Chapter 8 #2
When it comes to Mick’s turn, his hands shake as he holds the bow, and he has to re-nock the arrow a couple of times before finally unleashing his first shot.
It limply pings off the string and falls into the water a few metres from the boat.
His second isn’t much better, but at least he reaches the target before meekly swimming out to retrieve everyone’s arrows.
It’s my go next, and after poor Mick’s embarrassing display, I opt for the crossbow. Ade said it was easy to use, and after some helpful mumbling from John Doe, I get two bullseyes in a row. It’s definitely a fluke.
“William Tell couldn’t have done any better.” Sasha stares at me like I’ve cheated, and I remember the other side of her character – the catty, judgemental part of her that she used to hide until she couldn’t any longer.
I’ve even caught Ade’s attention, and he strolls over to us. “Good going, Bridge.” The muscles on his arms and chest are still glistening in the sunlight as he stands next to me. “I suppose that means I should have a turn.”
He comes pretty close to equalling my score, even with the more difficult apparatus.
But this is hardly a shock, as Ade is good at everything.
He always was. It surprised a grand total of no people whatsoever when he signed a record deal while still in full-time education.
I doubt that even his grandmother would have flinched when the news of his first number one came on the radio.
Yep, that sounds about right for our Adesina, I can imagine her saying, if she exists.
“Not bad.” His laughter fills the air once again. “Who’s next?”
We eat in little groups about the place.
Clara seems to have taken pity on poor Mick.
They chomp away at their steaks with their feet dangling off the platform into the just warm enough water.
I catch snatches of their conversation. Mick tries to show off about the endless list of places he’s visited on tour, and Clara says all sorts of sympathetic things that make it sound as if she is the one with the satisfying life and he deserves our pity.
Sasha and Tom have barely spoken to each other since we arrived here, but he watches her interactions as he stuffs his face.
I can’t quite picture what’s going on between them.
Did Tom have an affair and mess everything up?
Is Sasha addicted to diet pills? Or is it just your common-or-garden seven-year itch?
Sasha wants us all to know how much she’s enjoying herself and pulls Ade up to dance with her.
If Dawn were here, it would be all right.
She would clap along, and the scene would feel natural.
Within a minute or two, we’d all be joining in.
But she isn’t around to act as our entertainments manager, and Sasha’s grinding just looks seedy.
I try to imagine why Dawn didn’t come. Was it really just her kids that kept her away?
Or did she simply not want to see us? I know that she and Ade fell out in our second year living together, but that was a long time ago.
Whatever the reason, she’s not here, and Jake and I sit cringing as beautiful, capable Sasha walks her fingers up the rock star’s muscly chest.
I’d like to think that, deep down, Ade’s sorry that she feels the need to act like this, but celebrities must love being the centre of attention more than anyone, and he smiles throughout. Tom picks up the bow again and pretends not to notice.
I don’t eat much but go into the sea instead.
As the water warms my body, and I think how lucky I am to be here, the others make their excuses and disappear back to their cabins.
Mick is the first to go. He walks off muttering about catching forty winks, and Ade watches him curiously without responding.
I wonder if there’s a hint of disdain in his gaze – if he’s tired of supporting his junkie friend – but it soon passes, and he turns back to us.
“We leave here in half an hour and dinner’s at eight,” he says, as if to cover whatever he was thinking. “In the meantime, the boat is yours. You can do whatever you like.”
He claps his hands together in anticipation and hurries up the stairs. Presumably desperate to forget his continuing inferiority with a crossbow, Tom picks up his shirt and chases after the star.
“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about, mate.” He puts his arm around Ade at the top of the stairs, and the two walk off together out of sight.
Ten minutes later, Ryan, me and a couple of sea turtles are the only ones left. We swim around in silence for a while, but that feels rude, so I paddle over to talk to him while the turtles ignore us entirely.
“It’s nice to see you again,” I tell him, and it’s not quite a lie. I just wouldn’t have expected it to happen. “I didn’t realise you knew Ade that well.”
He turns onto his back and flaps his arms and legs to be able to stay afloat while looking at me.
“Neither did I.” He has podgy cheeks that puff up in surprise. “To be honest, I can’t believe I’m here. I honestly didn’t think he liked me. When I got the plane ticket, it blew my mind.”
This makes me laugh a bit more than is polite. “Don’t worry, I thought pretty much the same thing.”
“Yeah, but I’m basically just a fanboy. I used to run a website dedicated to him.
I got in trouble once for selling bootleg recordings of his gigs.
Ade and I never hung out together, but you two were besties, weren’t you?
” He has a soft, slightly camp voice that I remember people teasing him for behind his back and occasionally to his face.
I flap my arms to keep me in the same spot and consider the question.
“We were once. I was dating Jake when they formed the band. Ade and I were like brother and sister, and I really thought I loved Jake, but—” I realise that I am going off topic and switch back.
“The last time I saw Ade, his first single had just come out. I went to one of his gigs, and he pretty much blanked me backstage.”
“At least he put you on the list, eh?” When he smiles this time, I remember that he’s a nice guy. “I went to see him every chance I could and, except for one experience I’d rather forget, I paid for every ticket.”
This information floats between us for a moment.
“I suppose you’re right,” I concede. “It’s not as if we ever argued or anything. He was with all his swanky friends, and I turned up wanting to talk about the time Tom vomited in our professor’s office. Maybe I made a big deal out of nothing.”
“Maybe.” Ryan turns to stare up at the sun as though he’s decided to blind himself.
“In my experience, famous people are some of the biggest nutjobs in the world. All that attention drives them insane, and yet we keep praising them like they’re better than us.
” The belligerent edge to his voice forces me to question my previous good impression.
“Imagine not being able to go outside your own house without someone begging you for a favour. Ade, can I have a selfie? Ade, can I have an autograph? Ade, can I have your baby? It’s enough to make anyone lose it. ”
It’s a bubble, I almost say, but I remember the conversation I had with Clara and change my mind. “What do you do?” I ask instead.
“I work in artist development for a record label, but it’s not as interesting as it—”
There’s a scream followed by a loud splash from around the side of the yacht, and whatever he was about to say is cut short.
Our necks whip in the same direction, and when we don’t hear anyone coming to help, we burst into life.
We swim towards the ship as fast as we can, but it’s clear that Ryan doesn’t have the lungs to keep up with me.
I’m surprised at my own strength, as he tails off to climb onto the platform, and I keep going in search of whatever or whoever fell into the water.
Ninety minutes a week at my local council-subsidised swimming pool has apparently paid off, and when I get closer to the point where I think the noise came from, it’s hard to know where to look.
I can’t see anyone on the yacht, but there’s a red stain on the shiny white paint a metre or so down from the main deck, and so I swim to the point underneath it.
“Hey!” I shout when I’m near enough to see the mark more clearly. This is a perfectly stupid thing to say. It would have been all right if someone had stolen my purse or pushed in front of me getting on a bus, but it’s all wrong on my way to save a life.
It gives me impetus all the same. My arms cut more easily through the waves, and I get to the exact spot and put my head under to see if there’s anything there. The water is perfectly transparent, and I can see someone deep down beneath me, but she’s not moving.
My heart is beating too fast, and there’s acid in my veins. For a moment, uncertainty paralyses me. The panic that I’ve successfully suppressed until now starts to overwhelm me, and all I can think is that I’m too slow, too weak, and Clara is dead.