Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

She grabbed the male diver’s arm and pointed upwards, silently telling him to head to the surface and let the boat know to expect them. He swam towards the light shimmering above.

Turning back to the female diver, Marlo realised the girl had dislodged her own mouthpiece and was panicking as water threatened to enter her lungs. The struggling caused the mouthpiece to get caught up in the net also, and the girl was unable to pull it free. Her eyes were wild, helpless as she fought against the net.

Marlo approached, took a deep breath and put her own mouthpiece in her hand, motioning with her other hand for the girl to take two breaths. She knew how hard it would be for someone in panic mode to hand it back, so kept hold of it as the girl took in two long breaths. Marlo replaced the mouthpiece in her own mouth, not having time to think about potential germs, something that normally bothered her greatly, and pulled the knife from her belt. Working methodically, she cut through the netting, freeing the girl’s own mouthpiece and placing it in her hand.

Then she bent double and started cutting through the rest of the netting to get the girl free. It seemed like it took forever, but finally Marlo cut through the last piece that held the diver in place, and glanced up, wondering why she wasn’t swimming to the surface.

The diver’s mouthpiece hung limply by her side, and Marlo realised she’d been too scared to put it in her mouth when Marlo had handed it to her.

Damn it, come on, lovely, let’s get you to the boat so we can get you breathing again.

Swimming with urgency, Marlo swam powerfully towards the surface, her arms securing the girl to her chest. As her head burst free of the water, Marlo pulled the mouthpiece from her mouth and took in a deep breath before pinching the diver’s nose and exhaling into her mouth. She breathed another breath into the girl before turning to the boat and passing her to the other students who were waiting with arms stretched out.

Give them their due, they all looked petrified, but there were no tears. The male diver pulled Marlo’s outstretched arm, helping her into the boat.

Marlo laid the girl flat and tilted her head back, checking her pulse while she used her cheek to feel for breath. There was nothing.

Breathing two long breaths into the girl, Marlo started chest compressions. Counting the compressions out loud, she got to thirty and leant to give the girl oxygen again.

Suddenly, the girl coughed, and Marlo turned her head to the side, so she didn’t choke on the seawater.

‘Easy, love, you’re all right now. Just try to breathe.’ Turning to the other kids, she added, ‘I need something to warm her up. Blankets, jackets, whatever?’

The boat was already cutting through the waves on its way back to shore. The male diver handed Marlo a couple of blankets and knelt beside his friend.

‘You OK, Gemma?’ His hand stroked hers softly and Marlo realised the pair were a couple. Gemma nodded back at him, tears glistening in her eyes.

Twisting to face Marlo, she said, ‘Thank you.’

‘Next time you guys go diving, remember your diving knives. When did you do your qualifications?’

‘We did the PADI course when we were in college. This was our first dive in three years.’

‘Didn’t you do a refresher dive?’ At his head shake, Marlo added, ‘Book in for some practice sessions if you’re planning on diving again. You need to be prepared under the water. Gemma very nearly died. She’ll be OK but she’ll need checking out at hospital.’ Marlo left them together and sat back on one of the benches, finally unhooking her tank and pushing it off her shoulders. Some days are good dive days, some days not so much. At least she’s OK, though. She shuddered as she thought of what would have happened if she hadn’t been there. Not for the first time, she appreciated Sharpie’s words of advice when it came to experience.

 

Chapter Eight

Wear Street, Sunderland – 4 November

H e parked the car in the alley to the rear of the house. Like he always did. He knew no one would look twice even if he parked right out front. Nothing was ever noticed in this part of town, but he still knew he needed to be safe.

Rocko had told him to be there before nine-thirty. It made him happy, the knowledge that this man would always make sure he was taken care of and let him choose a girl who suited. Sometimes the girls even came with recommendations. Rocko didn’t ask what he did with the girls. It was part of what made good business. As long as he paid the set fee then he could choose whichever girl he wanted, and no questions were ever asked.

He silently fingered the wad of cash in his inside pocket as he walked round the street to the front door. Momentarily, he felt guilty. This money wasn’t really his. His own funds had run out some time ago. But he knew she wouldn’t mind. She would understand that he had been trying to help someone in need. He had to believe that she’d understand, or he’d go nuts. Besides, a grand was nothing in this day and age. It would barely even be missed, he was certain.

He pushed open the door with the faded, peeling paint and stepped inside. His nose wrinkled automatically; he couldn’t stop it. It happened every time he walked in here. The smell of piss and shit with the sweet overtones of sweat and drugs, and the utter stench of desperation assaulted his nostrils, but he stoically marched into the hall.

He was here to do a service, to find a girl and help her. And no smell was