Ruth reappears out of the gloom. ‘Enough of this!’ she proclaims. ‘I’m going to catch my death if I stay in any longer.’
With that they plough through the water to the metal ladder. Jo reaches it first and hauls herself, scarlet and shaking, onto the side. As she starts the scurry back to the changing room, Jo can hear the splash of the more hardy swimmers, and the gentle buzz of conversation, broken by the occasional burst of laughter.
So, she may not have Eric or James (and does she really want James, anyway?). But she has Ruth and Malcolm.
And now she has this. There is no doubt she willbe back here soon. And she sends up a silent … she wouldn’t call it a prayer (after all, she is still Average Jo, sitting somewhere in the middle when it comes to God) … but a thought, athank you, to Malcolm’s mother, Eve.
As Ruth pulls herself up the ladder behind her, Jo catches a murmured, ‘God bless you, Eve Buswell.’
28
Do seals have ears?
Ruth has already made friends with the waiters and established that it is okay to borrow the old library books. In fact, they encourage it. So, now she is back at the table (still wearing layers and her coat), with a couple of Agatha Christies.
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take your coat off?’ Malcolm is all concern.
And so he should be; Jo has only just stopped shaking. One of the swimmers, who came into the changing room as they were gathering their things to go, suggested that next time she should bring a hot-water bottle with her. ‘It’s fantastic,’ she said.
‘What? You swim with it?’ Jo asked, and the changing room erupted into laughter. Caught again – she was reminded of Eric.
‘No.’ The young woman grinned. ‘When you’re dressed, you shove it down your bra. Works wonders.’
As Jo shrugs off her coat, Malcolm leans forward to help her. Something spills out from under the neck of his crisp grey and white striped shirt. It is a large turquoise medallion shaped like a sun. He hurriedly tucks it away and turns to Ruth.
‘No, I’ll keep my coat for the time being,thank you, Malcolm,’ Ruth replies. ‘Nice medallion,’ she adds, eyebrows raised.
Malcolm stares for some moments at nothing in particular, and then continues as if he hasn’t heard the last comment. ‘Perhaps I should have suggested you waited for the spring,’ he worries.
Jo peers at the neck of Malcolm’s shirt (medallion now well hidden) and glances down to check his footwear. Still the black Lobb brogues but, as his trouser hem rides up an inch, she spots startlingly orange socks patterned with large daisies.
Ruth has dropped her pretence at annoyance. ‘Nonsense – it was an amazing experience, wasn’t it, Jo?’
‘I’m thinking of going next week,’ Jo tells them.
‘You are?’ Ruth sounds incredulous, then adds, ‘No, no. I can see that it could get quite addictive. How often did your mother swim in the ponds, Malcolm?’
‘Oh, Mother went most days. She said that even when she woke up feeling out of sorts, she knew a dip in the ponds would fix her. She was still swimming well into her eighties.’
‘Did you ever swim with her?’ Jo asks. ‘I mean, when the mixed ponds were open?’
‘No never,’ Malcolm says, briefly, and then repeats the phrase that Jo had wondered about, ‘I am not a brave man.’
Pretty brave socks for a retired tax analyst.
Malcolm hurries on.‘Now, let’s have a look at these menus, and order you two swimmers some food. You certainly deserve it. My treat. Whatever you like, now. No holding back.’
Jo picks up the menu, but from under her lashes she can see Ruth is still studying Malcolm, a speculative look on her face.
‘Hi there, Jo!’
Jo swivels around in her seat to find Lando and a petite, dark-haired woman standing a few feet away. The woman is holding the hand of a dark-haired child who is as neat as Lando (which Jo thinks is pretty amazing for a boy who must be about six). Apart from the hair. His hair looks like he cut it himself. ‘Hi Lando, how are you?’ Jo replies.
‘Good,’ he says, slowly. He appears to be studying the pompom hat that she is still wearing. ‘Jo, this is my wife, Sacha, and our son, Ferdy. Sacha, Jo,’ and the small, elegant woman smiles and holds her hand out to her. ‘Yeah, he did cut it himself,’ she says, laughing, following Jo’s gaze. ‘There is quite a lot of glue in there too. He thought it was gel.’
Jo is grinning at Ferdy, who just stares back at her, seemingly deeply unimpressed.
‘Do all animals have ears?’ Ferdy asks Jo, suddenly.
