Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
The landscape out of my window the following morning looked as if it had been popped into a freezer overnight. The horizon was dove grey, meeting snow-topped hills, and the foreground was crusted with a thin white layer of frost. I cursed the traditional country pursuit of wild swimming, especially since this family were mad enough to want to do it in the depths of December. Health benefits of ice-cold water be damned; I was about to run the risk of hypothermia in order to keep up this fa?ade.
My first (hopeful) thought was that the lake might be frozen over, but judging from the clattering about and buoyant voices from beyond my door, the morning’s plans hadn’t changed. My stomach rumbled in protest when I remembered that this was a pre-breakfast activity.
I edged out into the hallway, still in my pyjamas, with the reluctant intention of finding Sophia and the promised swimwear. But I didn’t need to go far. Hanging on the doorknob outside was a bright yellow bikini that looked like it had shrunk in the wash. In the middle of the spaghetti string ties, there were tiny bits of fabric, no bigger than a Toblerone triangle, that would barely cover a nipple. The bottoms were also string tied, G-string at the back with a marginally larger triangle at the front, but not by much. I held it up, thinking that this wouldn’t look out of place in the Liaison Secrète range. And then I remembered it had been a very long time since I’d tended to my lady garden and bile rose in my throat. I hadn’t brought a razor so the overall look was going to resemble a bearded man eating a tortilla chip.
Penn came down the corridor, dressed in a stripy dressing gown, and I quickly held the bikini behind my back. The fewer people party to my shame, the better – after all, this was going to eventually be concealed under a wetsuit.
‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Did you sleep okay?’
‘Mm. This morning’s activity came as a bit of a surprise though.’
‘Same for me.’ He looked pained. ‘I had no idea, I’m sorry. Did Soph give you something to wear?’
I nodded, my sweaty palm gripping the coat hanger more tightly. ‘So, where are the wetsuits?’
‘In the boathouse. Don’t worry, there’s a little room to change in. Just pop a dressing gown and a coat over your swimmers and I’ll take you over.’
There then came a shout from downstairs. It sounded like Bertie. ‘Come on, you two. Last one in’s a mangy badger.’
I ducked back into the bedroom and wrestled on the offensive swimwear, tying the long straggly elastic strings at either side of my hips. I then pulled on the dressing gown that had been left for me on the back of the door, and finally added my thick coat and Chelsea boots. Penn and I hurried downstairs and out the back of the house, Penn grabbing a wax jacket on the way. I could see a large lake in the distance with a wooden hut on the shore. As we walked towards it, the frozen grass crunched under our feet.
‘You owe me big time for this, Peregrine,’ I said, already shivering.
‘You never know – you might like it,’ he said, grinning.
I just rolled my eyes.
Inside the boathouse, the family hovered expectantly, dressed in their wetsuits, wet shoes, gloves and swimming caps. All were there except for Sophia, and I wondered if she wasn’t coming after all.
In the middle of the boathouse, flanked by two boarded walkways, was a channel of water where a small rowing boat and another with a petrol engine were tethered. To the rear of the hut was a door leading to a small storage room.
‘This will warm the cockles,’ said Hugh, rubbing his gloved hands together.
‘It will when we’re finally in and out,’ said Bunny. ‘Chop chop, you two.’
‘Ladies first,’ said Penn, gesturing towards the door, and I went inside, shutting it firmly behind me.
Inside was an array of boating paraphernalia, engine fuel and a selection of swimming outfits, lit up by harsh strip lighting overhead. I pulled on a swim cap then rummaged for a wetsuit of about my size, putting it to one side for the moment. I then squatted down to inspect a large wicker box of wet shoes and gloves, combing through it for something that would fit.
Suddenly, I heard Sophia’s braying voice from the boathouse and murmurs of good morning from the others. A brief muffled conversation ensued, then her voice drifted closer to the store-room door.
‘Perry, you naughty boy!’ she purred from very nearby. ‘But you’re right – I’d be late to my own funeral.’
There were some cries of warning, and then suddenly the door was yanked fully open. In a panic, I leaped up, clutching some swim gloves to my scantily covered boobs. A split second later, I felt the firm tug of the string tie at my left hip being stretched to breaking point – it had caught in the weaving of the wicker basket. It pulled the knot loose and the elastic string pinged like a rubber band, the already indecent triangle of fabric flung to my right hip. My unkempt private area was fully on display to the assembled family outside for at least two seconds before I covered myself with one of the gloves, hence revealing a good proportion of my left boob.
I screamed and pulled the door closed, in the last moments seeing Penn’s parents’ horrified faces and Penn himself, both hands pressed to the lower half of his face, eyes wide.
Oh God . Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod .
I rested my forehead against the door, my heart thumping. Not only had my fake boyfriend seen more of me than he ever should, but I’d just done an impromptu striptease for Lord and Lady Ashcliffe.
‘I’m so sorry,’ came Sophia’s voice from the other side. ‘I thought I’d lost one of my swim gloves and came looking for another one. But it’s just here, on the floor. Oopsie!’
‘No worries!’ I trilled. ‘It’s fine!’ I’d never felt so British in my attempt to console a person who’d shamed me, and shamed me hard.
‘We’ll just be on the shore, m’dear,’ came Hugh’s traumatised voice. ‘Meet you out there.’
It took me a solid ten minutes of dragging on wet gear and giving myself a pep talk before I slunk out of the boathouse and down to the shore. I couldn’t even look at Penn.
Bunny smiled at me coldly, and Hugh coughed and looked anywhere but in my direction. Penn came over and put an arm around me, and for a moment I felt a rush of vulnerability. I looked up at him gratefully, realising that for the first time, in this place, he was the closest thing I had to a friend. His eyes flickered with an indecipherable expression – a beat of solidarity? Then I glanced away to see Sophia’s nostrils flaring. She quickly rearranged her features then pouted and made her fingers into a heart shape at her chest.
‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.
Penn went to get changed, then we were off. Bertie and Penn were the first to step into the shallows, moving quickly and determinedly and making manly, gritty noises. Sophia bounded in next, squeaking coquettishly. Then Hugh took Bunny by the hand, and they followed on.
‘Come on, Annie,’ yelled Bertie, who was now shoulder deep and shivering. ‘The quicker we get going, the quicker we’ll warm up.’
There was nothing for it. I either got in or I’d be responsible for two generations of English gentry succumbing to hypothermia (although in my current mood, that mightn’t have been a terrible thing). I speed-walked into the water, my breath freezing in my lungs as I waded out to chest height. It was like walking into a frozen margarita, if the margarita was sludge grey and had leaves floating in it. Screwing my eyes shut, I dropped my shoulders under the surface and pushed off into a glide. I swam in the direction of the group, seeing that Penn had hung back, treading water to wait for me.
‘You’re doing fine,’ he said, his teeth gritted together from the cold.
‘Really?’ I gasped. ‘Because swimming in ice-cold water wasn’t on the itinerary I expected.’
‘Not just this. Everything.’
We paddled along beside each other, trying to keep pace with the seasoned strokes of the family ahead.
‘I don’t think I’m doing okay at all. Your mam clearly hates me, and she and Sophia seem thick as thieves.’
Penn nodded stiffly. ‘I know. But we’ve got to put on a good show. The more we can convince them that we’re in love, and you aren’t going anywhere, the sooner they’ll get the message.’
‘And you think… this one weekend… is going to solve… all of your… problems?’ I had to keep stopping every few words to deal with the cold taking my breath away.
‘Not all of them. But one of the biggest ones. I don’t want to get married to Sophia.’
‘The… man’s not for taming?’
He swam on, saying nothing for a moment.
‘The man’s not for settling.’
Then he ploughed on, forcing me to redouble my efforts to keep up.
Back in the house an hour later, after a hot shower and wrapping myself in a dry dressing gown and fluffy socks, I had to admit that the wild swim had felt good. After the initial sting of cold, the strenuous swimming had got my blood pumping and the heat building in my body. Then, after the hot shower made my skin tingle all over again, I’d felt a rush of endorphins normally reserved for my sensual product range.
I texted Olivia to ask how everything was going.
We’re three vibrators and a mini-chopper down already! she replied, swiftly followed by: Mini-chopper as in kitchenware, not a new Liaison product. She signed off with winky face and aubergine emojis.
Fab , I typed. Thanks for holding the fort .
That’s okay! Hope the convention is going alright.
I sent her a thumbs up and lay back on my pillow. The smell of fried eggs drifted up the stairs. I pulled on some clothes, wondering if I’d be expected to use a special egg knife from the selection of cutlery at the breakfast table, or if I’d embarrass myself yet again by using a regular one.