Chapter 19
That week, the weather warmed up a little more, allowing Aria to weed and plant up the garden around the hut, discreetly swimming when no one was around.
She’d travelled into town to see a couple of cheap rental properties only to find they’d already gone.
So, she resigned herself to squatting for now, trying to make herself comfortable on a sofa bed with Tiger snoring beside her.
At the end of the week, she went to assess the house on the lake so she could put in a quote for tidying up the garden.
She wandered the winding pathways, crossed the stone bridges and jumped slippery stepping stones in pointless ponds until she’d landed back where she started, at the front of the house.
Her verdict: the paths were overgrown, the streams were clogged, the hedges needed cutting back and the ivy was out of control.
This property made her inherited piece of land look like a small flower bed.
There were hidden walls and not-so-hidden follies.
There were fountains and arches and gates.
But, most of all, there were penises. So many phallic-shaped statues that she didn’t know where to look.
Wandering back around the circular route, she stopped in front of a mermaid flouncing out of the fountain, and decided she’d be throwing a hissy fit too if she had to swim in that much weed and mud.
Although she’d already bathed in the lake that morning, the pull of the water made her want to head straight back home for a lunchtime dip.
Some parts of the landscape were undeniably lovely and needed little work – like the carpet of bluebells that wound its way towards a mosaic wall.
But the whole thing gave her a bit of a headache as she attempted to guess what each part of the job should cost.
Back at home, she added it all up before rounding it up to the nearest hundred pounds and pressing send.
Then she started to do some proper research into the state of the lake.
***
‘I had no idea the water was so toxic,’ Aria said to Belinda the following day, her statement ringing around the small shop.
‘We need more regulation! Phosphorus levels have doubled in the last few decades. Companies have been allowed to ditch wastewater contaminated with sewage into lakes left, right and centre. And the algae problems have been increasing annually since—’
‘Pah, you’re preaching to the choir here,’ said Belinda. ‘I’ve been banging that drum for years.’
Aria put her hands on her hips. ‘We have to educate people. Stop them getting away with it. See if we can get anything done before the Spring into Summer Swim.’
‘Yes! Like Erin Brockovich! Or the guy who shouts at the pigeons at Poet’s Panorama.’
Aria opened the notes in her phone. ‘We need a plan.’
‘We could turn the tourist office into a resistance bunker? I could get some tea-towels printed?’
‘Who are the biggest offenders, and can we find stats to back our arguments? We’ll need to print some leaflets.’
‘It’s a toxic shocker!’ Belinda said, pushing her grey hair behind her eyes.
‘Great headline. We’ll use that. But I’m worried people won’t listen to me.
I moved away for a while, and I have no friends or influence.
I’ve zero experience of campaigning or local politics, except vicariously through my dad.
He was a force to be reckoned with, but he’s gone.
I can’t even be sure my research will be taken seriously. ’
‘That’s why you need a journalist. I have a contact on the local paper. Well, it’s regional now actually, as they closed the Inglemere office last year, but this story is of wider interest, in any case.’
‘Is there anything in this town that isn’t at risk?’ Aria sighed.
‘We will never give up our toilets!’ Belinda cried, with more Dunkirk spirit than necessary.
***
Two days later, and Aria stood on her veranda in the drizzle, waiting for the reporter to show. After half an hour she stomped up to the gate to check it was working.
The journalist held out her hands. ‘I thought you’d both forgotten our appointment. I’ve been pressing this as well as phoning.’
Aria apologised. ‘The buzzer only works in my neighbour’s house, and my phone has no signal here.
’ She led the reporter to her cabin and, as they marched past Nic’s house, she realised she hadn’t seen him for a while.
Maybe he’d hotfooted it back to London for a haircut?
Aria briefed the reporter on everything she’d learned over the last week or so, shaking her head as she passed the half-dug beds, randomly pulled weeds and rudimentary allotment.
She really needed to get on top of the digging and growing.
It was already too late for some plants which would need to go in next winter.
But the job on the other side of the lake would take most of her time now.
When the estate agent had accepted her quote by return email, she suspected she had underquoted.
Aria paused her thoughts there as the woman next to her drew in a big breath and sighed at the beauty of the lake.
‘How lucky you are that this is your backyard. I’d give anything to look out at this every day.
’ While she was pleased the reporter understood its appeal, Aria rushed to tell her the cabin was just a fishing hut for day visits.
She’d made sure the sofa bed was folded away and the pillows stowed an hour before the scheduled visit.
She picked up a stone and wiped it clean with her thumb before skimming it on the lake, a practice she never got tired of.
‘It’s entrancing, I know, especially the thought of swimming in it, but it’s not the same lake as it used to be.
Did you follow the links to the articles I sent?
I’m sure you will be familiar with them, as most of them were published in your paper.
Belinda and I have been putting together a leaflet about the neglect and careless destruction of the town’s best asset.
She will be giving them out to everyone who visits the tourist office.
I’ve also been in touch with the people who run our annual swimming event, and they are going to let me have a stall to hand them out there.
I think people will respond to an appeal to their better nature and hopefully pressure those thoughtless companies to do something about it.
The state of the lake was something my father was very passionate about, and I feel it is only right I take on his cause.
He crossed the lake every day on the steamer and often climbed the fell to get a good view of it on his day off.
He predicted this problem twenty years ago and worked towards eradicating it all his life.
‘Look around. There used to be dozens of summer cabins like these. Now they are all gone. People like my neighbour have bought up all the land and are contributing to the damage with their fancy developments. Houses of the size he is staying in over there need utilities and infrastructure like roads and car parks. All this destroys delicate ecosystems as well as discharging run-off into the lake. He’s planning a marina too, and you should have heard the noise created by a jet ski a few weeks ago.
God knows what other kinds of pollution are flooding in.
’ She bent down and kissed Tiger’s velvet head before continuing.
‘And that’s before you factor in the blue–green algae and knotweed.
I wonder if organisers are monitoring the lake yet in advance of the Spring into Summer Swim, because I do worry about the water quality. ’
The reporter nodded. ‘There’s a new sponsor. He’s donating a significant sum of money in exchange for naming rights. I’m due to talk to him next.’
‘Who is it?’ Aria asked. ‘Actually, I can probably guess.’ Either Nic, with his inexhaustible bank account, or Justin with his untamed ego and ambition.
There was very little left in the town that didn’t have the Hetherington logo on it.
‘Everything is becoming commercialised, geared towards the tourist or second-homeowner. And this screws up the services, amenities and nature they come for.’
When they finished talking, Aria stood with her back to the water for a photograph for the paper’s social media. One day soon, her neighbour’s marina would likely block her view of the lake. She would fight against that day with every fibre of her body.