‘Everyone asks me that.’ She took in his freckled skin, his clear eyes.
‘Of course they do! Because no one other than a fruit loop would consider jumping into the Bristol Channel, it looks bloody freezing!’
She liked his voice. His accent neutral, his tone pleasant, the pace not too fast or too slow, not boorish or sarcastic. He sounded as nice as he looked.
‘Well, I guess I’m a fruit loop because I do it every day from March to September.’
He lifted his arms above his head and exhaled slowly, resting them flat-palmed on the top of his head. Her eyes were drawn to the gap where his t-shirt lifted and she saw the slight roll of a tum over the waistband of his shorts, the dark hair sprouting, his sun-kissed skin. She found it hard to explain her desire to touch him. She gripped her clothes bundle – something, anything to occupy her twitchy, nervous hands.
‘You do it every day without fail? You’re not being serious? You don’t mean like when it’s raining too?’
‘I do mean every day. I am being serious and yes, in the rain too.’ She was, in that moment, proud of her efforts, glad to have this one thing that set her apart, and even happier to be sharing it with him.
‘You’re right, you are a fruit loop.’ He hugged himself and laughed. ‘I’m joking! It’s awesome!’
‘Is it? Why?’ Delight flooded her being at the prospect of him finding her or any aspect of her ‘awesome’.
‘Because how many people can say they do that? Not many, I bet. I mean, I know people who take a dip in the local pool or jump into lakes when they get the chance and, of course, a swim on holiday, but to come here every day and get in the sea ... that’s awesome!’
His words felt like praise, like approval, and she felt her heart race, struck by how easily they chattered and how delighted she was by his presence.
‘I suppose.’ She stood up straight and sucked in her tummy.
‘So I guess the question is, why do you do it?’ He sure was full of questions and she was flattered by his interest.
‘Why?’ she stalled.
‘Yes, why do you get out of, what I am assuming is a warm bed, and put yourself through it?’
‘Erm, it makes me feel good, it makes me feel ... better.’ She wasn’t about to give him every detail, not when he felt she was already, apparently, in fruit loop territory.
‘Brilliant.’
‘What is?’ She looked up at him, this time a chance to study the shape of his jaw, his neat top teeth, uneven bottom row, his Adam’s apple. Her eyes settled on his hand. No wedding ring. Not that everyone wore one, of course, and she knew you didn’t have to have taken vows to be in a committed relationship.
‘The fact you’ve found something that makes you feel good, feel better. That’s the key, isn’t it? Discovering the things that get you through the day and going for it!’
‘I guess so.’
‘And you swim alone? You don’tdragyour partner down here on dark, rainy mornings?’
‘No partner to drag ...’ Was he fishing? She felt her stomach jump with excitement at the possibility, and wished Connie were here to ask – she was so good at decoding flirt-speak and picking up on those subtle signals that might mean attraction. Actually, that was a bad idea. One look at Connie with her fabulous boobs, big mouth, doe eyes and tiny waist and Tawrie’s own broad, barrel-hefting shoulders and robust, log-shifting legs could only fare unfavourably in comparison. She’d do her best to keep him away from Connie for a while. This she thought only half in jest.
‘But I don’t swim alone, that’s a big rule of wild swimming: safety first, obviously. We’re in a club, the Peacock Swimmers.’
‘Oh right.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s the rest of the ostentation?’
‘The what?’
He laughed again, but in a manner that was friendly and not mocking. ‘That’s what you call a group of peacocks – an ostentation. Isn’t it great?’ Enthusiasm spilled from him. ‘Those glorious feathers, the display, the theatre, is there anything more ostentatious?’
‘Not that I can think of. You’re right, it’s great!’ And it was. ‘There are only three of us, actually, and the other two are still swimming.’ She pointed to the dark, bobbing heads of Maudie and Jago, trailing their inflatable, pink floats.
‘Ah yes, I see them.’
‘But even though we’re a little gang, I like to swim alone, secure that they’re close by, but it’s all about the solitude. Time to think, getting lost in the moment.’
‘I see. And here I am spoiling your morning, interrupting your thing!’ He slapped his forehead. ‘I should go, let you stay in the moment or whatever.’ He rolled his hand.
