Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding Page B
Authors: Helen Fielding
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until it was almost vertical. Elsie and Edward’s balcony was right on the dividing line: where it had been was now a gash, showing the ship in cross-section like a diagram.
p. 50 She decided to stay where she was. As she watched, the half of the ship which was still horizontal seemed to bend outwards. A wall of hot air hit her once more, as if she’d opened an oven, and there was another boom as the hull burst into a giant fireball. Olivia buried her chin in her chest, feeling the flesh on one hand burning. There was a deafening roar above her. She pulled herself out, relieved to find her legs just about holding up beneath her. She ran for her life, as behind her she heard the boom of the container exploding.
Chapter 9
p. 51 “Y ou all right, ma’am?”
Olivia was crouched, her arms wrapped around her head, against a low building which was shielding her from the docks and the OceansApart. She looked up into the face of a firefighter.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
The traffic had stopped on the highways and bridges. The air was filled with the sound of sirens and helicopters.
He pulled out a water bottle. She took a small mouthful and handed it back.
“Keep it.”
“No, you keep it.” She nodded back towards the ship. “You get out there. I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
She leaned back against the wall and looked down at herself. She was black. The back of her left hand was burnt, although it didn’t seem to hurt at all. She felt her hair gingerly. It was on the crispy side but still there—a miracle the peroxide hadn’t combusted. Her eyes were smarting. There were hunks of torn metal and debris everywhere, and fires burning in dozens of places. It’s absolutely fine, she thought. It’s perfectly simple. I’ll just go into the water and find Edward and Elsie and bring them to shore.
p. 52 Olivia moved round the edge of the building, glancing for a moment out towards the open sea, the yachts in the marina, the blue sky. Then she looked back at the OceansApart and remembered how life can be such different things all at once: it was like switching from a TV holiday program to a disaster movie. The vertical half of the ship was sinking fast, the water boiling around it. The other half had a vast blackened hole in the hull and was listing. Smoke and flames were still billowing from it. Fires were burning all over the channel. The firemen were starting to pour foam on the flames. In between the flames floated debris, the corpses of sharks and barracuda and, Olivia realized, human beings, some of them still alive.
The paramedics had arrived and were setting up a help station. Olivia could see a man in the water close to the shore. Only his head was visible, his mouth wide open. As he looked in panic towards the shore, he went under. Olivia kicked off her trainers, took her sweatpants off and stepped into the water. Hot mud belched up between her toes. The water was hot too and dirty and thick. When she was close to where the man had disappeared, she took a big breath, steeled herself and plunged beneath the surface. She couldn’t see a thing and she groped around in the foul murk for what seemed like an agonizingly long time until she finally felt him. He was barely conscious and he was a big man. She dived down again, put a hand on either side of his waist and pushed him upwards until he broke the surface. Then she let go for a second, burst into the open air beside him and took hold of his head. She held his nose and started rescue breathing, but it was too hard to keep them both buoyant. She turned to the shore and waved, then tried again. He took a huge, rasping breath. She put her arm around his neck as she’d been taught, and started to drag him towards the shore. The paramedics came out to meet her in the shallows and took him from her.
She looked back at the channel. It looked as though more people had been washed from the wreckage. A team of divers had ar
p. 50 She decided to stay where she was. As she watched, the half of the ship which was still horizontal seemed to bend outwards. A wall of hot air hit her once more, as if she’d opened an oven, and there was another boom as the hull burst into a giant fireball. Olivia buried her chin in her chest, feeling the flesh on one hand burning. There was a deafening roar above her. She pulled herself out, relieved to find her legs just about holding up beneath her. She ran for her life, as behind her she heard the boom of the container exploding.
Chapter 9
p. 51 “Y ou all right, ma’am?”
Olivia was crouched, her arms wrapped around her head, against a low building which was shielding her from the docks and the OceansApart. She looked up into the face of a firefighter.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
The traffic had stopped on the highways and bridges. The air was filled with the sound of sirens and helicopters.
He pulled out a water bottle. She took a small mouthful and handed it back.
“Keep it.”
“No, you keep it.” She nodded back towards the ship. “You get out there. I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
She leaned back against the wall and looked down at herself. She was black. The back of her left hand was burnt, although it didn’t seem to hurt at all. She felt her hair gingerly. It was on the crispy side but still there—a miracle the peroxide hadn’t combusted. Her eyes were smarting. There were hunks of torn metal and debris everywhere, and fires burning in dozens of places. It’s absolutely fine, she thought. It’s perfectly simple. I’ll just go into the water and find Edward and Elsie and bring them to shore.
p. 52 Olivia moved round the edge of the building, glancing for a moment out towards the open sea, the yachts in the marina, the blue sky. Then she looked back at the OceansApart and remembered how life can be such different things all at once: it was like switching from a TV holiday program to a disaster movie. The vertical half of the ship was sinking fast, the water boiling around it. The other half had a vast blackened hole in the hull and was listing. Smoke and flames were still billowing from it. Fires were burning all over the channel. The firemen were starting to pour foam on the flames. In between the flames floated debris, the corpses of sharks and barracuda and, Olivia realized, human beings, some of them still alive.
The paramedics had arrived and were setting up a help station. Olivia could see a man in the water close to the shore. Only his head was visible, his mouth wide open. As he looked in panic towards the shore, he went under. Olivia kicked off her trainers, took her sweatpants off and stepped into the water. Hot mud belched up between her toes. The water was hot too and dirty and thick. When she was close to where the man had disappeared, she took a big breath, steeled herself and plunged beneath the surface. She couldn’t see a thing and she groped around in the foul murk for what seemed like an agonizingly long time until she finally felt him. He was barely conscious and he was a big man. She dived down again, put a hand on either side of his waist and pushed him upwards until he broke the surface. Then she let go for a second, burst into the open air beside him and took hold of his head. She held his nose and started rescue breathing, but it was too hard to keep them both buoyant. She turned to the shore and waved, then tried again. He took a huge, rasping breath. She put her arm around his neck as she’d been taught, and started to drag him towards the shore. The paramedics came out to meet her in the shallows and took him from her.
She looked back at the channel. It looked as though more people had been washed from the wreckage. A team of divers had ar
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