Page 24 of Deep Blue Sea

His accent was still thick after two decades away from France. Serge Bresson had come to Thailand as a competitive diver in the eighties. Something of a character on the circuit, he had got within twenty feet of the world record. ‘Feet not metres,’ he always added with a mischievous smile. But he had been mentoring Rachel’s diving with the same enthusiasm and eccentric energy he had brought to his own attempts, making her believe that one day, free-diving could be more than just a hobby for her too.

Right now, however, it was all she could do to lie back on the wooden boards and try to suck enough air into her body. Lack of oxygen made her feel weak, like a rag doll waiting to have life breathed into her.

‘Take it easy, don’t rush it,’ said Serge gently. ‘Let that body of yours remember you’re not a fish, eh?’

Eventually she sat up and took off her weight belt and goggles, letting them thump on to the deck. She was holding a small tag that indicated how far she had travelled down under the water.

‘Sixty metres!’ she gasped with triumph.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Breaking sixty metres for a constant weight dive – descending into the water down a long vertical line – was something of a milestone for Rachel. Only forty years earlier, this had been a record-breaking depth, although the world champions today went much deeper.

‘You know, I think you’re ready to do this competitively,’ said Serge thoughtfully.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Rachel, her breath slowly regulating. ‘Just think of all that training. All that yoga.’

Serge waved a hand dismissively. ‘You can swim sixty metres down without yoga. People work for years to train their breathing to the extent you can do naturally.’

‘Well, I like it that way,’ said Rachel, rubbing her hair with a towel. ‘I’m doing what comes naturally. Plus I have a lazy streak.’

‘Maybe. But you also have talent.’

Rachel wasn’t exactly sure why she was being so resistant; she had certainly thought about entering competitions, and her ambition had to go somewhere. Ambition.

Last night, her ambition had been focused on buying the bungalows, turning them into a dive school and resort – but look where that had got her. She had grabbed Liam in the sand outside those bungalows, taken a chance on them being together, fulfilling her dream together, and it had backfired spectacularly.

She gazed towards the island as Serge started the engine on the long-tail boat, wondering where they would go from here. Could they just forget it had happened? Was it that easy?

‘So come on, ma petite, what is really stopping you?’ said Serge, fixing her with a shrewd look as they made a lazy half-circle and began heading back towards the beach.

‘Well, there’s the diving school for one. I’m a fifty-fifty partner with Liam and he’s not going to like it if I start swanning off to the Cayman Islands or Greece for twenty weeks of the year, is he?’

Serge gave a Gallic shrug. ‘So take a minority share. I hear you’re hiring new instructors anyway.’

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘Come on, it’s a small community. Nothing is a secret here.’ He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and for a moment, Rachel had the horrible feeling that the Frenchman knew everything about her disastrous seduction of Liam.

‘How old are you, Rachel?’

‘Thirty-three.’

‘Still young enough to reach top-flight competition. And in addition to that, you are beautiful.’

She felt herself blush. Not many people told her that.

‘Seriously, I may be old, but I’m not dead,’ continued Serge. ‘I notice, and so will sponsors. It is different from when I was doing the sport. There is money there now.’

‘It’s not like being Venus Williams, though, is it?’

Serge began to chuckle. ‘That’s what I like about you, Rachel,’ he said, wagging a stubby finger at her. ‘This is why you would be a champion. Everyone else would think, “I’m not good enough to be a free-diving champion,” but not you. No, you think, “Merde, I won’t earn as much money as the world’s most famous tennis player.”’

Rachel couldn’t help laughing along.

‘You make me sound totally mercenary,’ she smiled, wondering vaguely if Serge had heard the rumours, if he knew what she had done back in London.

‘Not mercenary, no. I don’t think the money is so important to you, but the titles, that is what you want. Besides, being a free-diver is the best job in the world. Think about the places you would go, the people you would meet. Have you been to the Philippines?’

She shook her head. She remembered that Diana had been there years ago, just after she had started seeing Julian. Where had she stayed? The Amanpulo, that was it. She had made it sound like Paradise, a heady blend of beach butlers, watermelon mojitos and yoga pavilions.