Nailed It!

by Mel Campbell

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Rose said. ‘I suspect whatever happens, it’s going to make the news.’

  Old Steve hadn’t been much help. According to him the coast was littered with shipwrecks, and there was nothing to stop the producers taking a dinghy out and sinking it to make one of their own. But she was more than welcome to come visit if she wanted to. She said she’d drop by in the afternoon, then went back to checking various online maps. There were simply too many beaches, surf spots and lookouts within a ninety-minute drive for her to go and check them all. She’d just have to hope Mansions was filming somewhere obvious, and that she could get there in time.

  Maybe Dave had somehow overcome his fear of the water? Maybe it’d be all okay even if she didn’t make it in time? But she knew in her heart that he was only doing this because he had something to prove. Yeah, that he’s an idiot, she thought, and instantly regretted it. He wasn’t an idiot: he was a good guy who wanted to make up for his past mistakes and show the world he’d changed. And if he wasn’t going the best way about it, for most people the best way wasn’t always available.

  Look at her: in a perfect world her parents wouldn’t be struggling, and she wouldn’t have needed to take a job with Old Steve. But if she hadn’t been working for Old Steve, she never would have met Young Steve at Gruntings and started working on television. And if she hadn’t been working on television, she wouldn’t have met Dave. While she didn’t want to say Dave was the best thing that had ever happened to her or anything, he did seem pretty special and she was really, really looking forward to having a chance for them to get to know each other away from cameras and outside of portaloos.

  So maybe all this was somehow for the best. Maybe this drama was what Dave needed to get it out of his system, and when he returned to dry land he’d be over his past and be able to face the world a new man, free of baggage and fear.

  Or maybe he’d just drown.

  Rose didn’t sleep at all that night.

  Rose turned up at Old Steve’s around lunchtime. It was a bit early, and chilly down the coast even with a jumper on, but she half hoped Old Steve would have some new suggestions for sites they could check out. And she wanted to make sure the television reception was okay and wouldn’t cut out five minutes before the show went to air.

  Old Steve’s beach house was nothing fancy, and it was totally possible the rumours that he’d built it himself were true. The weatherboards were well-painted and not warped, the floor was level, and while the house itself was small – the second bedroom was a set of bunk beds in a room that was really a short hallway between the kitchen and the toilet – there was also a massive prefabricated shed out the back. The door was securely locked; whatever secrets Old Steve had in there, he did not want anyone finding out.

  ‘Oh, that’s just my collection of historical relics,’ he said when Rose asked. ‘Souvenirs from building sites and so on.’ He didn’t go on.

  It turned out the television reception was good, and Old Steve had decent internet as a backup; what he didn’t have was any ideas about where Mansions might be filming, so all they could do was sit and wait.

  Old Steve saw this as the perfect opportunity to talk about his many, many achievements (or, as he tried to call them, his ‘a-Steve-ments’), which became more and more unlikely as the afternoon wore on. Not that Rose was paying much attention. As they sat in Steve’s cluttered lounge, her gaze kept flicking from the television to the window that looked out on the beach to her phone and back again. All three remained blank.

  At around five she managed to persuade Steve to turn the television on, just in case the network ran a live promo that gave anything away. Once Steve had that to distract him, she checked the fan forums on her phone. They’d figured out the location of ‘Crashington Speedway’ – not exactly a challenge, with only three speedways in the area – but everywhere else was still a mystery.

  She didn’t even have any photos of Dave to look at. All she had were the screenshots Nicola had sent her weeks ago, covered in love hearts and glowing arrows pointing at his bum. She’d never even thought to take any photos of him on the Mansions set; it had seemed a bit redundant with all the cameras around. But now she didn’t have any memento of him that was truly hers. If he doesn’t drown tonight I’m going to take a photo of him every single day we’re together, she promised herself. Even if I have to take screengrabs from episodes of Mansions to do it.

  The first break Rose got came with the nightly news, which promised a live cross to the Mansions challenge sites. ‘Knowing my luck they’ll skip Dave,’ Rose muttered.

  ‘But his is the best one,’ said Steve. ‘Who wants to see a girl going around picking up broken glass from a race track?’

  ‘Let’s just hope the newsroom agrees.’

  Rose should have been used to the way television worked. You announce your big drawcard up front, tease it as ‘coming up next’ just before every commercial break, and hold off showing it for as long as possible. But in her state, the delaying tactics just made the tension unbearable; she’d snapped two chopsticks she’d picked up off the floor before Steve gave her a cast-iron model of a fighter jet to play with, and she was pretty sure she’d bent one of the wings by the time the news finally cut to the first of the challenge locations.

  It was Dave.

  ‘Thank fuck,’ Rose gasped.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to collecting some authentic shipwreck timber for our benchtop,’ Dave told a reporter. His voice was wavering, which could have been because he was standing on a pier in a wetsuit on a windy day. Or it could have been because he was terrified of what he was about to do. Rose knew which one she thought was more likely.

  ‘I know where that is,’ Old Steve said casually. ‘It’s the fishing pier down past Peretti Point. They must be diving on the wreck of the Common Decency.’

  ‘Is it deep down?’

  ‘Not especially, but it’s definitely under the water.’ He shook his head. ‘Common Decency’s been gone a long time.’

  ‘That’s enough social commentary,’ Rose said, getting to her feet. ‘Is it far?’

  Well, it’s a bit of a drive.’

  ‘Then I’d better get going,’ Rose said, heading for the door. ‘You don’t want to come?’

  ‘You don’t need me slowing you down,’ Old Steve said, letting out a cough. ‘Let me know how you go.’

  ‘You’ll probably see it if you keep the television on,’ Rose said as she flew out the door.

  Settling in behind the wheel of her ute, already gunning the engine, she checked her phone. According to the map, Peretti Point was maybe half an hour’s drive away. She turned around and started backing out onto the main road.

  She was pretty sure she could get there quicker than that.

  The roads weren’t busy on a Sunday afternoon, and what traffic Rose saw was mostly heading away from the beaches. So she floored it, the ute roaring down the winding roads, the sand dunes and scrub whizzing past on either side. Those couple of weeks driving the long curved streets of Ocean Springs really helped when it came to racing along the roads that ran along the coastline, and she made record time.

  ‘Phone,’ she said as she drove, ‘call Nicola.’

  ‘Hey,’ Nicola said, ‘the live-stream’s just started. Where are you?’

  ‘Driving to Peretti Point. Old Steve recognised the dive site – supposedly it’s a fishing pier just near there.’

  ‘Good work, Old Steve.’

  She swerved to overtake a slowpoke station wagon. ‘Have they shown Dave yet?’

  ‘Just in a montage bit at the start. Len’s still introducing the setup.’

  ‘If Dave’s on first it could be a bit tricky,’ Rose said. ‘Fingers crossed.’

  ‘They’ve cut to an ad break already,’ Nicola groaned. ‘Man, commercial television sucks.’

  ‘That’s g
ood! Anything that delays things is what we want!’

  ‘Go consumerism! I feel like gambling! And also saddling my children with a hefty debt to pay for my funeral.’

  ‘Every ad takes me thirty seconds closer to saving Dave,’ Rose said, as much to herself as to Nicola.

  ‘Crap,’ Nicola said abruptly. ‘I think they’re starting with Dave.’

  ‘I’m still at least ten minutes away,’ Rose said. ‘Tell me he’s not in the water yet.’

  ‘No, they’re just talking to him, but he’s on the pier and he’s got a wetsuit and weight belt on.’

  ‘Shit.’ The curves she was racing down were getting tighter, the road narrower. Peretti Point was a surf beach with nothing but sand dunes and tangled scrub around it, and the fishing pier was on the other side of that. It would only take one ancient Kombi van laden with surfboards to pull out in front of her to slow her right down. She couldn’t cross her fingers and drive at this speed, so she muttered a prayer under her breath and kept going as fast as she dared.

  ‘Another commercial break,’ Nicola said, ‘I think when they come back he’s going in.’

  ‘Tell them to stop him!’ Rose shouted, taking a corner way too fast. She was coming up on the turnoff to Peretti Point, and according to the map the turnoff after that would lead to the pier. She couldn’t be more than minutes away. If they just dragged things out a little longer she’d make it.

  She passed the turnoff. The road tilted up, following a slight rise that hid the pier from sight. What if Old Steve was wrong? she suddenly thought. What if I get over the top and there’s nobody there?

  She crested the hill. Down below was the pier. There were a number of vans and cars clustered in the car park a short distance away, and she could see people with cameras standing at the end of the pier. She could also see a man in a wetsuit and goggles, standing with them at the pier’s edge. She wasn’t too late.

  And then, as she hurtled down the hill, Dave did a backflip and silently splashed into the sea.

  ‘He’s gone in!’ Nicola yelled. ‘He just flipped over the edge.’

  ‘I’m here,’ Rose said, ‘I just saw it.’

  The ute skidded more than once as she raced down towards the car park, wheels losing traction on the sand that had drifted across the road. Briefly the thought crossed her mind that maybe she should drive onto the pier itself, but as it rapidly came closer it was clear that it was a shaky wooden structure that she’d be more likely to drive through than onto. And now that she was here, suddenly it was clear that she had no idea what to do next. Run onto the pier, obviously. But if Dave was fine, what then?

  She came to a screeching halt in the only car park left and leapt out, barely remembering to lock the door behind her. She was halfway to the pier when she realised she’d left her phone behind, but that didn’t matter. Some of the crew had spotted her pulling up and a woman was walking down the pier to meet her. It was Steph the colour producer, a smirk on her face and a beanie on her head.

  ‘Rose,’ Steph said. ‘I can’t say I was expecting to see you here. Or anywhere near Mansions in the Sky ever again.’

  ‘You know Dave can’t swim, right?’ Rose brushed past her and stepped onto the pier.

  ‘Of course he can swim,’ Steph said, hurrying after her. ‘Who can’t swim?’

  Rose strode down the narrow wooden structure. It was a lot shorter than it had looked from the shore, and Rose had to watch her step to avoid stumbling over the trash fishermen had left behind. She nearly tripped over an esky that someone had filled with rocks.

  ‘You need to get him out of the water, right now.’

  ‘We’ll do no such thing,’ Steph said.

  Rose stepped over a hole in the planking with a pile of boards stacked neatly beside it for future repairs. ‘What part of “he can’t swim” didn’t you understand?’

  ‘He told us he could swim, he was happy to get in the wetsuit, and the wreck is only, what – ’ she turned to a crewman, who shrugged, ‘– maybe six metres down? He’ll be fine.’

  Rose looked down at the ocean. It was windy out here, and there was a steady swell, the surface a greasy grey capped with flecks of white. ‘He hasn’t come up.’

  ‘There he is,’ one of the crew said, pointing further out.

  Dave had broken the surface but was clearly struggling. He had a chunk of wood with him, a thick rib of timber about a metre long. Unsurprisingly – to Rose, at least – it didn’t float after however many decades under the sea, and Dave was swinging it feebly around his head, trying to push it out of the water. It was too heavy. It was clearly weighing him down.

  ‘Drop the wood!’ Rose yelled.

  He didn’t hear her. He had one arm around the wood, the other now waving about as the waves battered him.

  ‘Go in,’ Steph said quietly. Beside Rose, a man in a wetsuit appeared and dived smoothly into the water. Steph looked to Rose and smiled. ‘You don’t think we weren’t prepared for this?’

  Rose watched the diver swim smoothly over to the struggling Dave, then promptly get whacked in the head by the chunk of wood Dave was waving about. The diver tried again to get close to Dave, who was thrashing about and refusing to let go of the prize he’d brought up from the bottom. The diver lunged for Dave, just as Dave swung the timber in a long arc. The lump of wood connected audibly once more with the diver’s head.

  ‘Fuck this!’ the diver roared, turning around and heading back to the pier. As he climbed the ladder, Rose could see a thin stream of blood trickling down from his temple. ‘I’m not saving that maniac from himself,’ he told Steph. ‘You reality TV people are fucked.’

  ‘Got a plan B?’ Rose said.

  Steph shook her head.

  ‘Good thing I’ve been in this situation before, then,’ Rose said, hurrying back to where the planks were stacked. She grabbed a couple then rushed back to the end of the pier. She dropped them at her feet, them pulled off her jumper. Quickly she used it to tie the planks together in a cross shape, then yelled as loudly as she could. ‘Dave! Grab on to this!’

  If it worked for that dog, hopefully it’ll work for Dave, she thought, and threw the crude flotation device out towards him. It spun through the air and landed right next to him.

  ‘Great throw,’ one of the crew shouted.

  It would have been simple for Dave to reach out and grab it, keeping him afloat. Only there wasn’t any Dave; he’d sunk below the surface.

  ‘No!’ Rose cried.

  After some harsh words from Steph, the rescue diver leapt back off the pier. He swam out and ducked beneath the surface to check for Dave, but rapidly came back up empty-handed. ‘He’s sinking too fast,’ he shouted. ‘He won’t let go of that wood.’

  Rose turned and hurried down the pier. Finding the esky full of rocks she’d almost tripped over, she picked it up and lugged it back down to the pier’s end. Without a word she kicked off her boots, picked up the esky, and jumped off into the ocean.

  With its weight in her arms she sank straight to the sea floor. It was a long shot – if she didn’t find Dave before she had to surface, she wouldn’t have time for a second try. The visibility wasn’t great, but she knew which direction he was in, and that wood he was hanging on to would stop him from drifting away.

  She hooked the esky handle over her elbow and swam forward, using it as ballast in the churning water. She’d come all this way. She wasn’t going to let him drown now.

  At first she thought she was seeing part of the wreck. But another strong stroke with her free arm propelled her forward … and no, it was Dave, still holding onto the wood he’d collected. One more stroke and she was on top of him, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from the dead weight. Then she pushed him upwards, and for an instant she thought she didn’t have the energy to follow. But she dropped the esky, kicked her legs and clawed up with her arms, and soon
she was rising of her own accord. When she broke surface the flotation device she’d made was right in front of her, and Dave was hanging onto it.

  A wave picked the device up and almost dumped it on her. Which was lucky, because she wasn’t sure she had the strength to swim to it.

  ‘How?’ Dave gasped. ‘How did you get down to me so fast? I thought it was over when I hit bottom.’

  ‘I just remembered something you once told me,’ she said weakly. ‘That’s how I knew I could get to you.’

  ‘What did I say?’ Dave said. Behind him the rescue diver had swum up, and grabbed the flotation device, getting ready to tow them to shore.

  ‘I was your rock,’ Rose replied. ‘You said I was your rock.’

  The diver towed the pair of them back to the pier. There was a ladder around the other side, and one by one they clawed their way up and collapsed on the decking.

  ‘That was amazing,’ Steph said, putting a towel around Rose. ‘I can’t believe you saved him.’

  ‘He’s definitely worth saving,’ Rose said. She sat down next to Dave, who was definitely looking worse for wear. ‘Don’t do anything like that again,’ she said, putting her arm around him. ‘I don’t want to make a habit of these ocean rescues.’

  ‘But you’re so good at them,’ Steph said. ‘After tonight we could definitely get you a series saving people, pets …’ She rubbed her chin. ‘Yeah, we might struggle for a second episode.’

  ‘Don’t tell me this was on television,’ Rose sighed. ‘Not again.’

  ‘It was amazing,’ Steph said. ‘It couldn’t have gone better if we’d planned it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dave said. ‘This wasn’t what I had planned at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rose said.

  ‘Well,’ Dave said, then coughed up a batch of seawater. ‘Well,’ he said after he recovered, ‘first Michelle said to me there were a bunch of challenges coming up, and we needed a countertop so I should do the one where I’d be collecting driftwood. So I said sure. Then she came back and said sorry, they checked the beach and there’s no driftwood, would I be okay to wade out into the ocean and collect some shipwreck planks at low tide? And I was a bit worried, but I’d already agreed to the challenge and you know, low tide sounded okay. And then she said that they’d checked the tide times and it was now going to be high tide when they had to put the episode to air, but it’d be fine, they’d be watching me the whole time and …’ He looked down. ‘I couldn’t back out.’