‘No sugar, I’m afraid. I was diagnosed with diabetes a year ago. Hence the swimming. It helps.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Ellie took the cup and sipped it; the hot, strong coffee grounded her. She started to feel better.
‘Don’t be, dear. More common as you get older. I’ve got a clever little detector thing in my arm, and I can track my blood sugar with an app. An app, of all things!’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I do miss a glass of wine and I always loved puddings, but it’s not that you can’t have these things, it’s just that you have to be careful.’
‘Oh.’ Ellie didn’t quite know what to say.
‘Telling the newbie your war stories, are you, Clare?’ Simona appeared at Clare’s side, her blonde hair held up with a couple of grips. ‘Ellie, we call ourselves the Wild Sisterhood. Because we love wild swimming, yes, but also because in our combined three hundred or so years of being on this earth there’s nothing that we haven’t seen. You can’t shock us.’ Simona raised an eyebrow. ‘This is a safe space. I want you to know that.’ She placed a gentle hand on Ellie’s shoulder and sat next to her, on the other side to Clare.
‘All right.’ Ellie wondered how many of them had actually noticed her little episode in the water earlier.
‘No particular reason.’ Simona pulled on a jumper and sipped from a bottle of water in her bag. ‘Just, I noticed you were a bit protective of your chest. And I wanted to tell you that all of us have something we’re a bit protective of. Or something we’ve been a bit sad about. Me, I’ve got two C-section scars that mean I’ll never have a flat tummy ever again.’ She tapped her rounded stomach affectionately. ‘That was from the days where they cut you open top to bottom, and then if they had to do it again, they did it the other way. I’m like a hot cross bun if you see me naked, I swear.’ She laughed. ‘And then, last year, I had a heart attack. Had to have a pacemaker put in.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Makes me feel about ninety years old whenever I think about it, but that’s life.’ She shook her head at Clare and Ellie. ‘Anyway, what I’m saying is, whatever you’re bringing to the sea, it takes it. The sea accepts us all, whoever we are. And we accept whoever wants to join our little band of warriors.’
‘Warriors. You’re a hairdresser,’ Clare muttered, sipping her coffee.
‘Retiredhairdresser, if you please. So what? I can be a warrior. So can all of us.’ Simona gestured at Petra, Mara and another woman that Ellie recognised as the manager of the nice café on the high street. ‘All of us step our troubles to the sea, twice a week, at seven a.m. Sometimes I don’t want to get out of bed. Geoff always gets hold of me in a bear hug about six o’clock in the morning, and it’s quite nice, being there under the covers with him, listening to the cows waking up. And you’ll find that some of us here… well, some of us are holding scars you can’t see. But all of us come because sometimes we feel heavy with what we have to carry. And all of us step out a little lighter, afterwards.’
Ellie looked around the group, wondering what other troubles these women held – what shadows lived in their hearts. In a strange way, it was comforting to know that she was among other women who had endured difficult times.
‘Thank you. For telling me.’ Ellie replied. ‘I…’
‘You don’t have to tell us, Ellie,’ Mara interjected. ‘All Simona’s saying is that you’re welcome.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ Ellie admitted. ‘I have to get used to talking about it.’
Slowly, she peeled off the baggy black T-shirt that she had worn into the sea; the morning air felt good on her skin. She kept her white vest on underneath, but she knew that it was obvious from looking at her, as it was close fitting, what had happened.
‘Aw, you poor darlin’.’ Simona put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and hugged her, instinctively. ‘Bless your heart.’
Ellie started to cry. She didn’t mean to, but there was something about the way that Simona, a complete stranger until that morning, had reacted: it was a pure, maternal gesture, and Ellie cried because it had been so long since anyone had enveloped her in their arms in such a protective way.
She had been thinking about her mum, out in the water; and the shock of her own sudden illness and the grief over losing her mum clenched her heart.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed, trying to compose herself. She was apologising for losing control: sobbing on a complete stranger’s shoulder wasn’t the done thing, wherever you were in the world, surely.
‘Don’t you be sorry, my pet. Don’t you ever be sorry.’ Simona stroked her hair. Ellie was aware of the rest of the women standing around her like sentinels; it was as if she was being guarded.
She heard Fee’s voice and looked up, wiping her eyes.
‘Ellie! What’s happened?’ Fee knelt down next to her friend, concern written on her face. ‘Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?’
‘I’m okay.’ Ellie wiped her eyes and gripped Fee’s hand. ‘Really. It’s all right. I just got upset. It’s no one’s fault.’
She stood up, and Fee gave her a hug.
‘If you’re sure. I just came down to see if you guys all wanted to come to the beach house for some breakfast.’ Fee looked around the group, still in the dark about what was going on. ‘But, maybe another time…’
‘No, that sounds perfect.’ Ellie sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘I showed them. I had a mastectomy. I had breast cancer.’ She said it, bravely, to them all. ‘But, before I panicked in the water… that swim was good. So I’d love to come again, if you’ll have me.’
‘Don’t be daft. Course we’ll have you.’ Petra took her arm. ‘And I think I speak for us all when I say I am very up for some breakfast.’
‘There’s muffins from Maude’s Fine Buns.’ Fee led them up the beach, towards the house. ‘I thought we could sit on the porch.’
Petra glanced up the beach and nodded. ‘Perfect timing. Look, there’s that group of surfer dudes again. We’re just in time to watch them.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘Just for their technique, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ Simona rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, you girls.’
‘We aren’t girls, Simona,’ Petra corrected her. ‘We’re the Wild Sisterhood, remember?’
‘How could I ever forget?’ Simona laughed as she climbed the steps to the beach house porch, settled herself in a rocking chair and squinted at the rather toned-looking group of surfers heading for the water. ‘Hang on. I need my glasses.’ She put them on, and smiled beatifically. ‘That’ll do nicely.’
