‘Screw you,’ Kyle said, as the pair followed James down a curved path running between the accommodation huts and the main pool. ‘Just because I haven’t spent the last year bumming around on some beach in Thailand.’

‘Bumming around!’ Bruce snorted. ‘Six hours’ training four days a week, plus I was teaching Muay Thai classes.’

Lauren was waiting for them. Sat on a low wall, in pool shoes and a Lycra one-piece. She had a decent tan for someone with a pale complexion. Her shoulders and arms were ripped, because motor sport puts massive strain on the neck.

‘I see a dividing line,’ Bruce told Lauren, as she stood up. ‘Those who respect their bodies, and those who gave up.’

Lauren smirked when she saw Kyle. ‘You’re actually chubbier than James.’

‘Hey!’ James yelled. ‘Mission controllers have to train. I’m not that unfit.’

‘I hate all of you,’ Kyle noted, as they rounded a line of trees and reached the edge of the pool.

‘Aww crap,’ James said, as soon as he saw what was about to happen. ‘I hate this game.’

The Olympic-size pool had been set up with a hundred coloured balls floating on the surface. A dumpster at either end would serve as a goal.

‘You’re two minutes late,’ Capstick said, glancing at his huge plastic diver’s watch. ‘Do that again and I’ll give you push-ups. Red balls are worth one point, yellow three, blue five and green ten. You’re only allowed to carry one ball at a time. Barging is allowed, but no holding, no hitting and instant disqualification if you hold anyone’s head under the water. Each round lasts twenty minutes, or until all the balls are cleared. The first team to win three rounds wins the match. The losing team has to run the twelve-kilometre circuit of the island before they get dinner.’

‘There’s five of them and four of us,’ Lauren pointed out. ‘That’s not fair.’

Capstick scoffed. ‘Blame your brother for his slack recruiting skills. Fair is for fairy tales. Now get to your end of the pool.’

The four Crustys and five Currents lined up, fifty metres apart at opposite ends of the pool. A training assistant with his legs dangling over the end of a high board blew a whistle and everyone dived in.

Although wind and currents had blown the balls around, most were clumped in the middle of the pool, close to where they’d been released. Everyone wanted the ten-point green balls first. Bruce and Ning were the fastest swimmers on their teams and each scooped a green.

Alfie tried using his bulk to stop Bruce, but Lauren was close behind. Bruce flipped the ball across, giving her a simple shot into the mouth of the blue dumpster.

‘Ten nil,’ Bruce shouted, as he quickly grabbed a three-point yellow and flung it at Lauren as Alfie locked arms around his waist.

‘Holding!’ Bruce protested.