Chapter 11
Phoebe is clearly not the only one who has come down to the river in search of something today. She has found a quiet spot in the meadow a little way away from the groups sitting on blankets either warming up after a dip or getting changed into their swimwear.
A couple of customers are gathered outside the royal-blue canal boat which has the words The Kingfisher Café and Book Barge written in swirling letters. A man dressed in corduroy trousers and a tweed waistcoat serves what look like home-made cakes through the hatch. Phoebe spies a glimpse inside the boat, where a small leather armchair sits in front of walls of bookshelves. On the riverbank nearby are several wooden crates filled with books and a few people browse contentedly, picking up copies here and there.
‘Do you fancy joining us?’ The voice makes Phoebe jump, turning in the direction of a woman in her fifties who is standing nearby, dressed in a navy swimming costume with a pink swimming hat on her head. At her side are a couple of younger women, one blonde and curly-haired and looking to be in her mid-twenties, and a red-headed teenager who wraps her arms around her chest as if she wants to fold in on herself and disappear.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ says the older woman. ‘You were just looking at the water so intently. You look like you could do with a swim, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve attended funerals that are cheerier than your expression.’
Despite everything, Phoebe snorts with laughter.
‘I guess you might be right.’
‘Not been your week?’ the older woman asks.
Not been my year, Phoebe feels like replying, but she stops herself at the last minute. Her problems are nothing compared to what most of her patients have to deal with every day.
‘Ah, it’s all right really. Pretty gorgeous here, isn’t it?’ She looks around, taking it all in.
‘It’s my favourite place in the world,’ says the older woman in reply.
‘A swim in the river always makes everything better,’ chips in the younger woman with the curly blonde hair.
Phoebe isn’t sure that submerging herself in water is going to solve her problems, but the water does look pretty inviting as it glitters in the morning sun.
‘It sounds tempting, but I don’t have any swimming things with me.’
‘That’s OK,’ replies the older woman, unfazed. ‘There’s a lost-property box you can borrow from. There’s always plenty in there. I’m Sandra, by the way. And this is Jazz, and Hester.’ Hester nods in reply and Jazz waves enthusiastically.
‘Hey! I love your tattoos. What does that one say?’ Jazz asks. She points at the words that wind their way around Phoebe’s wrist, just below the delicate string of daisies and sunflowers that wrap up her forearm.
‘This too shall pass,’ Phoebe replies, touching a finger subconsciously to the words. Her dad’s favourite saying. As she thinks of him, she experiences a stab of guilt. Her mum and nan. She was supposed to call them back yesterday. She’ll ring them later, but calling them means having to tell them about Max and she isn’t sure she feels ready for that yet. ‘My name’s Phoebe, by the way. Thanks for taking me under your wing.’
‘That’s all right. We’ve all been where you’ve been, standing on the edge, not sure about getting in. But it’s worth it – you’ll see. Here, this one looks like it will fit you.’ Sandra flings a costume in Phoebe’s direction. Next, a towel lands at her feet in the grass. Without letting herself overthink it, she starts wriggling out of her clothes.
It’s been a long time since she last wore a swimming costume and for a moment she grips the towel around herself, self-conscious about the way the borrowed costume hugs her curves. But fuck it. It’s just a body. She drops the towel and forces herself to push her shoulders back, twisting her hair up into a bun on the top of her head.
‘What do you think? I think it may be a little … small?’
The suit fits OK around the hips, but it has a plunging neckline that feels more fitting for sunning yourself in St Tropez than splashing about in the river. Jesus, Phoebe thinks as she glances down, there’s cleavage and then there’s just plain and simple indecency.
‘If you’ve got it, and all that …’ says Jazz.
Sandra is more blunt. ‘You look absolutely fabulous, dear. I wish I had a rack like that. Mine have been like raisins ever since I had my darling children.’
Hester’s face has turned scarlet and she shakes her head in mortification as the other women laugh.
‘Thanks, Sandra. I haven’t swum in ages, but at least if I get stuck, I’ve got my own flotation devices.’
Once they’ve all stopped giggling, they make their way down towards the water, which, on closer inspection, looks decidedly murky. There are twigs and leaves on the surface and …
‘Is that a fish?’ she squeaks.
‘Well, I doubt it’s a shark,’ says Sandra.
‘Are river sharks not a thing?’
‘Well, if they are, we’ll be the ones to discover a whole new species, and wouldn’t that be exciting? They might even name it after us!’
‘Stop teasing, Sandra,’ says Jazz as she eases herself into the water, letting out loud puffs of air as she launches herself into the cold.
Hester is already in, having slipped in gracefully. Sandra runs in with her arms stretched wide, water splashing everywhere.
‘Are you coming in?’ she calls from the middle of the river, where she is now treading water, a wide smile on her face.
‘Come on, you don’t want to miss out, I promise,’ calls Jazz.
Phoebe thinks about all the things she has missed out on because of her dedication to her work, her inability to find a balance, all the missed dinners and holidays and now her relationship too. She thinks back to the message she received earlier from Max. I hope one day you’ll be able to be happy for me that I found someone who actually wants to be with me and have a life outside of work.
Well, maybe Max was wrong about her. She’s not at work now, is she? She’s going swimming in a river with a bunch of strangers. She does have a life.
‘I’m coming!’ she yells as she throws herself into the water with a roar.