The Art of Not Breathing(44)

“Are they dangerous?” Lara whispers as she moves behind me.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Frankie says. “The baby one is just like a puppy.”

I feel Lara tense beside me and I pat her on the leg. I tell her that they’re more scared of us than she is of them, but I don’t think she believes me. The baby looks in our direction with big pebble-black eyes.

After a few minutes, Frankie dips his bucket into the rock pool. I hear the clatter of something wriggling around inside it.

“Just a small one,” he says, sniffing.

“You just stole their dinner,” I say.

He looks into the bucket and back to the otters. “They’re not eating, they’re resting.”

I explain to Lara how the otters smash crabs against the rocks to break their shells. “They’re really clever. Like humans.”

The two large otters are half in and half out of the water, with their front paws close to the baby’s head, protecting it. Its long whiskers look golden in the sunshine.

“They can’t swim, the babies,” I continue. “Their mothers have to hold them underwater so they can learn how to dive.”

Lara gasps. “Isn’t that a bit cruel?”

Frankie looks at Lara and wrinkles his nose. “It saves their lives. I don’t think this one wants to go in, though.” The baby struggles to keep its paws from slipping into the water.

“Still seems cruel,” Lara repeats, and Frankie snaps at her.

“Go home, then, if you don’t like it.”

Lara looks at me for backup, but I say that we should be quiet or we’ll scare the otters away. She lowers her head and tries to detach a limpet from the rock.

We keep watching, until a group of children come running up the beach behind us and scare them away. The two bigger otters nudge the baby one until it plops into the water, and then they swim away, the water streaming off their heads. The kids come splashing through the rock pools with their buckets and nets, and Frankie is eager to show them how it’s done. I watch one of the boys, the smallest one. He is so excited, he doesn’t know which way to run first. His older sister chases after him. “Careful, Dougie.” She grabs him by the hand. “Don’t fall.”

I watch the boy, taking in his dark hair and the way his mouth hangs open, the way he hesitates before jumping across a rock pool. His sister gets annoyed when he soaks his trousers. I want to tell her not to be angry with him. To tell her that one day she might not even have the chance to be angry with him.

“Hey, why don’t we go back and get ice cream?” I say, and we retreat.

“So, how about this night out?” Lara asks again.

“Maybe,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”

When we get to the end of the beach, Frankie releases the crabs back into the water. Some of them swim away, legs spinning round and round, and some of them are definitely no longer alive.





9



WHEN I GET TO THE HARBOR THE FOLLOWING DAY, I immediately sense something is wrong. Even though it’s boiling, Danny stands on the jetty with his arms folded tight across his white T-shirt as if he is freezing. Joey and Rex are climbing aboard the Half Way, swaying, waving their arms about. The tide is low, and the boats nearer to this end of the harbor are already grounded in mud. I’m only a few minutes late. I overslept but still wanted to make time for breathing practice. Three minutes and twenty seconds.

“Hurry up,” Danny snaps. “Or we won’t get out of the harbor.”

“What’s wrong?”

Even if the boat was stuck in the mud, Danny would have us dig it out before we gave up on a dive.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. Rex hands us both a beer as we climb on. Danny refuses to take one.

“They’re meant to be for after,” Danny says.

I put mine aside. The last thing I want is to be drunk right now. I need to be on the ball. Danny starts the motor before I’ve even sat down, and my neck jolts.

As the boat speeds up, I close my eyes and pretend I’m flying. For a few minutes I am alone, the wind caressing my face.

I feel a hand on my leg, and when I open my eyes, Rex is grinning at me.

“Are you ready for your surprise?”

“Where are we going?” I ask, leaning away from Rex. We’re heading around the Point, but too far out to be aiming for the cave.

Danny speaks slowly. “We’re going to the drop-off.”

“Fuck, yeah!” shouts Joey.

“Really?” I try not to show my nerves. This is not how it was supposed to be.

It’s then that I realize I’ve forgotten my mask.

Danny cuts the engine. We drift.

“I’m not ready,” I blurt out. “I forgot my mask.”

Danny cracks a small smile. “We’re not going to the bottom,” he says, almost sneering. “Not anywhere near it.”

I’m relieved but still feel uneasy. Why are we here if we’re not going to the bottom? Joey and Rex are already clumsily pulling their fins on. Danny chucks me a mask from the bag of spares. I know it won’t feel the same.

“There’s a line,” Danny says. He’s in instructor mode now. “We’re going down twenty meters. It’s cold, dark, and miserable down there. You won’t want to go any deeper.”