‘And when you’re back in Bedlam, I thought maybe you might swim for pleasure or peace, like when you go to your old cedar tree or the wood hut. When you did,’ I pause, ‘I hope that maybe you’d remember me.’
I look up at River, cheeks flushing at my own earnestness.
He frowns down at me. ‘Oh, I’ll remember you all right, Gertie,’ he mutters, shaking his head a little. ‘I’ll most definitely remember you.’
I hold up my hands. ‘Look, forget I ever said it! I can learn something else! There are classes all over London. I’ve always wanted to try rug tufting. We can go do that!’
River kicks his boot against some dried mud and peers once again at the pond where people are screaming and laughing, a short line of people in bathing caps waiting for the chance of joyful respite from this relentless heat.
‘No,’ he says eventually. ‘I’m really fucking annoyed at you right now, but I’ll try the swimming. Only because we’re here already, it’s as dry as the heart of a haystack today, and frankly, I’d rather publicly drown than do something called “rug tufting”.’
‘You sure?’ I press my hands together excitedly.
He grabs the bag from me and peers into it. ‘No snacks in there at all, huh?’
‘I brought us some custard creams for afterwards. But wecan have them now, if you like? An apology for my overstepping. I really am sorry.’
‘I’ll do you a deal, ‘River says, mouth twitching. ‘You stop apologising so much and I’ll forgive you.’ He holds his hand out.
‘Deal,’ I laugh, taking his hand and immediately picturing how it felt pressed against the back of my head, and my back, and my bottom.
River’s eyes flash. ‘And I’ll be wanting your share of the custard creams too.’
*
‘That’s it! That’s great! No, don’t look at those people staring, ignore them. You’re doing great! Kick! KICK!’
River holds on to a floatie, kicks his back legs and glides through the mixed pond at Hampstead Heath. While we’ve only been in the water for twenty minutes, we seem to have amassed quite an audience. I should have thought this through. I should have realised that the hottest man – a man so literally out of this world it takes your breath away – paddling his way across the pond while clinging for dear life to a hot-pink floatie, would attract some attention.
‘This is mortifying,’ River grumbles as I swim beside him, having to expend all my effort to keep up with the speed at which he naturally moves through the water.
We’ve kept to the shallow area at his insistence and when River suddenly stands up, I’m pretty sure I hear a collective gasp from the fellow swimmers and spectators now watching from various deckchairs in the vicinity. How did thiscrowd form so quickly? I wonder if people started texting their friends:You have to come see this!
River huffs. ‘I feel as dumb as a wagon wheel right now.’
‘Shall we try without a floatie?’
‘I don’t think I’m there yet.’
‘You are! You already know most of it. Your legs are perfect.’
‘Is that so?’ he asks, straight-faced.
‘I meant technique wise,’ I correct myself, but my voice squeaks because his legsareperfect. Romantic-hero-level perfect. Thighs thick and sculpted, strong sinewy calves, golden skinliterallyglistening.Do not stare. DO NOT stare at the golden glistening skin, Gertie, you great big perv.God, how embarrassing. Note to self: Trying to put a lid on sudden rampant horniness isnothelped by asking object of said sudden rampant horniness to wear only a pair of shorts and frolic in a pond on a beautiful summer’s day. Yes, I am now aware that my feelings for this man are more than just a scientific surface-level attraction, but it does not mean that the scientific surface-level attraction is anything less thanraging.
Focus, Gertie.
I try to shift my voice into a more professional tone. I clap my hands together like I imagine a real swimming teacher might. ‘Okay then!’ I chirrup. ‘Let’s get to it! I want you to move your arms like this.’ I do the breast-stroke motion. ‘The aim is just to stay afloat.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.’
River rubs the back of his neck, the vulnerability raw onhis face. So utterly human I wonder how I could have ever suspected he wasn’t real.
I take the floatie and pop it on the banks of the pond.
‘I’ve got you, River. I promise. And if it makes you feel better, this is massively helping me! I’ve barely thought about Henry at all today, which honestly feels like a blessed relief.’
