‘Yes. I think it’s a brilliant idea. This job isn’t just about administering medication. You’re right that the people we work with need community. We know how much loneliness affects all facets of health and something like this could be exactly what our patients need to help tackle the loneliness they face. This is exactly the kind of creative, proactive idea I love to see from my team. I’m going to adjust your schedule to make sure you have time to get this project off the ground. And when you’re back, I think it’s time we talk about next steps for you and your career. Well done, Phoebe.’
After they’ve made plans for next week and the first mental health wild swimming group meeting, they say goodbye andPhoebe is left reeling. Well, shit. This is actually happening, then. For the first time since she received the phone call from her mum, excitement bubbles up inside of her. Mel is on board with her plan and it even sounds like her longed-for promotion might actually be on the cards. Next, she needs to convince her patients. She can already anticipate that this might be the tricky part.
‘I promise I’ll come back again soon,’ she says to her grandmother as she hugs her goodbye the next day. ‘And I really mean it this time. I’m going to visit much more regularly from now on.’
‘That’s OK, dear, I know how busy you are.’
‘But I want to,’ Phoebe says, leaning forward to kiss her grandmother on the top of her soft white hair. She hugs her mum and brother tightly too.
Her dad drops her at the station and as they say goodbye, he gives her a tight hug.
‘You take care of yourself, love.’
‘I will,’ she promises.
‘Nothing makes me prouder than being a dad to you and Seth,’ he says, his eyes growing teary. ‘And that’s not because of the jobs you do or the things you achieve, but because of who you are. You never forget that.’
As she settles in on the train, Phoebe sends a message to Kate telling her she’s on her way home. Kate has been checking in with her all week and it’s made Phoebe regret having let her other friendships fizzle out over the years. As the countrysiderolls by outside the window, she scrolls back to one of her old WhatsApp groups. What if she were to send a message and resurrect the group? Her hands hover over her phone, thinking about what she might say. But it feels hard to know where to start. Would messaging out of the blue just be really fucking weird? Would they even want to hear from her after all this time?
She closes WhatsApp and instead lets herself open her email for the first time that week. And then she starts composing messages one by one to her patients, beginning with Ben.
Dear Ben,
I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry I’ve been away this week, but my colleague Mel tells me you are doing OK, if still understandably disappointed about the football group.
I have an idea to run past you. I’ve decided to start a new group myself. It’s not football, I’m afraid. I might have learnt a lot from watchingMatch of the Daywith you, but you are still very much the football expert, not me. This new group will bring together other people I work with, just like your football club did, but this time doing something that I love, that’s helped me through a tough time. The first meet up of the Mental Health Wild Swimming Group will take place at Farleigh-on-Avon on Monday, at 10 a.m. Map attached. I’d love it if you’d consider giving it a go.
The countryside changes outside as the train crosses through Cornwall and up to Devon. Phoebe sends message after message about the new swimming group. So far, none of her patients have replied. But she keeps sending them anyway.
When Phoebe finally steps off the train at her stop, she nearly drops her bags in surprise, seeing not just one familiar face waiting for her, but four. Kate, Sandra, Jazz and Hester are gathered on the platform, waving at her and smiling. They are all dressed in boiler suits – Kate’s yellow, Sandra’s red, Jazz’s pink and Hester’s indigo denim.
‘What are you guys doing here?’ she asks after hugging them each in turn. ‘And what are you wearing?! You look like a girl band.’
‘Sandra was the one who suggested the outfits,’ says Jazz. ‘We weren’t up for it at first. But then we chatted and worked out that we all own at least one boiler suit, so we thought, why the fuck not?’
‘You look bloody ridiculous,’ Phoebe laughs. ‘Butawesometoo. I still don’t totally get it, though.’
‘We’re superheroes.Obviously,’ says Hester.
Jazz strikes a pose, hands on hips. ‘Wild swimmers to the rescue!’
‘Kate told us you’d been having a tough time,’ explains Sandra, looping her arm over Phoebe’s shoulder. She glances at Kate for confirmation, but she just shrugs her shoulders lightly. ‘You spend your whole life looking after other people,’ she continues, as if having a group of new friends turn up torescue you in matching outfits is a totally normal thing to happen. ‘It’s our turn to do something for you.’
Phoebe blinks rapidly. She’s already done enough bloody crying this week. But they’re not making it easy for her … She sniffs and tries to subtly wipe her face with her sleeve.
‘This is only part one of the plan,’ says Kate. ‘Come on …’
They travel back to Farleigh-on-Avon from the station, Kate driving, and when she pulls up onto the high street, the sight of Giuglia’s makes Phoebe’s palms grow clammy. She hasn’t seen Luca since their almost-encounter in the deli, but she knows she can’t put off running into him forever, not when they are neighbours and when he serves the best coffee in the village.
As she gets out of the car, she notices a pick-up truck parked on the pavement near the deli. To her surprise, Kate and the others head straight to the truck, Sandra jangling a set of keys in her hand.
‘Is this your truck, Sandra?’
‘What, do you think I don’t look like a pick-up truck sort of person?’ She puts her hands on her hips in mock outrage.
‘I said the same thing,’ says Jazz. ‘I had her down as a Fiat 500 kind of woman myself.’
‘A relic from my second marriage,’ Sandra explains. ‘It was one of his most treasured possessions. He ran off with one of my bridesmaids. I delight in driving the truck past their house every now and then, blaring feminist anthems. It’s really quite useful too. It did the trick today perfectly. Right, shall we unload?’
