James had tried to appear uninterested as they’d splashed about in the turquoise water for a while, but then they’d started diving from the steps that climbed up the side of the little natural harbour. They’d started from fairly low down, but had grown bolder with each attempt until they’d used a ledge some 15 feet up.

James had watched them until he could stand it no longer. He wasn’t going to sit here for the rest of his holiday being ignored by this snooty Italian boy. He’d walked over to join in, but as soon as they’d seen him coming the two boys had stopped what they were doing and lain down on the rocks to dry themselves.

To hell with them.

James had swum over to the steps, being very careful where he put his feet, as the whole area was carpeted with black sea urchins so you could barely see the stone beneath. If you put a foot wrong you’d be stabbed by a thousand black spines filled with poison.

He had reached the ledge the other boys had been using and instantly decided that he would try a little higher. And now he had climbed as high as he could get, and here he was, stupidly risking death to impress these boys.

The steamer had passed through the straits and James watched its wake rippling towards the shore.

It was now or never. The waves created by the ship might just be enough to give him the depth of water he needed to avoid breaking his neck.

He watched as the first swell surged in and broke against the rocks, raising the water level by a good few inches.

OK. There was no time to think; the wake would pass on in a matter of moments, and he would have missed his chance. He’d still have to time his jump exactly, though; if he hit the water between waves it would be disastrous.

He sucked in his breath, tensed, and threw himself out over the water.

Everything happened so quickly he barely had time to think. There was a brief, breathtaking sensation of falling, the air rushing noisily in his ears, and then the sea slammed into him like a solid object, battering the top of his head. He pulled up as sharply as he could, but still got a face full of weeds and his chest scraped the bottom. Then he was bobbing up in a net of silver bubbles, alive and unhurt.

He swam casually back to the shore and got to his feet. The water was just deep enough here to hide his trembling legs and wobbly knees. He knew he mustn’t show anything, but he felt utterly exhilarated; the thrill had been intense.

Mauro stared at him for a moment, then laughed and jumped up. ‘Sei pazzo,’ he said, shaking his head.