The Art of Not Breathing(37)

“No, it’s not like that. It makes sense—we need someone who’s interested in diving and who isn’t afraid to get a bit dirty. Think of it as a kind of apprenticeship.”

“So you’d pay me?”

“Not in cash—in dives. I’d give you lessons. Proper ones.”

“I already know how to dive, thanks. Anyway, I’ve got exams. I’m too busy.” I stand up to go and hold the towel tight around me.

Danny stands too and towers above me. It feels strange being this close to him. I remember the first time we met at the clubhouse when he looked right through me.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, it’s up to you, of course, but don’t you want to be a better diver? Go deeper, dive for longer?”

Yes! I want to say. Yes, I do, but just not with you.

“I’m late for dinner,” I say, wringing the excess water from my hair onto Danny’s dry feet.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. Good luck with your ‘studying,’” he replies, nodding toward the water.





It’s not that I change my mind, exactly. I go down to the harbor on the off chance that Tay might be there. The clubhouse now has deep blue walls, with swirly wave patterns running around the bar area. The boat boys are sprawled out on squashy red cushions in the middle of the floor, poring over maps, drinking Coke. Tay is not here. Coward. A lump grows in my throat.

Rex sees me first and calls me over.

“Hey, mermaid! What’s new?”

Danny pats the cushion next to him and asks what I think of the place. It’s nice, I tell them as I sit down.

“It’s like being underwater.”

For some reason they think this is hilarious.

Rex jabs a finger at the map, and when I look closer, it seems to be some sort of intricate plan of the sea floor. He explains there’s a wreck just off Lossiemouth. It’s at forty-three meters.

“We’re going in a month or two. You wanna come?” Rex asks. “Danny says you might be our new spotter now that . . .” He trails off.

“She can dive with us,” Danny says. “Tay’s been teaching her, a bit. But now I’m going to show her how it’s really done.”

The boat boys go quiet.

I suck in my breath, the way Tay taught me, first into my belly, then into my lungs. I sit in lotus position like this for a minute, and when a minute is up I do a little dance, pretending that my arms are dolphins, twisting, turning, diving. Even as the boat boys, Danny included, roll around in hysterics, I keep my breath inside me until my body is screaming for me to release. It feels good when I breathe out.

“Fuck me,” Rex says, sighing.

“No, thanks,” I reply, and suddenly I am a new confident me. Joey is killing himself beside me. I remember Tay’s first lesson. Step one: be confident. Inside, I smile.

“So what’s this place called now? Doesn’t the dive school have a name?”

“Actually, that’s your first job, Elsie,” Danny says. “We need to paint the name on the front. Black Isle Divers.”

“Really? That’s not very exciting.”

“It’s fairly self-explanatory,” Danny says. “We want people to know what we do.”

“I get that, but it seems a bit bland. And people might think that you can only come here to dive, when really you can come here just to hang out, watch the boats, look across at the mainland, eat.”

The three boys ponder this for a moment, and then Rex says, “She’s right. It’s a shite name.”

“We can’t change it: the business is already set up. The bank, the email address, everything,” Danny says dismissively.

“So just change the name of the actual clubhouse, then,” Joey says. “How about No Limits Café?”

“The Dolphin,” Rex says.

I hear Eddie calling out for the “fins.”

“How about the Black Fin?” I suggest, and immediately regret it, but it’s too late.

Mick appears behind the bar. “Perfect,” he says. “Any more ideas, Elsie?”

Perhaps Eddie won’t mind that he inspired the name of this place. I jump up and run to the back corner. “Yes. You should keep all these cushions but move them here and move the TV screen here so that people can watch films. And Lila Sinclair should come for the opening.”

Mick whistles. “I think she might be in the Bahamas, but I’ll see what I can do.”

I feel excited for the first time since Tay and I were planning our night dive. Eventually I ask Joey if Tay has gone back to Dornie. I feel like Tay would trust Joey the most. Joey looks at Rex, and Rex shrugs. No one seems to know. Tay does a good vanishing act.

“I reckon he’ll be back,” Joey says.

Whatever the reason for Tay’s disappearance, the best chance I have of seeing him again is to hang around with the boat boys. He’s got to come back at some point. And in the meantime I learn to dive. I learn to dive deep.

We go back to looking at the sea chart.

“It’s here,” Joey says, taking my finger and placing it on a patch of darker blue. Eighteen meters is the deepest I’ve been. I have a long way to go to get to forty-three.





2