‘I’m excited,’ I respond, not wanting to acknowledge that my primary feeling is anxiety. I’m worried I’ll use up my air too fast, which Millie says is the number one way to spot a novice. And I’m worried I won’t find the fish.

‘Me too!’ Andrew hoots. ‘I cannot believe we get to do this – it’s going to be brilliant!’ He fist pumps the air and Pippa cackles.

‘You are so embarrassing,’ she says playfully, rolling her eyes.

But Andrew’s energy is infectious. I can already feel my nerves loosening a bit. ‘This is gonna be fun,’ I agree.

Once Miguel is ready, I walk up to the break in the railing where we’re supposed to take a giant step in. I hear Derek behind me walking Natalie through his camera set-up for the second time.

‘Always keep your eyes on me,’ Miguel instructs, ‘and remember what I taught you.’ He goes through the hand signals. ‘A fist over the head means OK. Use your fingers to communicate your PSI number so we know how much air you have left. And enter the water feet first, none of those flopping in backwards, head-first entries unless the water is completely calm.’

I nod and make the OK sign with my hand. Like I would try to backflip into the water with an oxygen tank strapped to my back. Feet first is good. Feet first is comfortable.

But as soon as I think it, I feel a twinge in my gut. Feet first is comfortable, but I don’t know if comfortable is what I want anymore. Maybe, I think, by the end of the trip I’ll have learned the head-first entry, the one with the backflip.

‘One hand on your mask, another on your regulator,’ Miguel instructs, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Now take a big step, feet first.’

I do as instructed and lift my foot, which is burdened by a massive flipper, up and off the edge of the boat. Slowly and all at once, I step into the water.

Boom. Water rushes into my ears and around my face. I breathe into my regulator, and even though I shouldn’t be, I’m surprised when it works, supplying oxygen even when I’m face down in the water. My BCD is inflated, so I pop right up to the surface and swim away from the side of the boat. I give Miguel the OK sign by bopping my head with my fist. Hugh and Vanessa are bobbing up and down a couple of feet away from me.

‘You good?’ he asks, his tone more perfunctory than caring. His regulator is out of his mouth, so I take mine out to respond.