Chapter 22
‘So, by “Recreational Water-Based Activities”,’ says Phoebe, dressed again now but her skin still tingling from the cold water, ‘you mean …?’
The women are all dressed, but all look a little less neat than before, hair wet and bedraggled. Without saying anything, Sandra leads them over towards the Kingfisher Café and Book Barge. Phoebe’s stomach rumbles at the sight of the piles of baked goods displayed in the hatch, a handwritten chalkboard menu propped outside.
The silver-haired man on the boat looks up from a battered paperback and flashes them a smile, his cheeks ruddy. ‘Ahh, good morning, ladies. What will it be today? I’ve got a freshly baked Victoria sponge, which is pretty excellent, if I do say so myself.’
‘Cake,’ says Jazz, turning to Phoebe to answer her earlier question. ‘Recreational Water-Based Activities means cake.’
Phoebe lets out a laugh, Kate joining in. ‘Now, that’s something I can get on board with.’
‘Well, a swim isn’t really a swim unless you have cake afterwards,’ says Sandra. ‘It’s a very important part of our club. In the winter, I’d even say it’s the most important part. When it’s too cold to swim for very long, at the very least we can sit by the river and enjoy a slice of cake and a hot cup of tea. Thanks to you, dear Hamish.’
The man in the tweed beams at Sandra’s words, his chest puffing up and his already red cheeks growing crimson. ‘Ah, you’re my favourite customers.’
‘You say that to all your customers, Hamish.’
‘It doesn’t mean it’s not true.’
Phoebe glances at her watch.
‘In a rush?’ asks Sandra.
‘Just for work,’ Phoebe replies, surprising herself with her choice of words. When has work ever been just work to her? But when she was in the water, she found her mind for once wasn’t on her patients and her endless to-do list. It was impossible not to be in the moment when you were somewhere so beautiful. ‘But, fuck it, I think I have time for a bit of cake first.’
She chooses the Victoria sponge, on Hamish’s recommendation. He passes a huge slab of it across to her on a china plate decorated in a floral pattern. Her tea comes in a matching china cup, but as she and the others head back over to their spot on the grass to eat, it seems that they have all been given a mismatched array of crockery from what appears to be Hamish’s personal collection. Sandra’s bears the face of Princess Diana, while Jazz has a more tasteful blue-and white-striped Cornishware mug.
‘What does yours say, Kate?’ she asks, trying to read the words.
Kate turns it around to face her and Phoebe almost spits out her tea.
‘Jesus! I’m not sure that I want to think about Hamish being the World’s Best Lover.’ She lowers her voice, not wanting to offend the tweed-clad baker. ‘Although, who knows, maybe it’s actually quite a burden having powers like that.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Sandra replies, taking a dainty bite of a cherry Bakewell. ‘I’ll always remember the night we spent together not long after my divorce. That barge might be cramped, but he’s a man who knows how to make the most of what he’s got.’
Jazz snorts with laughter, spraying cake crumbs.
‘Wow, Sandra,’ chuckles Phoebe. Next to her, Kate covers her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to choke on her cake.
‘Oh, sorry, dear,’ Sandra says, turning to Hester. ‘Cover your ears.’
Hester lets out a sigh. ‘I’m seventeen, not seven.’ But the smile that had appeared as soon as she entered the water is still there.
‘We both decided that we’re better off as friends,’ continues Sandra. ‘And besides, I’m quite happy being single. Two marriages were more than enough for me, thank you very much.’
‘So, you come here every day?’ Kate asks, tactfully changing the subject. The other women nod.
‘Pretty much,’ says Jazz. ‘Do you think you’ll join us again, both of you?’
‘I don’t know if I can manage every day,’ says Kate, biting her bottom lip, a shadow passing across her face. ‘But I’d definitely like to come back.’
‘Me too,’ says Phoebe. ‘As much as possible, even if just for the cake.’
The others laugh and a warmth spreads through Phoebe’s chest that reminds her of the first sip of a gin and tonic. Except hopefully this won’t give her a hangover.
‘Let’s get a quick picture,’ says Jazz, reaching for her phone. They jostle together, smiling.
‘I should probably get going now,’ Phoebe says once she’s finished the Victoria sponge, which really was as good as Hamish promised. ‘It was nice to meet you, Kate, and to see you all again.’
‘It was lovely to have you with us, Phoebe,’ says Sandra.
‘Oh, we should add you to our WhatsApp group,’ says Jazz as Phoebe collects her things, clipping up her motorcycle boots and tucking her helmet under her arm.
She is part of a family WhatsApp group and that’s it. If she scrolled through her phone, she’d find the ghosts of a few WhatsApp groups past, reminders of friendships that she has let fizzle out. A group with a few other nurses, one with her former colleagues on the psychiatric ward and one with some old uni friends. They were all fairly active at one point, but as life and work schedules got more hectic, the messages petered out and eventually stopped completely.
‘Thanks, I’d like that.’
Jazz hands her phone over and Phoebe types her number in then passes it to Kate to do the same.
‘Right, see you all again soon!’
She leaves them chatting and finishing their cakes and heads back up the meadow, her mind switching into work mode and running through her appointment schedule for the day. She’s been worrying about Tara since they last saw each other. The thought of her loneliness has stuck with her, making her heart ache every time she thinks about her. She’s gone over and over in her mind whether the medication is the right choice. But then she remembers how terrifying Tara used to find the voices, especially when they were telling her what to do. It feels sometimes like there’s no perfect answer in her job. There’s no neat solution for the mind, no stitches or cast for the brain.
Then there’s Maude and her beehives. Phoebe might not have promised anything, but she still feels a sense of responsibility. If there’s something that might help her, then she wants to make it happen. But, unfortunately, all her years of training didn’t equip her with the skills to magic beehives out of thin air.
At least she’s feeling positive about her meeting with Camilla Ramsgate after the message she received telling her she had been for a run as promised. It will be good to hear how it went and to be able to tell her about her own side of the bargain. She’s been swimming, not once but twice! She can’t wait to tell Camilla about the kingfisher, and about the other women she met. Hopefully, Camilla has found a running group that’s just as supportive.
Once she’s back at her motorbike and has pulled on her helmet, Phoebe feels her phone buzz in her jacket pocket. There’s a missed call from her mum and a voice message.
‘Hi, love, hope you’re doing OK. I was just trying on the off chance. It would be great to get a time in to chat; your nan would love to hear from you. She’s doing OK, still adjusting to not having her own space, I think, bless her, but I know she’d love to hear your voice. Anyway, love, give us a call when you can.’
She catches the sound of her father’s voice in the background, adding, ‘Hope you’re not working too hard.’
‘Oh, and send our love to Max,’ her mum adds before ending the call.
Her phone buzzes again, two notifications coming in one after the other. The first is from WhatsApp, telling her she has just been added to a group called FoARSBARWBAC. It’s maybe the longest abbreviation she’s ever read, and she’s used to dealing with medication. She’s not surprised that Kate was expecting a very different kind of group based on the name and yet Phoebe thinks it sort of suits them too. It’s quirky and all-encompassing and they are certainly a motley group who have at the same time made Phoebe feel immediately welcome.
A photo pings through quickly after. It’s the picture Jazz took and shows the five of them huddled up together, hair dripping and huge smiles on their faces, the river behind them.
Great swim this morning, ladies. See you soon! Xx
She hardly recognises herself compared to the reflection she’s grown used to seeing frowning back at her in the bathroom mirror in the mornings. Fuck, she looks happy.
Next, she clicks on the email notification from her boss, Mel.
Hi Phoebe,
It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Can you meet me at the clinic tomorrow at 5.30 p.m. after your last appointment? It would be great to have a proper catch-up.
Mostly, Phoebe works independently, travelling around to visit her patients, with occasional drop-ins at the clinics. She’s supposed to have regular one-to-ones, but Mel is just as busy as her, even more so, so they often get missed in favour of more time with patients. That’s their priority, after all.
The meeting has been scheduled for tomorrow. It will be their first catch-up in a while and Phoebe would like to have good news to tell her – especially now that Max has gone and she has to start covering rent and bills by herself and the security of her job is more important than ever. Maybe, if she can show Mel that she is handling her heavy workload well, she might even have a chance of a promotion.
As she climbs onto her motorbike, anxiety creeps its way back into her body at the thought of the future and the empty apartment waiting for her. How is she going to afford new furniture on top of everything else? It’s a small village, so if she has to move, it’s unlikely she’ll find anything in Farleigh-on-Avon itself. And she doesn’t want to go, especially not now. Not now she’s an official member of the Farleigh-on-Avon River, Swimming, Bathing and Recreational Water-Based Activities Club. Or FoARSbrWAC for short.