It was early, earlier than usual – a full fifteen minutes before her alarm – and yet she was wide awake. With her bag packed ready for her swim, she trod the stairs and paused before she left, stopping atthe sofa that faced the television to kiss her nan on the back of her head. The old woman reached up and patted her hand.
‘Off on your swim, love?’ The old woman’s voice carried the croak of one who had been silent for many hours.
‘Yep.’ Tawrie spoke softly, as she pulled the blanket up over Freda’s shoulders and left her to doze. The shopping channel was on with the sound muted. A girl with bouncy blonde hair was holding up a curling wand, eyes wide, like it was a gold bar she’d found, running her fingers over it as if it were a very precious thing.
As with any chore when her mood was joyous, her bike felt light as she lifted it down the steps and clambered on. Her trusty duffel bag she slung across her body. The town had a life of its own at this time of the morning: fishermen and day-boat skippers alike trundled towards the harbour with bags, boots and packed lunches in their hands. Council gardeners drove slowly in their vans, stopping at the various hanging baskets, tubs of flowers and planted verges to water the blooms and ensure another bright and beautiful day for all who intended to spend time in the seaside town. It felt like a privilege to be in the streets as they came alive, to see traders unlock doors, turn signs from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, and shake off the previous day’s fatigue, preparing to do it all again.
Her ride was easy, not a bump in the road or slow-moving tractor hampered her journey to Hele Bay Beach. She arrived just as the sun broke free of the horizon. It seemed particularly beautiful today. Her spirit was light, her hopes high and her routine now slick. She had a spot to leave her belongings and a preferred path down to the water’s edge; both made for a speedy entry into the green-blue sea. Quickly she stowed her bike on its side, impatiently yanked off her trackie bottoms and dry robe and slipped into her half wetsuit, perfect for the warmer water at this time of year.
Raising her hand in a wave, she greeted two-thirds of the Peacock Swimmers, who were already in the sea. Jago and Maudiepulled through the water like a couple of selkies with their pink inflatable floats tied to their backs. She liked to tease Jago about his pace, pointing out how she could go twice as fast when they swam alongside each other. He liked to remind her that at eighty-six, that was his prerogative. There was something comforting about the sight of them each morning, nice to know they were expecting her, looking out for her, this couple who had welcomed her into their routine, and into their lives, with open arms.
With her clothes and bag in a neat bundle, dry robe ready to put on the moment she needed it, and positioned just so, she almost ran to the shoreline. Gone was the hesitation of those early days, as she waded purposefully into the foam-edged waves, and breathed deeply as her shoulders dipped beneath the surface. It would have been a hard thing to fully explain, but that first second of immersion was like a note of heavenly music, a beam of perfect light, a singular feeling of contentment, leaving her feeling happy, clean, clear and energised for whatever the day might hold!
For those unfamiliar with the bay, it might have seemed daunting, compared to the neat, tight boundaries of a public swimming pool or lido, which not only hemmed you in, but kept you from venturing beyond its tiled walls. But so accustomed was she to the placement of the rocks, the cut of the cliffs, the slope of the sand and the dips and troughs of the seabed that it fuelled her confidence. The idea that she could, in theory, swim and swim until she hit land, was exhilarating. Or even better, the thought of swimming and swimming, and changing course until she hit Lundy ... now that really would be something. If only she weren’t so fearful of making the trip.
She chose a familiar route and pulled her arms through the water, always starting with the breaststroke while she let her body acclimatise before switching to front crawl.
‘Here I am and what a morning it is! What to tell you, how to tell you!’ She smiled, softly whispering the words to her dad that felt too personal to voice out loud. ‘It’s a weird thing that even I’m finding hard to fully fathom. It feels like a big thing but is actually nothing. And so if it’s nothing, how come it feels so strongly like something? I’m waffling, I know. So here it is: yesterday, I saw a man. That’s it! I wish I had more! No interaction, no conversation, just plenty of attraction – from my perspective anyway. I don’t even know if he saw me. There was something about him ... I can’t shake the image of him in my head. He’s stuck there, not that I’m complaining. So that’s it! As I said, a big something that’s actually nothing, but everything has to start somewhere, right?’
Moving now with purpose, her breathing and movement were in sync as the sounds of the ocean calmed her and she crawled against the motion of the tide. Having swum for no more than twenty minutes, slowing as her session came to an end, taking her time to tread water, to lie on her back and stare up at the big sky, she bobbed on the salty waves and let the sun glance her face with its morning kiss. With her mood buoyant and excitement fizzing in her stomach, she enjoyed the feeling of strength from another swim completed as she made her way to the shallows.
‘Oh, I see, another half session for our youngest peacock!’ Maudie yelled.
‘Some of us have to get to work!’ She laughed her reply.
‘My heart breaks for you.’ Maudie flipped on to her back. ‘I don’t miss it, living to the beat of the ticking clock. I can highly recommend retirement.’
‘Doubt I’ll ever retire, not with the state of my finances.’ Her humour cloaked this dire truth and not for the first time she pictured herself on a ward, in a uniform, just as she had when she was young, and had felt like anything was possible. If life had taught her one thing, it was that it never turned out quite how you mightthink. She could never have foreseen, at that young age, events so catastrophic that she would find herself acting as human glue to keep the Gunn family from falling apart. She wondered what plans her dad might have had.
‘She’s fibbing, Tawrie, just ignore her,’ Jago piped up. ‘She’d go back to her job in a second! Wouldn’t you, love?’
‘Maybe.’ Maudie stared up towards the sky as if in thought and Tawrie wondered if ‘maybe’ meant she might like to return to those younger days if not the job itself. She knew she’d worked as an administrator for a family optician for decades.
‘We’ll be out in a bit.’ Jago surged forward and continued with his swim, leaving his wife to bob like a seal on a rock as the day grew livelier around them.
Tawrie left the water and trod the slight incline towards the spot where her bike and dry robe awaited. She unzipped her wetsuit and let the top half fall down to her hips, to reveal her swimsuit; she tousled her thick hair with her fingertips, rather liking the way the slightly damp ends curled up under their spritz of salt water. Tipping her head to the left and then right, she did her best to rid her ears of water. Facing the sea, she revelled in the feeling of achievement, enjoying the shiver on her skin as she looked at the vast body of water that from this point looked quite foreboding. She thought of the conversation she’d had with her nan when she first started, and it made her smile.
‘Where are you going to swim to, anyway?’
‘Lundy. I’m going to go all the way out to Lundy.’
That her nan hadn’t questioned it was endearing, but it was typical; Freda adored her, never underestimated her and had always done her best to increase her granddaughter’s self-belief. It also wasn’t lost on Tawrie that she kept her close, as if believing she could prevent further heartache by keeping her within sight.
Ensconced now in her dry robe, she slipped her wetsuit out from beneath her and pulled down her costume, kicking it into the cosy nest on which she now stood, and with her knickers and sweatpants in her hand, she took another few seconds to stare at the ocean.
‘I still wonder where you are ...’ she whispered, letting her words drift out across the big blue on the gentle breeze.
‘Have you been in?’
She jumped. The voice was unexpected, loud, energised, excited, and took her entirely by surprise, but it wasn’t even close to the shock she got when she turned her head and there he was. P-p-pink shirt man, standing near her bike and fixing her with a grin.
The words caught in her throat, as her brain scrabbled to find a response. Her face and chest flushed hot; she had, after all, been talking about him mere minutes ago. The possibility of him overhearing was non-existent, but no less mortifying in the imagining. He was wearing a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops and his hair stood up as if he’d gone out without washing it or looking in a mirror. Not that she cared. To be this close to him, to see him again, to have the opportunity to stand face to face with the man who had kept her from sleep; it felt like fate, it felt like an opportunity, it felt bloody marvellous!
Tawrie had never been vain, but in that second she was aware that her hair was a mess, she was doused in salt water and swamped in a dry robe that could do with a wash. She wished her cossie and wetsuit weren’t bunched beneath her wrinkled feet and that she wasn’t holding her knickers and sweatpants in her hand.
‘Been in, yes, yes I’ve been in,’ she babbled, pointing at the sea, wishing she were calmer, and that she had her underwear on.
‘Is it cold?’
