LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      Is this how Mum and Dad felt before they were eaten up by the sea? I try to picture them. The last time I saw my mum, I was so tired, I barely took it in. Why had I been so bloody tired? If only I’d held on to wakefulness just a few moments longer, there would have been more than just fragments of memory to grasp at: the red of Mum’s lipstick, that crooked tooth of hers. If I’d been more awake, I could have held tight to her, told her not to go away, cried and begged.

      Then Dad. I still remember the feel of his soft fingers against my forehead as he brushed my fringe away from my eyes a few days before, the smell of his citrus aftershave as he leant down to kiss me, green eyes like the sea. Maybe he would have delayed the launch if I’d begged him to? Aunt Hope said he was like putty in my hands, one of the country’s richest businessmen and his daughter had him wrapped around her little finger. Would it have been enough, my desperate plea for him to stay?

      How different things would have been if he had.

      Ahead of me, I see the yellow of the other divers’ fins. The mist disperses and Ajay swivels around, his long legs like reeds. He shoots me a thumbs up and I do the same.

      At first I can’t see the ship, it’s so murky down here. But then it comes into view. I grab the torch attached to my wrist and shine it ahead of me. The ship is vast, stretched across the ocean floor like a white beached whale. Half its upper deck is smashed into the ocean floor’s surface, the side of the ship with its name – Haven Deluxe – emblazoned across it is tilted towards me. What was once floating is now submerged, wood and metal as one with the seabed as it rests on its side in the foggy sea. My aunt Hope says the ship’s dead, an underwater coffin. But it still feels alive to me, as though any moment it might pounce into life and spill out all the memories from my parents’ last night alive.

      I stare at it, feeling an unbearable sadness. The first time I saw it was on the front of the brochure. Even at just seven, I could sense my dad’s excitement. Finally the cruise ship he’d dreamt of building was ready for its maiden voyage. He used to read the brochure to me like it was a copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

      The next time I saw that same photo, it was shown alongside photos of the ship languishing at the bottom of the sea the week it sank. My aunt Hope had been looking after me in the ramshackle pebbledash house she and Mum had grown up in in Busby-on-Sea. We got the call in the middle of the night to confirm they’d died.

      ‘They’re gone,’ she said as she peered up at me in the darkness.

      I’ve never quite forgiven her for that. They’re gone.

      I hadn’t been able to process it properly, I was so young. I remember running to my room and slamming the door, saying ‘no’ over and over. My aunt didn’t come to comfort me. Instead, she went outside and knelt on the shore, smashing her fists into the waves as though she was punishing the sea for taking her sister away from her.

      The memories dissipate. I can’t get caught up in them, I must stay focused.

      So I continue swimming towards the ship, trying to stifle my grief and sadness. After a while, I see the hole in the side of the ship that the rescue divers must have made all those years ago. The lights from our torches join up to illuminate the area in front of us. The hole’s ragged and just about wide enough for two to swim through without snagging skin.

      Am I really about to go in there?

      I stop a moment, floating in the water, staring at the ship. Then I kick my legs hard and head towards the hole. Guy goes to follow me but Ajay holds him back. I know why he’s doing it: I have to be the first one in there. My heart clenches at that.

       Thank you, Ajay.

      I slide my body through the hole and the ship’s once grand dining room is right there in front of me, an eerie shadow of what it once was. I find it hard to breathe for a second, my chest struggling to take in the air being pumped from the tank on my back. The tank itself suddenly feels heavy, too heavy, and my heads swims slightly.

      I try to focus on my breathing as I look around me, the rest

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