Page 60 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

We rev up the engine to head back to the kiosk. I am high with anticipation as we zip along. Matteo has my nerves on end. He knows everything about me, and I know nothing at all about him.

I yell over my shoulder at him, ‘Tell me all about you.’

It’s probably not the time, but like I say, I’m really not myself.

‘Seriously?’ he bellows. ‘Can’t it wait?’

I shake my head. I need to know where this gorgeous man comes from. What he does. How he got here. What sort of woman he goes for.

He throws his head back to laugh just as we are hit by a massive wave. In one violent motion, the jet ski topples to one side, throwing us into the water with a thud. I’m momentarily disoriented as my head smashes into the sea as though it was concrete, and a swirl of waves instantly sucks me under.

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When I surface, I hear much yelling and shouting. I search for Matteo and spot him doing the same. Relief floods his face when he sees me bobbing up and down.

‘Stay there. I’ll come get you!’ he yells.

It’s hard to know what’s happening. I swallow a huge gulp of salty sea as the waves crash over my head.

Matteo swims over, pointing to the cause of the waves. A speedboat manned by lunatics is dangerously close to snorkellers, families in kayaks and paddleboarders, many of whom have been thrown into the sea like us. The lifeguards are blowing whistles from the beach and people are waving angrily at the revellers on board. Music is pumping out of the boat, and they seem oblivious.

‘Dickheads,’ Matteo says, grabbing my life jacket to pull me to him. ‘You okay? Enough drama for you? Bet you’re loving it.’

He’s got a dangerous twinkle in his eye as though he’s enjoying this moment. Our noses are practically touching. His eyes are glistening and dark. His arm feels like a vice. Without thinking, I hook my legs around his waist and cling to him. Our life jackets are taking most of our weight.

It’s one of those special moments that will be recorded in my memory banks and replayed over and over. It may even be deserving of its own eighties-style power ballad.

A scream alerts us to danger, and we see a young girl, at the top of the slide on a large pedalo, knocked into the sea as the waves throw it off balance. The parents and young siblings scream as she’s pulled under. Both Matteo and I instinctively swim over to help. The large pedalo looms above us, rocking out of control. Children are panicking and clutching on to the sides. The parents struggle to get out of the seats as it causes more imbalance. Everything happens in slow motion. The parents are screaming. ‘Where is she? Where is she? Lucie! Lucie!’

The pedalo is too close to us, pounding down with such a force it makes it difficult to stay above the waves, and we are in danger of being sucked underneath. A terrifying wall of sea rises up and curls away, the white foam making it impossible to see anything below its surface. I thrash my arms to swim away from the boat bashing down beside me when I spot something pink under the water.

It’s the child’s life jacket.

She’s hidden amongst the thrashing waves. I reach under to haul her up to me. The girl must only be about three. Her eyes are wide with fear as she coughs out some water. She feels tiny in my arms and she’s instinctively clawing at my head to reach above the water, which pushes me under. My life jacket is giving me some much-needed buoyancy but between the waves crashing over our heads and the sheer panic of the situation, I’m fearing for our lives.

Matteo spots us both struggling to keep our heads above water and reaches us in seconds. He tries to pull the girl from me but she’s clinging on to me too tightly. We swim her over to the pedalo, but it’s too choppy and dangerous to lift her on board. The hard plastic is a ton weight as it smashes against the waves.The parents are screaming, the girl is crying, the speedboat is thundering past unaware that it’s creating tidal waves of panic as it circles around us.

‘Matteo!’ I shout, pointing to the jet ski, which has floated away from us. He slices through the water over to it. After a few attempts, he makes it up on board and drives it towards us, wave after wave beating him back.

The waves make it difficult to swim towards him, especially as I can only use one arm, the other clamped to the girl. It takes some effort to fight the continual surge of waves and I’m instantly tired once we reach the jet ski. I make several failed attempts to clamber on board as Matteo struggles to keep balance. Luckily, he puts his magnificent strong arms to good use and reaches down to pull up first the little girl and then me as though we weigh nothing at all. I clutch her closely, making sure she’s okay.

‘It’s okay,’ I croon in her ear. ‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

She sags against me, exhausted. Matteo signals to the pedalo to go ashore. The coastguard races towards us to check if we need assistance before they speed off to administer a severe reprimand to the irresponsible louts on the speedboat. A kayak with two lifeguards comes over to help guide everyone back to the beach.

There’s much crying when we reunite the little girl with her family. The parents are beyond thankful to us. The father shakes our hands many times, repeating over and over how grateful he is. The mother is clamping the child to her while the siblings cling to her legs. A whole crowd of sun worshippers has gathered to help lug the pedalo out of the water, and more lifeguards have raced over to offer support.

Matteo and I step back to let them recover. My legs are wobbling and I’m swaying slightly as my muscles go weak.

‘You were magnificent,’ he says, reaching out a hand to steady me.

I gawp back unattractively. No one has ever said that to me before, ever. Water is dripping down from my hair as I stare back at him.

‘So are you,’ I say, catching myself. ‘Sowereyou.’

‘You’re a very strong swimmer,’ he says. ‘The way you coped with those waves. The way you dived under to save her. That was awesome. And when Cherry fell off the yacht, you went straight in to get her without hesitation. You’re fearless.’

Me, fearless?This makes me instinctively embarrassed. I’m nothing of the sort.

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