My Sister’s Secret

One of the other divers who’s with us – an Australian called Guy, all blond hair and muscles – paces the boat, frustrated. ‘I might just jump off this boat and swim there myself if it doesn’t get a move on.’

The rest of the crew laugh.

I haven’t worked with Guy before but I’ve worked with divers like him, all bravado and testosterone. I can guarantee that by tonight he’ll be telling me stories of all the times he’s nearly died diving wrecks. Usually that’s a sign of someone who puts their ego above competence.

I throw Ajay a ‘where’d you find this one?’ look. He mouths back, ‘He’s good.’

We’ll see.

‘You dived a cruise ship before?’ Guy asks me.

‘Not a cruise ship,’ I reply, standing on my tiptoes as I crane my neck to see any sign of the site.

‘Willow dived the Russian tanker with me,’ Ajay said.

Guy looks me up and down. ‘Oh yeah? Pretty risky salvage dive. Big payout though, right?’

‘Not bad,’ I murmur.

That was a good job. I was in between contracts in Brighton at the time, whittling away the money I’d accrued from my last gig on a North Sea oil rig. I’d seen the tanker on the news and wondered if the commercial diving company Ajay worked for would be hired to salvage it. It looked like a risky dive, lots of wielding and moving of heavy equipment…lots of opportunity for that equipment to tumble on top of the crew. When Ajay called asking if I was free to work on it, I hadn’t hesitated. It wasn’t just the job, it was Ajay too. We’d clicked straight away when he was my diving instructor. He’s one of the good guys – and he never once tried it on with me after a few too many beers.

‘This job will be risky too,’ Guy says, eyes lighting up. ‘Why’s it been allowed to stay under for twenty years, anyway?’

‘The cruise company went bust so couldn’t pay to salvage it,’ one of the other divers shouts over. ‘The Greek authorities couldn’t afford it either.’

‘I heard a mystery benefactor stepped in to pay,’ Ajay says.

I look at him. ‘Really? You didn’t tell me that.’

‘Just found out this morning, Foivos told me,’ he says, gesturing to the old Greek guy captaining our ship.

‘How many casualties?’ Guy asks.

‘A hundred and eleven died,’ I say.

‘Rogue wave, right?’ Guy says. ‘Dived a ship in the Atlantic Ocean that was taken down by one of those. Must’ve been big news at the time.’

‘Very big news.’ I pick up my stabiliser jacket – or stab jacket, as we call them – checking it all over.

‘The rich dude who owned it died too, didn’t he?’ Guy continues. I give Ajay another look. This man talks too much. ‘Man, I can’t wait to get under.’

Ajay shoots him a look. ‘Remember to keep the excitement in check. Safer that way.’

‘Yep, you won’t get much diving done when you’re dead,’ I say.

‘You didn’t tell me what a firecracker we have on our hands,’ Guy says to Ajay. ‘Was she this bad when you were training her?’

‘Worse,’ Ajay says, smiling.

‘I am here, you know,’ I say.

Ajay looks contrite. ‘Sorry, Willow.’

‘You will be sorry when I kick your arse at table football tonight.’

Everyone laughs. This is what I’ve learnt working as a diver the past few years. Let them know when they’ve gone too far then lighten the tone, no hard feelings. The commercial diving world is tight and it’s hard to fit in, especially as a woman. I manage though, I’ve even made some good friends, my ‘tribe’, as I call them.

Guy catches my eye and shoots me a sexy smile, his blond hair hanging in his eyes. I ignore him. Ajay thinks I’m too fussy when it comes to men, comparing them all to my dad. But it’s hard when every time a man looks at me, I think of the way my dad looked at my mum when they were young.

One of my earliest memories is of us all sitting in our huge garden. I watched my parents gaze at each other beneath the willow tree I was named after. Then my dad noticed me watching them so he pulled me into his arms, telling me he loved me over and over.

I loved those summer days at the cottage. That memory of my parents still haunts me now.

We all grow quiet as the buoy marking the ship’s location comes into view. I take a deep breath.

Finally, we’re here.

I focus on the routine of preparing for the dive to calm myself, pulling the shoulder straps of my stabiliser jacket down so it’s nice and snug. Then Ajay helps me get my air tank on. I check my diver computer on my wrist, pressing the small buttons around its large clock face to set all the measurements up. Then I pull my weight belt up and grab my fins before walking to the edge of the boat and looking down at the calm sea. The ship is right under my feet, right here. I press the button to inflate my stab jacket, feeling it expand against my chest. Usually that feeling sends a thrill of excitement through me: time to head in and grapple with the sea. But I’m suddenly feeling apprehensive, even reluctant, to jump in.

Ajay squeezes my shoulder, looking me in the eye. ‘All set?’

‘She can handle herself,’ Guys says. ‘You said yourself she’s dived worse wrecks.’

‘This is different,’ Ajay says.

Guy nods. ‘Yeah, I guess the fact no one’s dived it since the rescue operation makes it more dicey.’

‘It’s not just that,’ I say, glancing at him. ‘That rich dude who owned the ship? That was my dad.’

Shock registers on his face. ‘No way.’

The rest of the crew are quiet as they watch me. I’ve been wanting this for such a long time, campaigning the Greek authorities to let me dive it as soon as I got my first set of qualifications when I was eighteen.

And now here I am.

I turn back to contemplate the sea. It’s gentle and aqua-coloured, tempting me in. I know how deceiving it can be, how in one moment it can turn into a death trap, like it did for my parents.

‘Ready?’ Ajay says, standing beside me as the rest of the crew line up.

I take a deep breath, channelling that queen of the Amazons, then put my snorkel into my mouth.

This is it.

I jump in before I can stop myself, the warm salty water splashing on to my face. My inflated jacket makes me bounce up and down for a few moments, then I start deflating the stab jacket and the weights around my waist pull me under.

The sound of the boat’s engine, birds squawking above, the rippling sea all disappear as I descend. There’s just the deep quiet, that special quality of silence that only comes with being underwater.

The colour of the water around me changes the further down I get, from aqua to green to deep blue then misty black. The warmth dissipates a little and everything seems to slow down.