Sophie sighed dramatically. ‘I see that as a you problem not a me problem.’
‘I hate to break this to you but it’s a you problem if you’re running registration. Why on earth didn’t they hire you for the pre-swim motivational talk?’
Aria’s joke earned her a honk of laughter. Dressed entirely in black with X Men sunglasses perched on her nose, Sophie looked as comfortable in her skin as ever, whereas Aria was feeling as overheated as a boiled egg. Unlike many of the other swimmers, she was putting off climbing into her wetsuit for as long as possible. She’d far rather dive into the lake in her cozzie, but rules were rules, and she’d have to wear a swim hat too which was always an ordeal with her mop of hair. She glanced around for Nic again but didn’t find him. She could ask Sophie but didn’t want her to think she was trying to muscle in on her boyfriend. The tent was growing busy.
Sophie grinned. ‘If you want to take a proper look around, why don’t you go get me a coffee? I’ll return the favour by buying you a hot choc when you’ve completed your mile.’
‘I’m doing the elite swim.’ Aria corrected her. ‘What kind of—’
‘Any kind. If you need to kill a Columbian cartel to source ground caffeine mixed with blood gold, I won’t judge. Just get me a freaking fix, will you.’
Aria shrugged. ‘Sure. Because you clearly need more hyping up.’
‘Actually, I need to pee, so I’ll get us both one. I just hope they’ve put in posh portaloos this time,’ Sophie said. ‘The smell last year resembled a gazillion rotting nappies. Do you know, in Iceland the toilets flush with hot water from the geysers. Better than an enema, eh?’
Taking this fact with a pinch of salt, Aria moved behind a table full of names, with no idea how to register anyone. The stall for this year’s charity – Inglepets Animal Shelter – took pride of place in the huge marquee. Outside, Cal Lawson was selling a winning combo of hot dogs and beer from an Airstream food trailer, and there were delicious-looking strawberry cream teas on offer from the WI. Aria had often told her dad they should put‘never too full for a scone’on her gravestone when she died, unless they had to chisel ‘choked on a currant’ instead. Looking out to a lake her father loved, she wondered if Felicity would be here. She wished she had a sibling to help her navigate this stuff – not just losing her father, but the role of being a stepdaughter to a woman she hadn’t warmed to. Felicity had moved heaven and earth trying to force a friendship when she first met Dad and still hadn’t managed to establish a single common interest. Aria cringed, remembering her work experience at the stables, and the Sunday lunches where she felt like a stranger in her own home as she passed overcooked carrots and mourned Mum’spossessions slowly being replaced on the mantlepiece. Shaking herself out of a spiral, she tried to assist a lovely old man called Fred with his registration. When she couldn’t locate his welcome package, she grabbed hers and scribbled out the name. He would need the warming hot chocolate voucher more than her, as she was used to the chilly temperature of the water. As she handed over the envelope, a loud voice announced the arrival of the other Lakeland accommodation dynasty.
‘The bog-standard swimmers have to register over there,’ Justin said to another man. His broad back was clothed in a creased linen jacket, with sweat patches under his arms. ‘However, the elite pick up their envelopes from the other table. I’ll just nip to the little boys’ room and then grab mine.’
Aria was relieved – hopefully Sophie would be back by then. It was just like him to call out the weaker swimmers like that. His presence sent a shudder through her body andnotin a sexual way. She’d accused Nic of hubris, but Justin was a bombastic bulldozer. His self-assurance came from his self-made father and self-satisfied mother regularly telling him he was born into greatness. They bragged about the Hetherington genes as though they’d shipped them in from Harrods, but her ex was nothing special. He’d done enough at school to get by, while captaining the swimming and diving teams, inviting everyone to parties in the pools of the caravan sites nearest the coast. As competitive swimmers in their teens, they were thrown together on a regular basis, but he only made his move when her prize tally equalled his. He had a half-decent body, and she had been keen to lose her virginity, so theydated and then became an item, until one day he decided they would get married. And then, a year after that, he undecided it by text, informing her she could pop the ring back to reception when she was passing any of his sites. She was pleased to this day that she’d got rid of it in a pawn shop in Reading and spent the money on takeaways.
Sophie reappeared in the tent with two cardboard cups. ‘They say you shouldn’t have coffee or alcohol before a race. But this is breaststroke rocket fuel, babe.’ Sophie winked.
Aria took the cup. ‘Ow! It’s hot!’
‘Mocha laced with a miniature bottle of brandy. A traditional pre-race beverage. Talking of hot…’ Sophie murmured as Nic appeared at the entrance to the tent.
With a stab of jealousy, Aria thought he looked as cool and handsome as ever in brown chinos and a cream shirt. Did he have someone follow him around with an iron? And who was the older man with him? Probably someone he was shamelessly schmoozing. The two men had a similar look and stood with their arms folded as though they owned the world. Maybe Nic was negotiating to buy another chunk of it. She waited for Sophie to run to greet her boyfriend and was surprised when she made no move. A moment later, they disappeared again. As the latecomers rocked up, Aria realised the race would start soon and asked Sophie if she’d mind watching Tiger for the duration of it. ‘I need to go and put on the hateful body armour.’
As her friend cooed and kissed the little dog, Aria hurried to the tented female changing rooms. The beach was already full, with people taking a quick dunk or stretching whilespectators stood with their dogs and kids, chatting in small groups or eating breakfast. As she emerged back into the sunlight with her wetsuit on, she suddenly felt part of something, and God was it good to be back. Joining the warm-up at the edge of the lake, she started a conversation with the woman next to her about how lovely it was to join in a proper community event. A few minutes later, the swimmers surged into the water on the parp of a horn. Soon the air was filled with splashing. Some set a ridiculous pace, while Aria waited for the rush to be over. She acclimatised to the cold water before trusting the testers and pushing her head into the familiar darkness, setting herself on a solid course. Freshly annoyed that Nic was trying to turn it into a competitive event, she took time to enjoy the spectacle and the feeling of being alone in a crowd. At the halfway buoy, she was taking a moment’s rest when an old man struggled up and grabbed at the huge inflatable. She recognised him as the guy she’d helped at registration.
‘You doing OK?’ Aria asked, concerned about his pale skin as he rubbed bloodshot eyes. ‘Fred, isn’t it?’
He looked a little defeated when he answered, ‘How kind of you to remember. I think I took on more than I was capable of. I was county champion in my youth, and harking back to that, I persuaded my daughter to let me swim on my own. But I’m used to a swimming pool and this lake has proved a challenge. I dearly want to finish what I started, but, if I’m honest, I’m very cold.’
Aria noticed he was breathing unevenly as he struggled to hold on to the buoy. She made up her mind. He needed tobe removed from the water. ‘Let’s call a boat to transport you back to the shore.’
His face fell. ‘Please, don’t do that. I just need to take it a bit slower.’
Picking up on his pride, she offered him a way out. ‘Have my goggles.’ She whipped them off and fixed them on his head while treading water. ‘It could be contaminants irritating you. I’ve been campaigning about chemicals – you should take a look at my stall on your way home.’ Aria told him. ‘I think I’ll bob around with you for a while, if you don’t mind. I’d like the company.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t delay you like that, my dear. You have a race to swim. And you kindly gave me your bracelet at registration.’
‘Then we were meant to swim together.’ She touched the extra bracelet she’d swiped from behind the desk. ‘I’m tired myself,’ she lied, charmed by someone who wore his age in the wrinkles on his face. As they swam towards the shore, she happily went at his pace. ‘You seem fine now, but if you go blue, start talking rubbish or giggle hysterically, I’m going to call one of the safety boats over.’
‘I talk rubbish all the time but haven’t had a proper giggle in years, my dear,’ he replied. They made companionable conversation as they headed towards the shore. ‘Thank you for babysitting me,’ he said as they approached the wooden pier that marked the end of the swim. ‘I am very much afraid I spoiled your race.’
She waded out, making sure he was steady on his feet beside her, before putting him right on something. ‘It isnot primarily a race, but a community event, put on to remind us how lucky we are to live near this beautiful lake and to enable people like you and me to enjoy it together. And I enjoyed it even more by spending it with you. So, my thanks to you, Fred.’ Aria noticed people were starting to pack away the buoys and the safety boats were coming in behind them. Most of the swimmers would be having lunch by now.
‘I think I was too ambitious signing up for the elite category,’ the old man confessed.
‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of ambition. And you are elite in my eyes,’ she shivered.
***
As she walked back towards the lockers, a voice boomed out a critique of her performance.
‘Second to last? I watched you in the water after I finished. You’re out of shape, Aria Wilson.’ Justin appeared in front of her, dressed in tiny Speedo swim trunks with goggles on the top of his head and a wetsuit over his arm. ‘As two of the best swimmers in town, I’d have expected us both to be in the top five. What happened to you, girl?’
