I push the thought out of my head as we kick towards the reef, making our way into shallower water. I find comfort in the wheezing breath in and out of my regulator. There’s something about being underwater that feels completely meditative. There’s a sensory blockage. You can’t smell. You can’t taste. You can’t feel anything but the water slowly seeping through the stinger suit. You can only hear your own breathing. You are just taking in what’s around you, totally immersed.
Hugh stays right next to me, always within arm’s reach. His closeness is stifling, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being observed, even though every time I glance at Hugh his gaze is trained in front of him. I worry he’s looking for proof of why we’re ‘different’.It’s hard to focus on the reef with Hugh at my elbow, I think,I wish I had Miguel back.
Hugh and I are second in line after Derek and Natalie. Andrew and Pippa are behind us. Our dive follows a similar trajectory to the one before, even though we descended at a different point. Soon, we come up to a looming coral wall.
Vanessa quickly finds a giant lobster hidden in a rock crevice, and we all take turns looking at it. It’s the biggest lobster I’ve ever seen, bigger than a small dog, and it’s brown and white striped. Given its size, it must be ancient. Lobsters can live over one hundred years, and I wonder if this one is a centenarian. Its antennae seem to be countless, and they poke out from everywhere. Around the hole the lobster has chosen for its home there are hundreds of blooming corals. There’s a bubble-gum pink one that looks like it’s made out of sponges, and a bright magenta coral, home to a cluster of orange fish that don’t seem to be bothered by the lobster’s antennae at all.
Once we’ve all cycled in and out of the best vantage spot for observing the lobster, Derek stations himself in front of it and starts to take photos. He’s so immersed in his photography that Miguel has to tap his carabiner on his air tank to get his attention so that we can move on. The clanging echoes through the water. We keep moving as a group, following Vanessa.
As we round the bend, I pull my focus away from Hugh’s impeccable diving technique – arms locked in front of him, gently kicking, completely at ease – and zero in on the staghorn coral instead. I want to make sure I’ve done everything in my power to do Millie proud.
I don’t see any fish resembling a butterfly wrasse. I see cod, angelfish, parrotfish and gobies, but no wrasse. There’s a cluster of brain coral at the base of the structure that captivates everyone’s attention. Brain coral is mesmerising on its own, it looks like a giant, endless maze, and each ridge is made up of a thousand little polyps, but this coral has an added bonus – above the coral there’s a colony of what look like translucent worms. They are wriggling and every so often catching sunlight. They look like they are dancing. It’s breathtaking.
Vanessa starts kicking and motions to the group to keep moving. Derek, as usual, is still taking photographs. As we pull away from the brain coral, Andrew starts to lose his buoyancy again, this time floating upward with so much speed that Miguel has to grab him and pull him down. Even Natalie is laughing this time, I spot bubbles trailing upwards from her mask.
We swim through a clearing and Vanessa finds a flounder in the bright white sand. I don’t know how she spotted it; it’s so perfectly camouflaged. She pokes at it with her finger and it wriggles and changes colour, flushing from pale white to a light brown with spots. We watch it in wonder as it swims across the ocean floor.
I’m still watching the flounder flap its fins against the ground, skirting over rocks and hugging the side of coral structures, when Vanessa swims away. Andrew and Pippa follow. Hugh stays by my side, patiently waiting. I normally would love having someone this attentive to dive with, but all Hugh’s perfection is doing is making me insecure about my dive skills. I can still see Vanessa, so we swim leisurely after her retreating figure. Out of habit, I turn my head to try and spot Miguel behind me, but I don’t see him or Derek or Natalie.
I tug on Hugh’s arm and lift my hands, palms outstretched in a ‘what’s going on?’ expression.
He makes the same gesture back to me. ‘I don’t know,’ his eyes are saying from behind his clear plastic mask. We turn to swim faster towards Vanessa, Andrew and Pippa. There are rules to diving, and the first is not to get separated from your buddy and your guides. If you do, you are supposed to ascend to the surface and inflate something called a ‘flare’ which shoots up from the water and is bright orange. We can still see the three of them, so we don’t ascend yet. They’re approaching a curve of a rock structure, about to be out of sight. Both Hugh and I kick faster.
Out of the corner of my eye I see movement. Big movement. My heart rate picks up but my legs slow down. I freeze in the water. I feel my heartbeat through my whole body.
A shark is swimming along the bottom of the ocean, towards Hugh and me. It’s about five feet long, and its eyes are pale and terrifying.
‘Hugh,’ I try to call out, but my voice gets absorbed by my regulator. I grab at his ankle and barely brush it with my fingers. He starts to turn around, sees the shark out of his peripherals, and his movements slow. Then, much to my disbelief, his legs kick in a giant scissor motion, propelling him away from me.
I’m unable to regain feeling in my legs. The shark swims closer. My blood runs cold. ‘Kick, Andi,’ I say to myself, trying to return movement to my feet. The shark has slowed down and lurks just a few feet away, its giant pale eyes staring at me.
With a flick of its tail the shark sways closer to me. Suddenly, I feel a heavy hand on my forearm. With a gentle tug, Hugh pulls me forward, his body appearing between me and the shark. Instead of kicking towards Vanessa, Hugh had manoeuvred in a circle, maintaining a calm momentum, returning to push me forward. I regain movement in my legs and try to strike a balance between swimming fast and swimming frantically. If sharks can really smell fear, I’m a goner. Despite Hugh as a bulwark, I’m terrified.
Hugh propels me forward once more without any sense of urgency, a gentle hand encouraging me along. Together, we kick in Vanessa’s direction. I start to relax in his grip, grateful for the way his body feels next to mine.
His hand lingers on my forearm, warm and stable. I resist the urge to layer one of my hands over the top of his. I want to feel even closer to him. I try to catch his eye, but he’s focused on Vanessa’s shadowy figure.
I remind myself that Hugh would have watched out for anyone he was diving with, even Derek. I force myself to remember that I have a job to do, a job that I cannot let thoughts of Hugh distract me from. But for a moment I wonder if this is what’s under Hugh’s stubborn exterior. Someone who looks out for others. Someone who helps them find sunscreen. Someone who saves them from sharks. Someone who’snice.
As if he can read my mind, Hugh drops his hand from my arm as soon as we get closer to Vanessa. I turn to see if the shark is still following us, but all I see is a flick of its fins as it disappears into the gaping wide blue of the ocean. We reach Vanessa, who looks behind us for Miguel and Derek. When she realises we are alone, she immediately motions for us to ascend, her gestures impatient. She is not happy.
As soon as we break the surface, I take my regulator out of my mouth. We’re closer to the boat than I thought we were, popping up only about twenty-five yards from where it’s moored.
‘Are you OK?’ Hugh asks me, his regulator floating in the water.
My teeth are chattering, but I’m not cold. ‘I . . . I guess,’ I stammer. I put my face in the water to check the ocean floor below, terrified that I’ll see the shark lurking underneath my feet. When I look up to take a breath, Hugh is looking at me intently, worry creasing his brow.
‘That little guy scared you, huh?’
‘Little guy? He was huge!’
Hugh laughs. ‘And you thought I was the one who was nervous in the water.’
I glare at him, but only for a beat. ‘Thank you,’ I say, quietly, so I don’t know if he hears it above the sound of the ocean waves.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he whispers back. We share a look and I have a surge of optimism that maybe this trip could turn around, that maybe I’m not bunking with the worst possible option, but my thoughts are quickly interrupted by Vanessa clearing her throat. I turn to see her glaring at us, the look in her eye a clear warning that Hugh and I should never have let her out of our sight.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say immediately.
