Dying To Dive

By Erin Miller

A diving club holiday in idyllic Cornwall, but these people are not what they seem. Karen Winter, a nervous diver due to a previous accident unwittingly gradually discovers their secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tredition
• Release date: Nov 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9783347640894

Erin Miller

This is Erin Miller’s second novel, and again she explores her character’s mental and physical problems as they relate to each other and to the main plot. Erin has always enjoyed creative writing, having previous short stories published and judging writing competitions. She is a qualified Teacher of English, has three children, and lives in the Sussex countryside with her husband and many rescued animals.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: Friday Evening.

Torrential, monsoon-like summer rain battered the windscreen of my aged Jeep, a ‘hand me up’ from my younger brother. A police siren screamed up behind me, then sped past. Worn wipers struggled to compete with the constant grey spray from passing lorries on the water strewn road. The A303 blurred into the distance - a slippery snake lost in a murky haze. Names, familiar from journeys to childhood holidays, floated by: Basingstoke, Andover, Yeovil …

I rubbed my eyes with one hand, whilst holding the juddering steering wheel with the other. The vibration had started recently at speeds of over 40mph. I would have to take it to the garage when I got home and pay another fortune. I wondered how much longer I would be able to afford to keep yet another old wreck going.

Straight from work, and a six hour drive to Cornwall. No wonder I was tired. Was I mad? But Luke had insisted we come tonight, so that we could make the most of diving tomorrow. Weather permitting, of course.

My boyfriend snored loudly in the passenger seat. His clothes were their usual crumpled selves: he took no interest in his appearance. His thick, black rimmed glasses had slipped down his nose. His tee-shirt was faded and coffee stained. His jeans had real holes in them – not the designer type. When I had first met him, I had found this look somehow endearing, as if he wanted mothering. Now I just wished he would make some effort.

To be fair, he had been working most of the night before, and all today, on a major I.T. blip at work. Luke the hero, the specialist, the number one go-to. His life revolved around computers. But he was amazingly talented at what he did, or so his employers seemed to think.

The back seat of the car was stuffed full of scuba dive gear, with little room for our suitcase. Two large dive boxes sat, one on top of the other, blocking most of my view through the rain smeared rear window.

A whole week away. It sounded great, in theory. A week away from our pressured jobs and from my pokey flat, made even pokier since Luke had moved in. I wondered again, why we couldn’t have lived in his flat. It’ll save money, he said. I can rent it out for more than we would get for your flat. We don’t need much space. I grimaced. Speak for yourself, I had argued. But, as usual, lately, we did things Luke’s way.

A speeding van came past, showering my car with dirty rainwater. How could anyone see well enough in these conditions to drive so fast? The road had become a mirror and the distorted, reflected lights of cars swam in puddles. Concentration was hard.

My train of thoughts returned to Luke. I hated thinking of myself as some kind of victim, or downtrodden female. I encouraged myself to believe that I was a strong, independent woman, in full control of her life. However, the truth was often rather different, I forced myself to admit.

I was 38 years old. I had never had a relationship that had gone further than two years. You see, I have this empathetic side to me which always draws me towards men with problems. I feel sorry for them and fall for their hard luck stories. I want to fix them. And I never can. And then I feel let down.

A psychiatrist might call it frustrated motherhood. And yes. I would have liked, would still like, a baby. I just couldn’t see it happening now, especially not with Luke. Not the way our relationship seemed to be going at the moment.

I desperately needed a shot of caffeine. My eyes were straining on the river that the road had become, and a nagging, throbbing pain had begun over my left eye. I decided to stop at the next services. The last thing I needed was a migraine, or worse still, to fall asleep at the wheel!

Luke stirred as I stopped the car, in the closest bay I could find to the services‘ entrance, which wasn’t at all close, of course. I struggled into my thin denim jacket, to protect me from the wet run across the car park to the shelter of the building.

Why have we stopped? Luke lunged at his glasses as they fell off the end of his nose and dived towards the floor.

I need coffee. And a sugar hit. I replied, feeling my anger creeping up. Did he think I was some kind of robot? Do you want anything? I added, rather huffily.

Nah. He yawned. Don’t be too long. It’ll take forever in this shitty weather. I need a good sleep before tomorrow.

And I don’t? Not for the first time, I regretted agreeing to this trip. What I would give, right now, for a week on a beach in Greece or Spain, or indeed, anywhere hot, with nothing to do but relax. My tentative suggestion at this idea had been shot down in flames.

We need to do something, Luke had insisted, I would be bored just lying on a beach. Maybe he would, but I certainly wouldn’t!

Luke had been scuba diving since he was in his mid-twenties – he was now 35. He was, in fact, a qualified diving instructor, but preferred to go on dives that others had arranged. Less hassle, he said. More time to do what I want, instead of having to look after other people. Yes, selfishness was one of his major failings.

I, on the other hand, had only started scuba diving when I met Luke. I had been very reluctant. Memories of a free-diving accident still lingered in my mind. Over the years, I had tried to suppress my fear of being under water, but it had never quite left me. I blinked away the horrible picture my brain had just produced. My lungs at bursting point, whilst my foot was trapped in a rock.

Luke had been quite encouraging at first, wanting me to share in his passion, until he realised that I was a very nervous diver. He booked me in for lessons at the nearest Dive Centre, and then let me get on with it. I was a slow learner, as it took me a while to trust the breathing apparatus, but eventually I passed the first qualification.

Other than the training dives, this would be my first experience of proper diving. I was somewhat anxious. Not only of the diving, which would be deeper and more challenging than I had done in the training, but also of having to spend a whole week in close quarters with people I did not know very well, some I hadn’t even met, and most of whom were experienced divers. I am not the most social or confident of beings. I worried endlessly about having a panic attack under water and spoiling everyone’s dive. And that everyone would resent having such a klutz on their holiday.

Shuffling forward in the queue for coffee, I eyed up the pastries on display. I needed a sugar boost to get me through the rest of the drive.

As I wandered back through the services, clutching my coffee, cake and packet of painkillers, I decided to treat myself to a book. I had stupidly managed to run over my e-reader last week – it had dropped out of my bag, as I got into the car, and I hadn’t noticed. Another thing I couldn’t afford to replace. A crime thriller by one of my favourite authors came into view. It was my favourite genre. I was determined to make time for some relaxation, I decided, whatever Luke said. We weren’t joined at the hip and it was my holiday as well as his.

Edging the car up a winding, one track lane towards, what the Sat Nav suggested, was the holiday destination, I peered through heavy aching eyes. It was dark now, and the parking area at the front of the cottage held only one other car. A small porch light twinkled in the drizzle, the heavy rain having finally subsided a little.

Are you sure this is it? I questioned Luke, who had reluctantly had to remain awake for the last few miles to help me navigate through small Cornish lanes in the poor visibility.

Jake beat us to it! exclaimed Luke, rapidly becoming animated, now that his week of diving was in sight.

Evidently the Mazda MX5 belonged to my diving instructor. I cringed a little, remembering what a timid learner Jake had thought me, before tiredness started to overwhelm me and my silly worries. I just wanted a shower and bed. Something to eat would be great, but I didn’t have the energy to cook. I couldn’t remember what the cooking arrangements were, but if I had to make do with a slice of toast it was fine.

Staggering in with my dive box, I found Luke, who had rushed into the cottage empty handed, in the kitchen. He had already been handed a scotch by Jake, who looked relaxed in cream chinos and a white shirt, undone enough to reveal some chest hair. His petite Romanian girlfriend, Natalie, whom I had met briefly once, was busy laying out a feast of food on the table. The smell was divine. It was just what I needed. My spirits began to restore themselves.

She smiled at me. Hi. How was your drive? Such awful weather! Jake and I came down this morning, so we have been here a few hours. Thought it would be nice to get everyone round the table for a meal tonight and dive planning for tomorrow!

I smiled and gratefully accepted the wine glass which Natalie was proffering, gulping half of it down too quickly, before setting it on a bookcase and returning to the car, which was obviously not going to unpack itself.

I was still unloading the car 15 minutes later – yes, just me – Luke was deep in dive chat with Jake – when an estate car crunched into the drive. A man in his 50s emerged, scruffily dressed, long grey hair in a ponytail, looking tired and annoyed. It was John Cummings, the other dive instructor with the club. In the passenger seat, was his disabled wife, Trisha. I had met her once at a pub social, but had not had much opportunity to talk to her on that occasion. I knew she did a lot of behind the scenes work for the club, and it was generally her who sent out emails and information.

I considered that it would be quite a boring week for her, stuck in the cottage while we were all off diving. Maybe I could stay and keep her company one day?

I questioned myself. Was I really being altruistic here, was I trying to escape the more challenging diving, or was I wishing for a quiet day, during what I knew, would be a very hectic week. I stifled a yawn. Whatever the reason, I needed a day of me time, a nothing day.

The week promised to be stressful, as well as full on. I knew enough to know that Jake and John hated each other with a vengeance, although they managed to keep a semblance of professionalism at dive training. Various rumours circulated the dive club as to why, but I had little time for gossip. I had wished, though, that it had been John who had taught me to dive, as he appeared to have more patience than his egotistical rival, Jake. Did I say rival – I meant colleague!

John extracted a shiny new wheelchair from the boot of his car, and pushed it around to the passenger door. I offered help, but was brusquely dismissed. Trisha, a dainty woman of around 50, was unceremoniously lifted into the chair and pushed inside before I could do more than say hi.

I continued ferreting about in the car, looking for things that I thought I would need tonight. Poor woman, I mused. To be treated like that. But maybe I was being unfair. John was probably as tired and as desperate for sleep as I was.

Before I went in, I turned around to stare into the dark distance. It was still drizzling, but very lightly now. I knew I was looking towards the Helford Passage, but that view would have to wait until morning. The sky, much more expansive than at home in suburban Bromley, was filled with large grey clumps of cloud, some backlit by the obscured moon. The air felt muggy and humid, but so clean and pure. I realised that I was getting quite damp, but the moisture was welcome on my warm skin, sticky from the long drive.

Another car crawled up the gravel drive. An original Volkswagen Beetle, re-sprayed pristine pink and shining in its gleaming wetness. After a period of awkward shunting, a woman emerged. I didn’t recognise her from my dive training sessions. She looked around 35 years old, with long blonde hair and was wearing a somewhat skimpy sundress. She lifted an expensive looking dive bag out of the backseat, before coming over to me.

Hi, there! I’m Poppy. I don’t think we’ve met? She smiled widely and proffered a flawless, manicured hand, shiny pink nail extensions glinting in the rain. Perfectly aligned white teeth showed through bright red, heavily filled lips. Brittle mascara surrounded her eyes, like barbed wire fences.

Hi. I’m Karen. I’m fairly new to the club – and to diving! I responded, conscious of my pale face, devoid of makeup, and my crumpled dress, which clung stickily to my back. I instantly felt inferior in every respect.

We’ll have to change that! Poppy purred, before turning towards the house. What men have we got on offer this week? She turned back and winked conspiratorially at me. I hope I’m going to have some fun! Are you up for a bit of fun, Karen?

Before I could think of a reply, she strode off into the cottage, leaving me alone again in the dark. I started to feel even more worried about the week ahead. Inexperienced as a diver, and unsure in my relationship, I felt suddenly cold, and it wasn’t the night air. I would be spending the week with a bunch of expert divers that I hardly knew. This woman, Poppy, was clearly on the prowl. That was all my shaky relationship needed. My confidence, suc as it was, drained through my feet and into the gravel drive.

Taking a deep breath, I went inside with my last remaining items. Poppy was talking to Luke and John, and was clearly enjoying playing to her audience. Trisha had been ‘parked’ in her wheelchair at the far end of the table, where she sat alone. She was clutching a glass of water, and, by the look on her face, she was both extremely fed up and exhausted. Natalie was pouring drinks. Luke didn’t appear to notice my entrance, or that I had brought in all the luggage, hanging, as he appeared to be now, on Poppy’s every word.

Dinner’s ready, guys! Natalie announced, peering into the oven, where a huge lasagne bubbled away. French bread, salad, and cooked vegetables sat ready on the table. I will keep some back for the others, she continued, starting to ladle dollops of the meal onto a line of plates.

John came over to the table and sat himself next to Poppy, whose wrist, adorned with a large collection of silver and gold bracelets, jangled as she lifted her wine glass. And were those real diamond rings? But how rude was this man, not to sit with his wife! I began to be glad that he hadn’t been my instructor, after all.

I sat myself down next to Trisha, and smiled at her.

Hi. I think we’ve met very briefly. I’m Karen Winter. I’m one of the newbies of the club.

Trisha smiled warmly at me. As her face lit up, I could see her lovely smile and shining eyes.

„Yes. I remember seeing you at the social. You’ll soon be one of the pros, don’t worry!"

As the others took their places, the door to the hallway opened. A woman in her fifties appeared, looking slightly dishevelled. At her side, a skinny boy of about 16 struggled under the weight of a large dive box.

Come on in, Lisa! How was the drive? Hi there, Harry. Just in time for dinner. Leave your dive box in the hall for now. Natalie acted the hostess very naturally, making everyone feel welcome.

It was awful! Lisa also looked tired and stressed.

Harry and his mother sat next to one another, on my right hand side. Harry’s long blond fringe fell into his eyes as he began shovelling food into his mouth, the minute Natalie handed him the plate.

You’d think I never fed him! Lisa said, but not jokingly. Harry glared at her from under his hair, but said nothing.

We’re just waiting for Adam, Ian and Leonard then? I think they’re travelling together. Jake announced. Trust the filth, the nutter and the poker donkey to be late!

An uncomfortable silence descended. All that could be heard for a few, long seconds was the sound of Harry scraping his plate. Jake smiled sardonically and swigged what must have already been his fourth or fifth glass of wine. Politically Correct was not his middle name, and he loved nothing more than to shock. I remembered some of his cutting comments on the dive course. When he wasn’t flirting with the more attractive females, that was, of which he obviously hadn’t considered me to be one!

It was Natalie, of course, who came to the rescue. Seconds anyone? There’s a little to spare, still leaving some for the late arrivals. She had an attractive accent and personality, with a winning smile, and I could see why Jake was taken with her. I wondered what she saw in him.

Murmurs of yes please and sounds great filled the awkward cavern in the room. Muted conversations started to return.

Natalie produced strawberry trifle, followed by cheese and biscuits and soon we were all suitably full. I helped clear the table but guiltily decided to leave the washing up tonight to the others, who were now spreading maps on the table and googling dive sites. Pendennis Steps was being mentioned. They obviously had way more energy than me. I was shattered,