The women are all dressed, but all look a little less neat than before, hair wet and bedraggled. Without saying anything, Sandra leads them over towards the Kingfisher Café and Book Barge. Phoebe’s stomach rumbles at the sight of the piles of baked goods displayed in the hatch, a handwritten chalkboard menu propped outside.
The silver-haired man on the boat looks up from a battered paperback and flashes them a smile, his cheeks ruddy. ‘Ahh, good morning, ladies. What will it be today? I’ve got a freshly baked Victoria sponge, which is pretty excellent, if I do say so myself.’
‘Cake,’ says Jazz, turning to Phoebe to answer her earlier question. ‘Recreational Water-Based Activities means cake.’
Phoebe lets out a laugh, Kate joining in. ‘Now, that’s something I can get on board with.’
‘Well, a swim isn’t really a swim unless you have cake afterwards,’ says Sandra. ‘It’s a very important part of our club. In the winter, I’d even say it’sthe mostimportant part. When it’s too cold to swim for very long, at the very least we can sit by the river and enjoy a slice of cake and a hot cup of tea. Thanks to you, dear Hamish.’
The man in the tweed beams at Sandra’s words, his chest puffing up and his already red cheeks growing crimson. ‘Ah, you’re my favourite customers.’
‘You say that to all your customers, Hamish.’
‘It doesn’t mean it’s not true.’
Phoebe glances at her watch.
‘In a rush?’ asks Sandra.
‘Just for work,’ Phoebe replies, surprising herself with her choice of words. When has work ever beenjust workto her? But when she was in the water, she found her mind for once wasn’t on her patients and her endless to-do list. It was impossible not to be in the moment when you were somewhere so beautiful. ‘But, fuck it, I think I have time for a bit of cake first.’
She chooses the Victoria sponge, on Hamish’s recommendation. He passes a huge slab of it across to her on a china plate decorated in a floral pattern. Her tea comes in a matching china cup, but as she and the others head back over to their spot on the grass to eat, it seems that they have all been given a mismatched array of crockery from what appears to be Hamish’s personal collection. Sandra’s bears the face ofPrincess Diana, while Jazz has a more tasteful blue-and white-striped Cornishware mug.
‘What does yours say, Kate?’ she asks, trying to read the words.
Kate turns it around to face her and Phoebe almost spits out her tea.
‘Jesus! I’m not sure that I want to think about Hamish being theWorld’s Best Lover.’ She lowers her voice, not wanting to offend the tweed-clad baker. ‘Although, who knows, maybe it’s actually quite a burden having powers like that.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Sandra replies, taking a dainty bite of a cherry Bakewell. ‘I’ll always remember the night we spent together not long after my divorce. That barge might be cramped, but he’s a man who knows how to make the most of what he’s got.’
Jazz snorts with laughter, spraying cake crumbs.
‘Wow, Sandra,’ chuckles Phoebe. Next to her, Kate covers her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to choke on her cake.
‘Oh, sorry, dear,’ Sandra says, turning to Hester. ‘Cover your ears.’
Hester lets out a sigh. ‘I’m seventeen, not seven.’ But the smile that had appeared as soon as she entered the water is still there.
‘We both decided that we’re better off as friends,’ continues Sandra. ‘And besides, I’m quite happy being single. Two marriages were more than enough for me, thank you very much.’
‘So, you come here every day?’ Kate asks, tactfully changing the subject. The other women nod.
‘Pretty much,’ says Jazz. ‘Do you think you’ll join us again, both of you?’
‘I don’t know if I can manage every day,’ says Kate, biting her bottom lip, a shadow passing across her face. ‘But I’d definitely like to come back.’
‘Me too,’ says Phoebe. ‘As much as possible, even if just for the cake.’
The others laugh and a warmth spreads through Phoebe’s chest that reminds her of the first sip of a gin and tonic. Except hopefully this won’t give her a hangover.
‘Let’s get a quick picture,’ says Jazz, reaching for her phone. They jostle together, smiling.
‘I should probably get going now,’ Phoebe says once she’s finished the Victoria sponge, which really was as good as Hamish promised. ‘It was nice to meet you, Kate, and to see you all again.’
‘It was lovely to have you with us, Phoebe,’ says Sandra.
‘Oh, we should add you to our WhatsApp group,’ says Jazz as Phoebe collects her things, clipping up her motorcycle boots and tucking her helmet under her arm.
