Misspent Youth

22. MESSING ABOUT ON THE WATER

TALLINGTON LAKES WERE SITUATED several miles outside Stamford. Originally huge quarry pits, they’d been filled with water and over the decades developed into a superb water sports and yachting resort. There was a lake for each activity: sailing, water skiing and boarding, windsurfing, and Jet Skiing. The four main lakes were separated by strips of land that were lined with elaborate mobile homes and small A-frame cabins, each one with its own mooring.

Martin’s parents owned one at the far end of the Jet Ski lake, a caravan that was eight meters long and luxuriously furnished, surrounded by tall pines and silver birch trees. Wooden decking ran along one side, covered by a blue-and-white-striped awning. A big solar-pumped barbeque grill stood at one end.

The Land Rover was parked outside, just off the dirt strip that lined the lake. The Europol bodyguards parked their BMW a few meters away. Tim and Martin and Colin manhandled the Jet Ski out of the back of the Land Rover as the others started to arrive. Pretty soon they were all inside the caravan, laughing and shouting as they got changed, ready for the big day.

Martin and Simon hefted the Jet Ski up between them and carried it down the steep slope to the shoreline. Tim stood at the top, wearing swim shorts and a tatty old UV-resistant shirt.

“You ready or what?” Simon asked. He was buzzing with excitement. Everyone in the crew shared it. They’d spent the whole long, boring, miserable winter preparing for this moment.

Tim laced up his trainers. “Let’s go!” They all high-fived.

The Jet Ski was bobbing in the shallows, with Martin and Simon holding on to it, water coming over their knees. Tim waded out and managed to wobble his way onto the saddle without capsizing the little machine. Rachel handed him a pair of broad wraparound goggles with gold lenses. Colin checked the choke and throttle, then pressed the starter. The engine kicked in at once, bringing a pack of whoops from the crew standing on the mooring above. Tim waited a moment to make sure the engine was running smoothly, then slowly twisted the throttle. The Jet Ski moved off, its nose riding up as he accelerated out onto the open water. White spray began to curve up from either side, like ragged swan’s wings unfurling around him.

The Jet Ski lake was divided into two sections by a long spit of marshy land which almost reached right across; there was a small gap at the far end, which was closed off by a band of netting above the water. One half was for the use of caravan and cabin owners who were permanent resort members, while the hire center and day riders used the other section. The trees and bushes growing on the spit were tall enough to block the sections from each other’s view.

Tim was very conscious of the other five Jet Skis on the owner’s section. They were being ridden hard, performing deep plunge stops and near horizontal turns. He watched in envy as one jumped a small ramp over on the far side. Maybe they should have spent some time on lessons with the instructors at the hire center. But where was the fun in that?

He began to test the Jet Ski’s maneuverability, turning sharply, making a figure eight in front of the caravan where the crew were all shouting and waving. It was quite an easy ride. He gunned the throttle more. The Jet Ski ploughed into the wavelets, skimming from top to top with huge bursts of spray. He laughed gleefully as the water lashed at his face. The motion picked up, pounding him up and down energetically.

One of the other riders swished past, giving Tim an encouraging thumbs-up. He began to weave an exhilaratingly chaotic course around the orange buoys that designated the slalom course, steering as close as he dared, determined to loop around as many as he could.

Just as he felt confident enough to twist the throttle even higher he misjudged a turn. With the nose heading straight at a buoy he tried to yank the craft back the other way. And fell off.

He bobbed back up to the surface to see the Jet Ski floating passively a couple of meters away. The jeers coming from the crew back on shore were audible. Tim gave them the finger and swam back to the Jet Ski. Thankfully, the engine fired first time, and he skimmed back to where they were all waiting.

“That was so fantastic,” he yelled at them. “Who’s next?”