Free The House on Flamingo Cay by Anne Weale

she was doing her best to keep in a sort of sitting position with the curved tips of her skis breaking the surface in front of her and pointing slightly inwards.
    “Good! Now, knees together, remember, and off we go!”
    In spite of her prowess at swimming, Sara could not help feeling a slight tremor of apprehension as the boat began to move away and the boy paid out their lines. Her fingers clenched round the bar and her toes dug into the ski-shoes as she braced herself for the take-off. And then, so suddenly that she gave an involuntary yelp, the line snapped taut, the speedboat roared away and she found herself hurtling forward in a blinding cascade of foam.
    Afterwards, Peter told her she had looked so comically astounded at finding herself actually riding the water that he had almost lost his own footing through laughing at her expression. But, even if he had, Sara would not have noticed. Once safely upright on her skis, she was aware of nothing but the sheer physical excitement of racing over the sea on wings of glittering spray. It was the most exhilarating experience of her life: the salt wind tangling her hair, the spindrift tossing in the sunlight, and the skis crackling beneath her as they cut through the churning wake of the powerful speedboat.
    “Well? Did you enjoy it?” Peter asked, at the end of that first run when the boat had finally slowed and they were treading water together.
    Sara shook her head in a gesture of wordless pleasure. Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, Peter—it was wonderful! I could have gone on for ever!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “And it’s so much easier than it looks, too!”
    He laughed. “Good! I thought you would like it. Come on, let’s try again.”
    After several more runs, Sara was sufficiently confident to try following Peter’s demonstration of how to ride out across the speedboat’s wake. This was even more exciting as, once across the heaving billow of water to the boat’s quarter, her speed suddenly accelerated.
    The morning seemed to pass very quickly and she felt a pang of disappointment when, after her first attempt at holding the bar with one hand and using the other arm for extra balance, Peter discovered that it had gone noon and was time to return to the hotel.
    “Oh dear, is it really?” she said regretfully. “Still, I’ve had a lovely time, Peter. Thank you very much.”
    He helped her back into the boat. “It’s been a pleasure for me. You have a natural flair, you know. Your sense of balance is excellent and you aren’t afraid of capsizing like so many people. With a little more practice, you’ll be ready to try some aquabatics.”
    Sara flushed with pleasure at his praise. “Do you think so? I’d certainly like to try them,” she said eagerly.
    “It is a pity you are not free this afternoon. My pupils have cancelled their lesson and we could have started a little jumping,” he said regretfully.
    “I am free, as it happens,” Sara said carefully.
    “You are not going to the forest with Rand?”
    She shook her head. “There was a change of plan,” she said lightly. Then, to steer away from that subject: “But I can’t let you teach me for nothing, Peter. It wouldn’t be right.”
    “But certainly I will teach you for nothing,” he said firmly. “One does not make a fee for one’s friends, and I shall enjoy it. Now, you are ready for another run?”
    Soon it was one o’clock.
    “If I had known you could stay, I would have brought a lunch basket,” Peter said. “But perhaps it is better that we go to my bungalow for lunch. There we can rest in the garden for a little while and you will not get too sunburnt.”
    His bungalow was one of the many little white holiday villas dotted along the coastline, and as they walked up the beach to his garden, Sara knew that her sister would be horrified if she could see her. Perhaps, in London, she would also have been rather doubtful about lunching alone with a man