The California Club Part 13

'Me?'

'You,' Helen repeats. 'I thought he was nearly there and then Elise comes along.'

'Nearly there? What do you mean?' I swish closer.

'It was just a feeling I had. Before I left, you two seemed to be closer than ever.'

'We were.' I feel a twinge of sadness. 'Then she ...' I tail off. 'So, you were the first to know about the engagement!' I have to bring this up.

'Don't read too much into that, they had a reason for telling me, I just can't say what.'

Oh G.o.d I pray they're not planning on getting married out here. No, it can't be that. It wouldn't happen so soon after the engagement, surely?

'It feels weird, him having so many secrets from me,' I confess.

'Well, hopefully you'll get a chance to talk on this trip. Get back to how you were.'

'Do you think that's even possible now?'

'Anything's possible,' Helen insists.

I sit quietly for a moment.

'What do you think of her?' I venture, trying to sound casual though Helen has always been able to see straight through me.

'You want me to say something bad, don't you?'

'If you could!' I joke.

'I'm not going to,' Helen sets me straight. 'I made a No Negativity pledge to The California Club.'

'Oh. Okay.' I look down at my board, feeling a little bit told off.

'But if I did have to ...'

'Yes?'

'I'd find it really easy!' she teases.

I grin back at her. That's all I need to know. I gingerly match Helen's belly-up position it feels like I'm lying on an extra firm water bed. Every time a wave sloshes me, I spasm like I'm about to tip up but Helen just rolls with it.

'You look so comfortable out here,' I note, shaking off the latest dousing.

'It took me a while but Reuben has been amazingly patient. He used to be a lifeguard so I felt in safe hands.'

'A lifeguard, really? Did he teach you any tricks of the trade?'

Helen thinks for a moment. 'Well, if you do try and rescue someone you first have to acknowledge that you are seriously putting your own life at risk most times they'll grab on to you in the panic, pushing you under so you have to pretty firm with them and get them to follow your instructions or they'll drown you both.'

'How firm?'

'Splashing water in their face or bending their thumbs back to breaking point if they continue to grab at you-'

'Oh G.o.d!' I gasp.

'It's a life and death situation,' Helen a.s.serts. 'I think the best trick if someone has locked their arms around you is to push them upwards by the elbows and you go down deeper into the water they're not going to follow you there, they want to get up!'

'All this just to get them to behave then you have to rescue them too!' I shake my head.

As Helen explains the various procedures, I watch the sun sneak behind the one cloud in the sky. It's chilly without the direct rays but I'm reluctant to go in, wanting to prolong the antic.i.p.ation of wrapping a warm towel around me.

'Do you ever pinch yourself you know, that this is your life now?' I ask.

'Every day,' Helen affirms.

'Really?'

'Sometimes twice a day.'

'And it's all because of The California Club?'

'Well, a lot of this was here already ...' Helen flicks me with seawater to make her point.

'I know that!' I swipe her back. 'But it really works, this program or whatever it is?'

'It does if you believe in it.'

I think for a moment. 'Do you think I could have chosen a better wish?'

No reply.

'Helen?' I look over and find her sights eagerly trained on a guy in khaki shorts loitering on the edge of the parking lot. There's something weird stuck to his leg... I try to focus oh, it's a tattoo one of those jagged Maori tribal prints running the length of his right calf. I'm about to comment on how that design has been done to death when I notice the delight in her eyes.

'Is that Reuben?' I ask.

'I'll be back in ten!' is her reply as she slides on to her stomach and swooshes back to the sh.o.r.e.

'As in Hang Ten?' I call after her.

No reply.

I continue to bob on my board as a daddy surfer skims past with his three-year-old son on his shoulders then return my gaze to Helen and the tattoo guy they seem deeply engrossed. He's wearing sungla.s.ses and the hood of his sweatshirt is up so I can't get a good look at his face but he definitely looks cool. I wonder if it is her boyfriend. Let's see if they kiss.

'Yikes!' There's a thud-jolt as Zo's board collides with mine.

'I think my hair is dreading,' she frets, with good cause. 'Me and Sasha are going in. You coming?'

'Where's Elliot?' I twist around, scanning the swell.

'Way over there.' Zo points to where the current has lured him south. 'Maybe you should go and round him up?'

'Okay,' I smile, enticed by a vision of the two of us floating into the sunset together. What a life we'd have: taming seahorses, diving for sunken treasure, playing Frisbee with the starfish...

I glance back at Elise, still hunched grumpily on the sh.o.r.e even though Helen is now by her side, her khaki-shorted friend nowhere in view. Can't have been her boyfriend then or she would have introduced him.

Flipping onto my stomach, I start propelling myself through the water towards Elliot. I'm just thinking how chilled he looks sitting there staring out to where the dark green waters meet the streaky orange sky when his spine straightens and he looks strangely alert. Uh-oh I fear the mother of all tidal waves looming on the horizon but no, it remains sloppy choppy as far as the eye can see. All the same, I get a nervous shiver. I don't like coming this far out to sea.

I throw another glance back at the sh.o.r.e. From my long-distance squint it looks like the girls are tucking into some goodies. I want to get back to safety and snacks but the pull to be with Elliot is stronger. I'm nearly with him now, just twenty or so meters to go.

Head down I paddle on until, amid the sloshing water and my grunting efforts, I realize I can hear my name, 'Lara! Lara! LARA!' getting louder and more frantic. I scramble into a sitting position. Where's Elliot gone? His board is dragging sideways but I can't see him. My heart batters at my ribcage. All of a sudden I spot his contorted face straining out of the water, 'Get help!' he yells. His panicked eyes meet mine and then he disappears under the slapping waves, forced down by a heavy hand.

Where he sinks, an old man rises up, wild with fear. Limbs thrash and flail. For a moment I think Elliot is being attacked but as their positions reverse, I realize he is trying to save some old geezer and the old geezer is trying to use him as a float, just as Helen predicted. Helen! I swivel around and call and wave frantically towards the sh.o.r.e but the wind just blows my cries back into my face. Even if they did hear me, they're too far away to act fast enough. One more look at Elliot and I've plunged into the water, tears mingling with the salt. Got to get to him and do the elbow push-up shove and then break the old guy's thumbs! Is that right? Oh G.o.d! What if I cack-handedly elbow someone in the throat or concuss them with the surfboard I'm dragging behind me?

For the first time in my life I ask myself, 'What would Pamela Anderson do?' Not having a body double to hand, I enter the fray grabbing for something anything to pull up to the surface. What the h.e.l.l is that? I gasp for air. Eurgh old man's bottom! I splutter as I come face to face with Elliot.

'Quick, pa.s.s your board over!' he gasps.

I pull it between us.

'Grab on to that!' he urges the old man, wriggling free of his desperate grasp.

The old man grips the board as if he's hanging from a window ledge, not entirely convinced he's alive.

'Reach across,' I guide him, using all my strength to push his saggy-skinned legs up to the surface so he can lie out flat.

Now I'm panting. Through stinging eyes I look for Elliot. He's nowhere to be seen. Milliseconds before cold dread sets in he appears on the other side of the board.

'Are you okay?' I gasp.

'Yeah, you?' he chirrups, jaggling his ears with a level of blase-dom reserved for the seriously in-denial.

I decide to play along with him and shrug, 'Never better!'

'Great! Hop on!' Elliot motions for me to slide on to the back of the board.

As he holds the front steady, I take my position. 'If only we had something to paddle with, it'd be like Hawaii Five-O!' I declare.

'Meets One Foot in the Grave,' Elliot mutters before politely enquiring, 'Are you all right, sir?'

Three successive blinks apparently means the old man is fine.

'Okay, your turn,' I tell Elliot, patting the board.

'I can't.'

'It's okay, I'm sure it'll take all three of us.'

'No really, I can't.'

I frown confusion.

'He pulled my trunks off in the struggle,' Elliot whispers.

As my eyebrows raise, my eyes drift downwards.

'Don't look!' he exclaims, frantically swirling up the water around his groin.

'I'm not looking!' I lie.

I can't believe I've just had a near-death experience and yet my face is plastered with a silly grin.

Chapter 11.

'Don't be surprised if there's a news report tomorrow saying half your ocean is missing.' Elliot collapses on the sand, still spitting seawater.

'If the news says anything it'll be "Jet-lagged hero saves saggy-bottomed old man,"' cheers Helen.

'Followed by "Raven-haired beauty saves jet-lagged hero."' Elliot winks at me.

'Wash your mouth out with this.' Elise thrusts her lukewarm bottle of Evian at Elliot.

I smile to myself. I know it's the compliment not the salt she wants him to swill away.

'I've got something better than that.' Helen rummages in her rucksack, producing a bottle of Jose Cuervo tequila, a stretchy-string bag of limes and a penknife. 'Thought we'd have a few shots to revive us.'

'Hair of the pero!' Zo enthuses.

'Did you bring any salt?' Elise reaches over to nose in Helen's rucksack but Helen is too quick for her: 'Just lick your skin!' she grins, whipping her bag out of reach. 'Suck, swig and bite the lime!'

'But my skin's not salty,' Elise complains. 'I haven't been in the water.'

'I know!' Zo whoops. 'Let's do it so we lick each other!'

A collective 'Ewwww!' greets her suggestion.

'I think it works better when there's more than one guy present,' Helen notes.

'I don't mind,' jokes Elliot.

Elise finds this hysterical. In a parallel universe.