Writer 

Jude Bridge

Western Australia

SHIP TO SHORE

006

          Zelda calls, her voice sounds as stretched as her face, she can’t blink anymore on account of the eyebrow lift and you could use her breasts as a shelf, they’re so high and solid. She and Bill, the lump of lard in an expensive suit, are going to be on Manarola for the weekend and do we want to join them? Beaumont isn’t keen but that’s not unusual, he hasn’t displayed enthusiasm for anything since the problems with the pump. The bilge pump. He spends more time with that pump than he spends with me. We have a six million dollar yacht and he lives in the bowels of the thing, scurrying around in the dirty water and worrying. The first time the pump failed it was clogged with seagrass and the second time rats had chewed through the wiring. So from now on, he’s not going to let that pump out of his sight.

          We’re on our way to Manarola when the pump fails again. Beaumont comes up on deck shaking with bilge rage and bilge disappointment. He says we aren’t going to Manarola, we may sink on the way. He’s terribly dramatic when he gets going. The Coastguard will be with us in an hour or two, they’re busy at this time of year. I suggest we open champagne while we wait. Beaumont gives me a dirty look, but fetches me a champagne before returning to his bilging. We haven’t been getting on too well lately. I drift off to sleep in the sun.
When I wake, my head’s pounding and I feel heavy and lethargic, as though I’ve taken a sleeping pill. The yacht is wedged in a cave and isn’t as high in the water as it should be. Through a gap in the rock I can see the pretty pastel-coloured houses of Manarola. I shout for Beaumont but he doesn’t answer. I fail to find him in the hull, which is filling quickly with water. As I climb out, I notice the dinghy has gone.
           

           There’s a voicemail on my phone from Zelda. She says Beaumont has arrived at the hotel and she’s sorry to hear I’m not feeling well, those summer colds are the worst. Coincidentally, Bill has one too, and has stayed home, so it’s just her and Beaumont.

           The Coastguard doesn’t answer my call for help, all operators are currently busy.
           Beaumont doesn’t know that as a teenager I was a champion swimmer, he’s never been terribly interested in my life before we met.
           I pull on the lifejacket and carefully step onto the sharp rock that juts out over the water, then dive in. I should make it to the hotel in time for dinner.