‘Don’t panic. DON’T PANIC.’
Patsy struggled to keep her head above water. A wave of anger at her stupidity flowed with the waves washing over her head, pushing her under. The shore looked so far away yet was just a decent wave away. Gulping air and sea water, Patsy let herself sink then kicked against the bottom, praying it would propel her forward. It did but not far enough. She tried again, knowing that she didn’t have much more in her. Kicking, pushing and throwing up choking sea water, she finally crawled out onto the sand. Grateful, terrified and exhausted.
‘Are you ok?’ a deep voice and some hairy feet in her line of vision asked. He leant down to lift her and she let him. Using the back of her hand, she wiped sand and tears off her face, hoping that he was ugly as she must look a sight. Olive green eyes stared in hers and she felt her knees buckle.
‘Oh, I must be weaker than I thought.’
Lifting her easily into his arms, he walked away from the waves and tenderly put her onto a fluffy blue blanket. She resisted the urge to fondle his curly chest hair.
‘Is she hurt?’ a decidedly feminine voice said, making Patsy come back to reality.
‘Thanks I’m fine now, thanks…’ she almost ran away from them feeling embarrassed. She wouldn’t be impressed if her boyfriend rescued a spluttering bikini-clad poor swimmer from the ocean.
‘Hi’. Turning she realised he had followed her and her knees gave warning again.
‘Would you like to join us? My mother and I have far too much food?’ his eyes twinkled and Patsy found herself nodding. She didn’t trust her voice.
The spent the afternoon eating cold chicken and spongy rolls, sipping down ice cold cocktails. It was amazing.
Being washed out has its advantages, she sighed.