Deep Blue Sea by Tasmina Perry Page A

was Liam, and she knew immediately why he was calling.
    ‘Hey, it’s me. Are you on your way?’
    ‘Shit,’she muttered,grabbing her purse and sprinting for the door. ‘Yeah, I’m almost there,’ she lied.
    ‘Rachel, you’ve already missed the first interview.’
    ‘Sorry, something came up. Hold the fort for me, be there in two ticks.’
    She ran out of her first-floor apartment, down the stairs and on to the street. She glanced at her moped: too risky. Besides, the bar was only five minutes away from her flat, three if she really legged it.
    Bloody Liam , she thought, as her flip-flops slapped against the cracked concrete of the path. Why did he have to arrange the interviews for today?
    Of course he had arranged them because Rachel had asked him to, because she wanted to expand the business, take on more staff.
    She could feel the beer swirling around her stomach like washing-machine water as she ran the last hundred metres, dodging the holes in the road and the open drains, the stray dogs and the tourists ambling through the warren of alleyways.
    Please God, don’t let me puke on the new instructor , she thought as she finally reached the bar and tried to catch her breath. At least Liam had chosen the venue well. Harry’s Bar was away from the main drag, sandwiched between a laundry and an internet café, discreet, hidden, with just a small blue neon sign and a Tiger Beer advertisement to announce itself. It was unlikely anyone would spot them there; wouldn’t do for the competition to know that they were planning to step up their business. She spotted Liam at a far table, laughing with a blonde. Not just blonde. Attractive and blonde, with a pink-cheeked, girl-next-door beauty that put Rachel immediately on edge.
    Liam spotted her and waved her over.
    ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said as she took a seat next to him.
    ‘No problem,’ said Liam, a little tight-lipped. ‘This is Sheryl.’
    Rachel stretched across the table and shook her hand.
    ‘We haven’t met, have we?’ she asked.
    Sheryl smiled. Perfect teeth. Rachel suddenly needed another drink and signalled to Jin, the waitress, for a beer. She didn’t look at Liam, knowing that he’d disapprove.
    ‘No, I’ve only been in Ko Tao two weeks,’ replied Sheryl. That would explain why she and Rachel hadn’t bumped into each other before on this small, intimate island.
    ‘Where were you previously?’
    ‘Port Douglas, I’ve got three years’ experience at one of the top diving schools on the reef. I got my master instructor certificate last year,’ she added in her lilting Australian accent.
    Rachel was impressed but didn’t want to show it.
    ‘So what were you doing before you got into diving?’
    ‘I worked in marketing.’
    Rachel nodded in recognition. When she had first arrived in Thailand, she had thought she would be an oddity out here. After all, she was thirty, making her at least ten years older than the gap-year students who came for the full-moon parties. But she had been surprised to find the place full of people like her: girls who had swapped BlackBerrys for backpacks and were trying to find another way to live.
    ‘So how many dives have you logged?’ she asked, not waiting for Liam to chip in. This was what she was good at. Interviewing people. Asking questions. Finding the cracks . . .
    ‘Well over a thousand. I’ve been diving since I was ten.’
    ‘What about night-diving?’
    The Australian nodded. ‘It’s all in my CV: wrecks, inland waters, even did a few cenotes out in Mexico last year.’
    The waitress arrived with a beer and Rachel put the bottle to her lips. ‘So how would you deal with a particularly difficult customer? I mean, say you’re already out at sea and he starts kicking off?’
    ‘I’d be polite, I guess,’ said Sheryl. ‘But if he started to be dangerous, I have a brown belt in aikido, so I guess I’d be able to handle it.’
    Rachel turned to her colleague. ‘What did you put on the