Million Love Songs(18)

‘Now you’re talking my language,’ Joe says. ‘I’ll just check in with the kids to see if they’re behaving.’ He punches a couple of text messages into his phone while I go about the business of waking up – stretching, yawning, all of that. When Joe’s done, he shows his phone screensaver to me. ‘My babies.’

They both have dark, glossy hair matched with olive skin and possibly favour their mother, though they look like Joe around their eyes. ‘They’re good-looking kids.’ And they are. I’m not just making pleasant noises.

‘They take after their mum. Gina’s Italian. They’ve got my brains though,’ he quips.

‘Poor devils,’ I tease.

He rolls his eyes. ‘That’s about right.’

‘Are they both OK?’

‘They’ve not killed each other yet,’ he tells me. ‘Always a good sign.’

‘Do they get on well?’

‘Not that you’d notice,’ he admits. ‘Tom’s fifteen and finds everything annoying, especially his little sister. She, in turn, does her very best to wind him up.’

‘Happy families, eh?’

He shoves his phone in his pocket. ‘There’s not been much of that recently.’

‘Time’s a marvellous thing,’ I offer. ‘They’ll get over it.’

‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t sound convinced. ‘Anyway, that’s enough of me. We’ve got some diving to do.’

Now that I’ve finally got my eyes to do focusing, I note that Quarry Hill Cove is, indeed, a lot prettier than I’d imagined. The former quarry is secluded, surrounded by trees, and tranquil. It’s still not the Caribbean though. It’s just after nine now and the sun is already doing its best to warm the day. The rays dance on the water, which is trying very hard to sparkle. Though it’s not exactly turquoise – more of a murky brown. But it’s a nice spot and the perfect place to spend a lazy Sunday. And it’s not raining or cold. Bonus.

‘Let’s go and see the others,’ Joe says and gets out of the car.

There are a number of vehicles parked close by and, already, their occupants are unloading diving gear. I follow Joe and we walk over towards them.

‘Hi, guys.’ He claps a few of them on the back. ‘This is Ruby. She’s come along today to see what goes on at a dive outing. She had her first session in the pool last week and did really well.’

I get that little glow of pride again. ‘Hi,’ I say, shyly.

‘Hi, Ruby.’ A few of them wave and say hello, then someone arrives with a tray of takeaway drinks and says, ‘Tea?’

When I nod, he hands one to me and I take a grateful gulp of the tea; it tastes every bit as good as champagne. Joe and I stand and chat to the members of the group while we drink and there’s much joshing and laughter. They discuss the condition and temperature of the water which goes over my head. It sounds cold, is all I know. Very cold.

‘We should get the gear out of the car, Ruby. Want to give me a hand?’

So I go to the car with Joe and heave out all manner of stuff. Wetsuit, tanks, fins, demand valve, a dive knife, so many hoses that I’ve no idea what he’ll do with them all and a face mask. This looks like a flipping expensive sport. Even if I do qualify as an open water diver, how would I afford all this kit? I suppose you can rent some of it, but still. Maybe I’ll have to take up running instead. All I’ll need then is a pair of trainers and some nipple cream.

While I fuss about, not really knowing what I’m doing, picking up stuff and putting it down again, Joe heads off to the changing rooms with his wetsuit. While I’m still fussing, he comes back. He’s clad in tight neoprene from the waist down and is bare-chested. I tell you, I have no idea where to look first. He has a very fine physique and I feel myself getting all flushed. I think my hormones are still a bit awry after that oestrogen overload at the Take That gig.

Joe sits on the lip of the car boot while he eases himself into the rest of his suit and I assist him, as best I can, with putting on his belt and tanks. ‘Pass me that please, Ruby.’ I hand him the massive torch he nods at. ‘You can’t see a hand in front of you without this.’

‘So what’s the joy of diving in water like this?’

‘You’ll see when you try it,’ he assures me.

This is not sounding thrilling. ‘Any fish?’

‘Some,’ he says. ‘Pike – a few big ones. Perch, roach, freshwater crayfish. No sharks.’

I guess he’s teasing about the last bit.

We go to the water’s edge and I help the divers to launch the boat they call the RIB – which must mean something, but I’m too tired to ask what. The divers climb in and I squeeze in beside them, then we head out into the middle of the water. It feels good to be scudding across the lake, breeze in my hair. I could definitely get used to this, even if I never make it to the bottom of the quarry.

When we stop, there’s more faffing as Joe pulls on his fins and his face mask. ‘See you shortly,’ he says. ‘Enjoy the sunshine.’

One by one, the divers drop over the edge of the boat and disappear beneath the waters of the lake until I’m left with just one of the guys. ‘Now all we have to do is wait,’ he says.

So I sit back in the boat and close my eyes, enjoying the peace and quiet. Loving this diving lark, so far.