I had done in the training, but also of having to spend a whole week in close quarters with people I did not know very well, some I hadn’t even met, and most of whom were experienced divers. I am not the most social or confident of beings. I worried endlessly about having a panic attack under water and spoiling everyone’s dive. And that everyone would resent having such a klutz on their holiday.

Shuffling forward in the queue for coffee, I eyed up the pastries on display. I needed a sugar boost to get me through the rest of the drive.

As I wandered back through the services, clutching my coffee, cake and packet of painkillers, I decided to treat myself to a book. I had stupidly managed to run over my e-reader last week – it had dropped out of my bag, as I got into the car, and I hadn’t noticed. Another thing I couldn’t afford to replace. A crime thriller by one of my favourite authors came into view. It was my favourite genre. I was determined to make time for some relaxation, I decided, whatever Luke said. We weren’t joined at the hip and it was my holiday as well as his.

Edging the car up a winding, one track lane towards, what the Sat Nav suggested, was the holiday destination, I peered through heavy aching eyes. It was dark now, and the parking area at the front of the cottage held only one other car. A small porch light twinkled in the drizzle, the heavy rain having finally subsided a little.

“Are you sure this is it?” I questioned Luke, who had reluctantly had to remain awake for the last few miles to help me navigate through small Cornish lanes in the poor visibility.

“Jake beat us to it!” exclaimed Luke, rapidly becoming animated, now that his week of diving was in sight.

Evidently the Mazda MX5 belonged to my diving instructor. I cringed a little, remembering what a timid learner Jake had thought me, before tiredness started to overwhelm me and my silly worries. I just wanted a shower and bed. Something to eat would be great, but I didn’t have the energy to cook. I couldn’t remember what the cooking arrangements were, but if I had to make do with a slice of toast it was fine.

Staggering in with my dive box, I found Luke, who had rushed into the cottage empty handed, in the kitchen. He had already been handed a scotch by Jake, who looked relaxed in cream chinos and a white shirt, undone enough to reveal some chest hair. His petite Romanian girlfriend, Natalie, whom I had met briefly once, was busy laying out a feast of food on the table. The smell was divine. It was just what I needed. My spirits began to restore themselves.

She smiled at me. “Hi. How was your drive? Such awful weather! Jake and I came down this morning, so we have been here a few hours. Thought it would be nice to get everyone round the table for a meal tonight and dive planning for tomorrow!”

I smiled and gratefully accepted the wine glass which Natalie was proffering, gulping half of it down too quickly, before setting it on a bookcase and returning to the car, which was obviously not going to unpack itself.

I was still unloading the car 15 minutes later – yes, just me – Luke was deep in dive chat with Jake – when an estate car crunched into the drive. A man in his 50s emerged, scruffily dressed, long grey hair in a ponytail, looking tired and annoyed. It was John Cummings, the other dive instructor with the club. In the passenger seat, was his disabled wife, Trisha. I had met her once at a pub social, but had not had much opportunity to talk to her on that occasion. I knew she did a lot of behind the scenes work for the club, and it was generally her who sent out emails and information.

I considered that it would be quite a boring week for her, stuck in the cottage while we were all off diving. Maybe I could stay and keep her company one day?

I questioned myself. Was I really being altruistic here, was I trying to escape the more challenging diving, or was I wishing for a quiet day, during what I knew, would be a very hectic week. I stifled a yawn. Whatever the reason, I needed a day of me time, a nothing day.

The week promised to be stressful, as well as full on. I knew enough to know that Jake and John hated each other with a vengeance, although they managed to keep a semblance of professionalism at dive training. Various rumours circulated the dive club as to why, but I had little time for gossip. I had wished, though, that it had been John who had taught me to dive, as he appeared to have more patience than his egotistical rival, Jake. Did I say rival – I meant colleague!

John extracted a shiny new wheelchair from the boot of his car, and pushed it around to the passenger door. I offered help, but was brusquely dismissed. Trisha, a dainty woman of around 50, was unceremoniously lifted into the chair and pushed inside before I could do more than say hi.

I continued ferreting about in the car, looking for things that I thought I would need tonight. Poor woman, I mused. To be treated like that. But maybe I was being unfair. John was probably as tired and as desperate for sleep as I was.

Before I went in, I turned around to stare into the dark distance. It was still drizzling, but very lightly now. I knew I was looking towards the Helford Passage, but that view would have to wait until morning. The sky, much more expansive than at home in suburban Bromley, was filled with large grey clumps of cloud, some backlit by the obscured moon. The air felt muggy and humid, but so clean and pure. I realised that I was getting quite damp, but the moisture was welcome on my warm skin, sticky from the long drive.

Another car crawled up the gravel drive. An original Volkswagen Beetle, re-sprayed pristine pink and shining in its gleaming wetness. After a period of awkward shunting, a woman emerged. I didn’t recognise her from my dive training sessions. She looked around 35 years old, with long blonde hair and was wearing a somewhat skimpy sundress. She lifted an expensive looking dive bag out of the backseat, before coming over to me.

“Hi, there! I’m Poppy. I don’t think we’ve met?” She smiled widely and proffered a flawless, manicured hand, shiny pink nail extensions glinting in the rain. Perfectly aligned white teeth showed through bright red, heavily filled lips. Brittle mascara surrounded her eyes, like barbed wire fences.

“Hi. I’m Karen. I’m fairly new to the club – and to diving!” I responded, conscious of my pale face, devoid of makeup, and my crumpled dress, which clung stickily to my back. I instantly felt inferior in every respect.

“We’ll have to change that!” Poppy purred, before turning towards the house. “What men have we got on offer this week?” She turned back and winked conspiratorially at me. “I hope I’m going to have some fun! Are you up for a bit of fun, Karen?”

Before I could think of a reply, she strode off into the cottage, leaving me alone again in the dark. I started to feel even more worried about the week ahead. Inexperienced as a diver, and unsure in my relationship, I felt suddenly cold, and it wasn’t the night air. I would be spending the week with a bunch of expert divers that I hardly knew. This woman, Poppy, was clearly on the prowl. That was all my shaky relationship needed. My confidence, suc as it was, drained through my feet and into the gravel drive.

Taking a deep breath, I went inside with my last remaining items. Poppy was talking to Luke and John, and was clearly enjoying playing to her audience. Trisha had been ‘parked’ in her wheelchair at the far end of the table, where she sat alone. She was clutching a glass of water, and, by the look on her face, she was both extremely fed up and exhausted. Natalie was pouring drinks. Luke didn’t appear to notice my entrance, or that I had brought in all the luggage, hanging, as he appeared to be now, on Poppy’s every word.

“Dinner’s ready, guys!” Natalie announced, peering into the oven, where a huge lasagne bubbled away. French bread, salad, and cooked vegetables sat ready on the table. “I will keep some back for the others,” she continued, starting to ladle dollops of the meal onto a line of plates.

John came over to the table and sat himself next to Poppy, whose wrist, adorned with a large collection of silver and gold bracelets, jangled as she lifted her wine glass. And were those real diamond rings? But how rude was this man, not to sit with his wife! I began to be glad that he hadn’t been my instructor, after all.

I sat myself down next to Trisha, and smiled at her.

“Hi. I think we’ve met very briefly. I’m Karen Winter. I’m one of the newbies of the club.”

Trisha smiled warmly at me. As her face lit up, I could see her lovely smile and shining eyes.

„Yes. I remember seeing you at the social. You’ll soon be one of the pros, don’t worry!”

As the others took their places, the door to the hallway opened. A woman in her fifties appeared, looking slightly dishevelled. At her side, a skinny boy of about 16 struggled under the weight of a large dive box.

“Come on in, Lisa! How was the drive? Hi there, Harry. Just in time for dinner. Leave your dive box in the hall for now.” Natalie acted the hostess very naturally, making everyone feel welcome.

“It was awful!” Lisa also looked tired and stressed.

Harry and his mother sat next to one another, on my right hand side. Harry’s long blond fringe fell into his eyes as he began shovelling food into his mouth, the minute Natalie handed him the plate.

“You’d think I never fed him!” Lisa said, but not jokingly. Harry glared at her from under his hair, but said nothing.

“We’re just waiting for Adam, Ian and Leonard then? I think they’re travelling together.” Jake announced. “Trust the filth, the nutter and the poker donkey to be late!”

An uncomfortable silence descended. All that could be heard for a few, long seconds was the sound of Harry scraping his plate. Jake smiled sardonically and swigged what must have already been his fourth or fifth glass of wine. Politically Correct was not his middle name, and he loved nothing more than to shock. I remembered some of his cutting comments on the dive course. When he wasn’t flirting with the more attractive females, that was, of which he obviously hadn’t considered me to be one!

It was Natalie, of course, who came to the rescue. “Seconds anyone? There’s a little to spare, still leaving some for the late arrivals.” She had an attractive accent and personality, with a winning smile, and I could see why Jake was taken with her. I wondered what she saw in him.

Murmurs of yes please and sounds great filled the awkward cavern in the room. Muted conversations started to return.

Natalie produced strawberry trifle, followed by cheese and biscuits and soon we were all suitably full. I helped clear the table but guiltily decided to leave the washing up tonight to the others, who were now spreading maps on the table and googling dive sites. Pendennis Steps was being mentioned. They obviously had way more energy than me. I was shattered, and the migraine was still threatening.

I touched Luke on the shoulder. “I’m going up. I’m exhausted from the drive.”

Luke surveyed me briefly and grunted his response like a teenager. I glanced around the room but no-one was watching me, so I slunk away, glad to have the chance to be on my own for a while. I certainly didn’t have any energy for socialising tonight, and was sure my input into the dive tomorrow was not required!

I showered quickly, and was folding the quilt back, desperate to sink into the comfortable looking bed, when a flashing from Luke’s phone, left on the bedside cabinet, caught my eye. Why was it on silent? He never turned off the volume, as he apparently had to be available to take work calls at any time. But not when he was on holiday, I supposed, although I knew he would still take those calls if they came. I walked around the bed and took a sneaky look.

It was a call from Poppy. I pressed the call to take it, but when I said hello, she hung up. How strange. Wasn’t she in the same room as Luke, downstairs, anyway?

A muffled bang and scrunching noise from the drive at the front had me over at the window and, pulling back the curtain slightly, I could see Poppy, phone in hand, locking her car. She turned, looked briefly up at my window, before striding inside. Did I imagine that she was smirking? And why was she phoning Luke from outside anyway, when she could just go inside and speak to him?

CHAPTER TWO: Saturday Morning

Dappled light flickered in my eyes, at the same time as the smell of fried bacon, wafting up the stairs, assaulted my nostrils. Voices from outside the window drew me reluctantly out of a deep, satisfying sleep. The first good sleep I had had in weeks. Turning to the thoughtfully provided bedside clock, I saw that it was already 8.30 a.m.

For a moment, I wondered where I was. I turned over for Luke, but his side of the bed was empty. I had not heard him come to bed or get up, but evidently he had, as the sheet was creased, and the pillow had been turned sideways. He always slept in a foetal position. As if the bed was like some sort of womb. No doubt a psychiatrist would make something of that!

It was unlike me to sleep so well. My sleep at home was usually fitful, often interrupted by Luke’s phone, his restlessness, or my own worries. Perhaps it was the fresh, Cornish air? Well, I hadn’t had a lot of that, yet! More likely, it was sheer exhaustion. I thought, briefly, of my nightmare pocked sleep the night before, when I had awoken sweating, heart pumping and gasping for breath, from re-living my fated free dive in Thailand. I had to switch those thoughts off, or the week would become a nightmare in itself.

Savouring the soft mattress and fluffy duvet for a little longer, I let my sleepy eyes travel around the room. On the opposite wall was a faded, water colour painting of a shipwreck, surrounded by a group of pirates, no doubt in some notorious Cornish bay. A double, antique, dark oak wardrobe stood in one corner, like a brooding ogre, and a matching chest of drawers glared back, in another. At the window, one flimsy, cotton curtain had been drawn back – enough for me to see that the sky was no longer sludge grey, but bright blue.

Luke’s bag remained unpacked, although it had been opened. His pyjamas had been thrown casually onto a beautiful, turquoise, velvet armchair, which lurked on the back wall of the room.

Abruptly remembering the call from Poppy, on Luke’s phone, last night, I quickly became wide awake. One fault Luke did not have, however, was being flirty. He had known Poppy through the diving club for a while, but had never had much to say in her favour, other than that she was a very competent diver. Perhaps she was just playing games? Trying to wind me up? Well, she was certainly not going to spoil my holiday!

I wondered, pessimistically, if it would, in fact, be any great loss if Luke did go off with her or someone else. Things certainly weren’t good at the moment. He was so stressed out with the demands of his job and worked such long hours, even at weekends, that I hardly saw him, and when we were together, he always seemed to be in a mood. Would it, then, be a blessing in disguise, if we broke up, without me having to do anything? I was crap at ending relationships.

Or, would I miss the possibility that Luke might again become the man whom I had fallen head over heels in love with when we first met, and who had initially made such a big effort for me. The man I had wondered if I would spend the rest of my life with. Would that man return, during the holiday break?

Deciding that it was much too early in the day, let alone the holiday, for this train of thought, I brushed it aside and thought of the dive ahead of me today. Counter the negative thoughts with positives. Or at least alternatives.

I slid out of bed and stretched luxuriously. A whole week away from work!

Things had been getting extremely pressured at my office lately, with staff off sick or leaving, left, right and centre and the rest of us having to cover. It was no high profile job, just insurance. But it paid the bills. I desperately needed this holiday, and I was determined to make the best of it.

Clutching my dressing gown around me, I peered out of the window and down to the lawn at the front of the cottage. Jake, Luke, Poppy and Natalie were sipping coffees and nibbling bagels around a wooden table. Looking up, I saw the Helford Passage, now clearly in view. The water was a stunning, deep, sparkling blue, framed by the rolling, green, summer countryside.

Drawing back from the window, in case anyone should look up, I had a quick shower and dressed, before going down to get a coffee for myself. No doubt Natalie would have hand crushed the beans, I thought wickedly. Seriously, though, she was a great hostess. Packets of food were neatly stacked on the worktop and, in the fridge, labelled plastic boxes bulged at the seams, whilst ripe fruit spilled over from a ceramic bowl on the table. Everything organised, down to the last slice of bread. How she put up with Jake, I had no idea. I hoped he appreciated her.

John was frying bacon and eggs on the hob. There was no sign of his wife, Trisha, nor of Lisa and Harry, as yet.

“Hi. Did the others get here OK? I was so tired I had to go to bed after that fantastic meal.” I tried my friendliest smile.

John regarded me with the merest shadow of a smile. No doubt thinking, oh yes, the newbie diver I will have to take care of when I would rather be examining deep wrecks.

“Yeah, they’re here. They had to wait for the ‘fuzz’ to finish his shift before they could leave, apparently.” He pushed the bacon around the pan.

“What are the plans for today?” I tried again.

“Under discussion out the front.” John pointed to the door with his spatula, which dripped fat onto the floor.

I gave it one more shot. “How’s Trisha? What will she do while we dive?”

There was an audible sigh of annoyance. “She’s having breakfast in bed. It’s all right for some! I expect she’ll watch T.V. or sit outside.”

Deciding I was banging my head on a brick wall here, trying to get any conversation going with this surly man, I made myself a coffee, grabbed a lonely, buttered bagel from a plate on the table, and wandered out of the front door. Jake and Poppy had their backs to me at the wooden table. Luke looked up and gave me a half smile.

Natalie, however, grinned warmly at me. “Come join us! We were thinking of splitting the group today. We thought you might prefer something easy to start the week off, so one group will dive at Pendennis Steps. The others will go to the wreck of The Hera in Veryan Bay. Both dives are at Falmouth.”

This sounded fine to me. I deliberately sat myself next to Luke, giving him a peck on the cheek, whilst watching Poppy’s reaction. She merely smiled serenely and sipped her drink.

One of the late arrivals, Leonard, had walked up quietly behind the table. He stood, a little nervously, hands in his trouser pockets. From what I had heard from Luke, who evidently listened to dive club gossip, Leonard was recently divorced, and had returned to diving after several years gap to help fill the void in his life. He was known to have been a gambling addict, hence Jake’s rude comment of ‘Poker Donkey,’ and this was apparently why his wife had left him. He looked around 60 years old, with short grey hair, and a body which had seen better days of fitness.

“Morning guys,” Leonard smiled broadly. “Think I’ll go with the Pendennis dive too, as I’m a bit rusty.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You’ve got me then. John’s taking The Hera group. Any sign of the others yet?”

“I’m sharing with Adam,” Leonard returned, plonking himself down on the last vacant wooden chair around the table, which happened to be next to Poppy. He shuffled the chair a little away from her. She appeared not to notice. I wondered why he had done this.

“He was still flat out when I left the room and I haven’t seen Ian since last night.”

“Well, we’re not waiting around all day for lazy people who just want to lie in bed. My group will leave in half an hour. Get going and grab your gear, guys.” Jake downed the rest of his coffee and stood up, stretching lazily, attempting to show off his toned physique.

Exactly half an hour later, I was sat in my car, giving a lift to Lisa and Harry. The warm, early morning sun was already drying the narrow lane that we had splashed along last night.

I learnt that Lisa had, apparently, learnt to dive in Thailand years ago, but hadn’t dived again until recently. She spoke to me, in between trying to lecture her uncommunicative son on being careful during the dive today. He sat in the back, ear pieces in and staring fixedly at the phone in front of him.

Lisa chattered non-stop, relieving me of any need to put any effort into the conversation, other than to say that’s nice or oh really, where appropriate. It suited me, as I still felt tired from the drive down. Lisa had not dived for over 30 years, she told me, until she did a revision course a few weeks ago. She seemed nervous about taking it up again, but apparently Harry had been keen to learn and she wanted to keep an eye on him. He could be very reckless, she confided. That’s all we need, I thought grimly, a reckless diver and an unstable one. The latter was Ian, the one Jake referred to as ‘the nutter’.

Jake’s car was leading the way to the dive, his back seat crammed with scuba gear. Leonard had been allocated a somewhat hyper Ian as his passenger who had managed to materialise just in time to go, but there had been no sign of Adam.

I had met Ian, as he had been in my training group. I had found him very difficult to get on with, as he was either monosyllabic or inappropriately flirty. Having had a previous relationship with someone with similar behaviour, I guessed him to be a manic depressive. I hoped he was going to be in a good mood this week. Luke thought Ian was in denial of his illness, so I guessed that he was probably not on any medication. But as someone who has been taking anti-depressants on and off for years, I could not judge how someone else chose to control their mental state.

Driving towards Falmouth, I was reminded of childhood holidays. We used to camp nearby, and my younger brothers and I loved Gyllyngvase Beach, spending hours building sandcastles and paddling in the sea. Our parents had sat in deckchairs, drinking tea from a flask. Mum always made a mouth-watering picnic for her hungry little children. How simple those days were, when I had nothing to worry about, and how far away they seemed now.

Returning to the present, I realised that Lisa had moved on from diving to talk about her unhappy marriage. Oblivious as to whether Harry was listening, she told me that her ex-husband used to verbally abuse her, and tried to control everything she did. She had finally managed to leave him two years ago. Apparently, Harry had initially wanted to stay with his father, but after six months returned to his mother, without saying why. I guessed that, having lost his wife to bully, he had turned on his son.

As we struggled into our dive gear, tension was already mounting within the little group. Harry was refusing to buddy his mother, and Ian, the first to be ready, was loudly moaning about how long we were all taking. Jake sharply told him to recheck his equipment and then help someone else, if he was bored. I remembered that Ian had been very gungho on the training dives, and obviously saw himself as an expert, now that he had completed the initial course.

Jake arbitrarily sorted the buddy pairs to stop more argument: Harry and Leonard, myself and Lisa, Jake and Ian. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn’t with Ian, who already looked sullen after his telling off from Jake. I would have trouble coping with myself, let alone with someone in a mood.

Although it was a warm July day, and we had thick wetsuits on, the sea felt icily cold as we waded in – this being a shore dive. I felt it trickle slowly inside my wetsuit, willing it to warm up quickly.

We all followed Jake, in our buddy pairs, who led us to look at wreckage from WWII U boats. There was an abundance of kelp to be navigated through. I had always been interested in kelp, as it was considered to be half way between plant and animal. Eukaryotic algae, I believed it was called.

We were moving slowly, as I kept on having to stop for Lisa to untangle herself as she tried to take photos. I was becoming worried, as the others had now disappeared into the gloom. One time, she got completely stuck, and, as I was struggling to help her, Jake abruptly appeared with a sharply glinting, diving knife. He slashed at the kelp and cut her free, before giving us the OK sign and finning back to Ian. The quickness of his appearance and action quite startled me. At least it was reassuring to know that he was keeping an eye on everyone.

Eventually, though, I was able to relax and enjoy being part of the underwater world that divers are so lucky to be privy to. Although I had struggled with my buoyancy during training, much to Jake’s frustration, today it had all come together. Even my fear of not being able to breathe had left me.

But as always, one thing came at the expense of another. I had broken a diving rule – I had failed, for a few moments, to keep an eye on my buddy, Lisa. Turning 360o, I peered in every direction. Then, as I had been trained, I went to the surface, releasing my surface marker as I came up.

I had just emerged into the daylight, only to find there was no sign of Lisa there, when another surface marker appeared, and Jake came up a few yards away from me.

“I’m afraid I’ve lost Lisa,” I said apologetically, expecting a sarcastic response.

“Well, I’ve lost that prat, Ian, and I’m the instructor, so don’t worry! You stay here, and I’ll go down and search. She’s probably tied herself up in kelp again!” Jake smiled, replaced his regulator, and disappeared again under the water.

He was being uncharacteristically nice to me. I wondered why.

Within a couple of minutes, more markers appeared, and Harry surfaced, closely followed by Leonard.

“What’s going on?” Leonard spluttered at me, across the few yards between us.

“I lost Lisa and Jake lost Ian!”

“I’m going to help look,” shouted Harry.