Chapter 47
Phoebe and Luca have made it to a stretch of river a little way downstream that Phoebe has never been to before. Here, the trees have fallen away and there are fields on either side of the banks, sheep grazing on one side and horses on the other. While the river swimming spot feels like a secluded little bubble, out here it feels open and light, the views stretching out for miles across a patchwork of English countryside.
She lets the oars drop from her hands and stretches her arms above her head.
‘My hands are killing me already!’
‘Yeah, I basically have permanent calluses on my palms from rowing,’ Luca replies. ‘It’s worth it, though.’
Instead of taking her out on one of the tiny streamlined machines like the one Luca was rowing when they first met, they are in an old-fashioned wooden rowing boat painted bright red.
‘Better for beginners,’ he had said when they’d met at the riverside. ‘And for snacks too,’ he’d added, lifting up a bulging Giuglia’s bag and placing it down inside the hull.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ she’d said. ‘I’d been dreading getting into one of those tiny contraptions. And snacks are always a good choice.’
She has surprised herself by how much she has enjoyed the feeling of pulling the oars through the water, the satisfying tug as the paddle catches. And how much she has enjoyed Luca’s company, even if the awkward kiss that they still haven’t talked about hangs in the air between them. They’ve chatted as they’ve made their way along the river, Luca sharing more stories about his mum and Phoebe opening up about her father’s struggles in a way she never did with Max. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed about her dad’s depression, just that she didn’t want Max to see him any differently and she innately sensed that he would. But Luca listens without judgement. She talks about her work, too, and how it’s consumed her life for the past few years.
‘I get that,’ he says, nodding. ‘When I was getting the deli ready, it was all I could think about. And now it’s open, it’s not much better either. It’s not just a job to me, it never will be.’
‘Exactly,’ Phoebe replies. ‘My job isn’t just a job either.’ It’s something Max never understood. How, even on the tough days, she would never be able to stop herself from caring deeply.
‘I think it’s all about balance, isn’t it?’ says Luca. ‘Our jobs will always be important to us and there’s nothing wrong with that. But other things have to be too. Things like this.’
He looks across at her, a dark curl falling in front of his face and his caramel eyes meeting hers. Does he mean the river, or something else?
A dragonfly comes to rest on the end of one of the oars and they both watch it for a moment before it darts off again. In the field beside them, a sheep lets out a loud bleat, but otherwise it’s quiet.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot about the snacks,’ he says, twisting behind him, making the boat rock and Phoebe grab hold of the sides. He reaches inside the bag for a paper parcel that he opens to reveal crisp, golden scrolls of pastry lined up in rows, each bursting with a different-coloured filling.
She draws in a little breath.
‘Your mum’s cannoli.’
‘I’d recommend the pistachio. That was always her favourite.’
He passes her one and she puts it in her mouth, the pastry snapping and crumbling and her tongue tingling with the sweet, creamy taste of pistachio and a bright burst of lemon.
Luca takes one too, his eyes closing. Phoebe watches a look of contentment spread across his face and something tugs inside her. ‘They taste of my childhood,’ he says and it feels like a precious kind of secret, getting to know this about him.
It makes her find the courage to at least try to clear the air, as she meant to yesterday.
‘Look, Luca. About the other night. I’m really sorry for what happened. It had been a long day and I’d had too much to drink. It’s something I’m working on.’ She hasn’t had a drink in over a week and while there were moments when she was at her parents’ place and worrying about her nan that she had craved the numbing warmth of a large gin and tonic, she hasn’t missed the hangovers that she realises now had become a normal part of her existence. She thought everyone woke up each morning feeling like death. ‘Anyway, I’m really sorry I launched on you like that when you clearly didn’t want me to.’
Luca brushes the pastry crumbs from his fingertips and tilts his head, looking at her closely. There’s a patch of icing sugar caught on his bottom lip.
‘You think I didn’t want to kiss you?’
The boat bobs slightly on the flowing river, a family of moorhens paddling serenely by. Phoebe focuses on watching them instead of the fact that her cheeks are probably co-ordinating perfectly with her hair right now.
‘Well, you did step away from me. What else was I supposed to think?’
She might not have the most extensive experience with men, but someone physically recoiling from you feels like a pretty clear message.
‘I wanted to kiss you, Phoebe. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time you stepped into the deli.’
She looks up at him now, meeting his eye again. He holds her gaze without looking away.
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah, oh. You were so annoyed at me that day. And you had every right to be,’ he adds quickly. ‘But, God, I couldn’t believe how someone could look so annoyed but also so … vibrant at the same time.’
‘It’s the hair, isn’t it?’ she says, gesturing to her bright red ponytail that perfectly matches the red lipstick she is wearing because there might be some people who wouldn’t think to wear bright red lipstick when rowing down a river, but Phoebe is not one of those people.
‘It’s not just the hair,’ he replies in a gruff voice. ‘You’re fucking luminous, Phoebe. Everything about you. Yeah, the outfits and the hair too. But it’s also just you. That day you came into the deli like a whirlwind? Yeah, you were mad at me. But after you’d gone, I found myself feeling more alive than I’d been since Mum died. And the craziest thing is you don’t even realise it – the fact you have this light inside of you that makes people want to be around you and open up to you. No wonder you’re so great at your job. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else and I’ve only known you, what, a couple of weeks? So, yeah, I wanted to kiss you.’
For once, she has absolutely no idea what to say.
‘So then why did you pull away?’ she eventually manages.
He winces slightly, brushing a hand through his curls.
‘I knew you’d had … some wine to drink. I didn’t know if you were kissing me because it was me or just because I was there.’
Sitting opposite her in the rowing boat, having just said what he’s said, he looks vulnerable and exposed but OK with it too.
‘It wasn’t just because you were there,’ she says quietly, looking up so that their eyes meet and the river and the fields around them disappear completely. ‘I mean, I was glad you were there,’ she adds with a wry smile. ‘But it was because of the way you absolutely always have food somewhere on your face and when you talk about ingredients, it’s like you’re an extremely nerdy fan talking about an underrated album of your favourite band. Because you left me a care package on my doorstep even after I’d yelled at you. Because of how much you care about your business and how hard you’ve worked to make it a reality.’
There’s more she could say too. The way he danced without inhibitions to his mum’s favourite song in the middle of his deli with his dad. The way that one curl of hair always falls in front of his left eyebrow. The way that, ever since she found out he was her neighbour, it’s been an absolute nightmare having to think about him right there in the space below hers.
It’s his turn to appear lost for words. At the same moment, they both seem to decide they don’t need to say anything at all as they each lean forward decisively, bridging the gap between them in the rowing boat. As they reach for one another, the boat rocks. And instead of finding herself falling forward into Luca’s arms, Phoebe lets out a sharp scream as the boat tips and they capsize into the river.
Water rushes into her nose and mouth as she scrabbles about before bobbing up to the surface to see Luca opposite her, treading water and with his hair wet and bedraggled, making her think of an Old English sheepdog who has been caught in the rain.
‘Shit,’ says Luca, paddling with his arms, the upturned boat and oars floating beside them.
‘The snacks!’ cries Phoebe.
And then they both start to laugh.
Together, they push the boat over towards the bank where it is shallower and then plant their feet on the bottom. Phoebe’s hair drips around her face and her sodden clothes cling to her. Luca’s muscles are even more visible than usual through his soaking grey T-shirt and there’s a strand of pondweed stuck to one shoulder. He strides through the water towards her.
‘Come here,’ he says, pushing strands of wet hair out of her face. He wraps his arms around her as they stand waist-deep in the river. ‘This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,’ he says, revealing another little bit of himself that makes her shiver, and not just from the cold water. ‘This date sucks, doesn’t it?’ He takes a step closer to her and she does the same, reaching her hands up and across his broad, solid back.
‘It’s the absolute worst,’ she mumbles as their bodies press flush against one another and she tilts her face towards his and kisses him. This time, he doesn’t pull away.
Phoebe’s whole body tingles, and not just from the cold, as they drag the boat back up onto the riverbank and into the beach hut boat store, stacking the oars alongside. After the unexpected dip in the river, she’s glad they thought to leave their phones and keys in here, tucked away under an upturned boat. As Phoebe reaches for her phone, she notices a whole string of messages in the swimming group’s WhatsApp chat.
‘Oh shit,’ she says as she scrolls through, catching up on the frantic conversation she missed while she was on the water.
‘It looks like something’s going on outside,’ Luca says, peering around the boathouse door. Her attention still half on her phone, they follow the rising sound of conversation back outside, where they spot a crowd gathered around the Kingfisher. The lifeguard is there, alongside a collection of swimmers, some of whom Phoebe recognises from previous dips. In the middle of them all is Hamish, handing out copies of the local newspaper.
Once they’ve joined the group, Luca reaches out for a copy, Phoebe catching snatches of the conversations happening around them.
‘I can’t believe it …’
‘It’s just awful …’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘To think we’ve been swimming in that …’
Luca unfurls the newspaper and together they silently read the front page.
Sewage in the Avon
Locals told ‘stay away from the river!’
A new water report conducted by the River Trust has revealed that levels of pollution in the stretch of river between Farleigh-on-Avon and Waterford are among the worst in the country.
Dangerously high levels of sewage have been detected in the river water, attributed to overflow from the local water treatment plant. Environmental laws state that overflow sewage is only allowed to be released into the river during storms or at other points when the drainage system is overwhelmed, but investigations by the Avon Times and the River Trust suggest that waste is being dumped in the river far more frequently.
The local environmental board has issued instructions to immediately cease water activities on this stretch of river due to the serious risk of ill health posed by the polluted water. This includes rowing, kayaking, paddleboarding and swimming.
The water will be tested again by Somerset Council in two weeks and another statement will be issued then as to whether it is safe to return to the river.
Once she’s finished reading, Phoebe looks up and catches Luca’s eye. His expression looks just as horrified as she feels.
‘Shit,’ he repeats.
‘Quite literally,’ she replies.
He attempts a smile, but she can tell his heart isn’t really in it. Neither is hers. She suddenly wants nothing more than a very hot shower and a gallon of mouthwash.
‘I work here – how is this the first thing I’m hearing of this?’ she catches the lifeguard saying.
‘And what about my business?’ chips in Hamish, waving a newspaper in the air. ‘If people aren’t going to come to the river, then my business is over. “Here, have a cherry Bakewell with a side of sewage.” I don’t think so. This is my livelihood.’
‘Look!’ someone says suddenly and Phoebe follows where they are pointing to see two people in Somerset County Council-branded T-shirts striding through the meadow, their expressions grave, carrying a large bag.
‘What do you think they’re doing?’ Luca asks. All Phoebe can do is shake her head, watching them approach.
‘Stand back, everyone,’ one man says as they get nearer. ‘Please stay away from the water.’
They reach into the bag and start pulling out equipment, the crowd watching on as they begin to cordon off the entry point to the river.
‘What’s going on?’ asks the lifeguard.
One of the workers looks up, his eyes landing on the newspaper still held aloft in Hamish’s hand.
‘You’ve seen the papers. This water is severely contaminated. We’re cordoning it off for everyone’s safety.’
His colleague finishes attaching tape around a tree and heads off towards the diving board and pontoon to do the same there.
‘Hey, that’s my chair!’ cries the lifeguard, rushing off as one of the workers drags her deckchair away to make way for the cordon.
Animated conversation continues around them, but Phoebe returns her attention to her phone. The WhatsApp group has gone wild ever since Kate shared a link to the news article earlier this afternoon, everyone expressing their disgust and shock.
But it always seems so idyllic,typed Jazz at 5.01 It feels so jarring to think of what’s really been going on beneath the surface.
The latest string of messages are in response to one sent by Kate at 5.34.
Emergency meeting of the Farleigh-on-Avon River Swimming, Bathing and Recreational Water-Based Activities Club at mine tonight? 7 p.m., the Old Post Office. I’ve got wine. Bring snacks? Xxx
Everyone else has agreed that they’ll be there. Phoebe checks the time: 6.45.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she says to Luca, putting her phone away and trying her best to keep her teeth from chattering in her soaking-wet clothes. God, she can’t wait to get them off. Now she knows what’s in the river, she can’t stand the feel of the water on her skin. ‘Actually …’ she adds, glancing at Luca. Maybe she doesn’t have to do this on her own. Maybe it doesn’t matter if her past relationships have all failed. Because they weren’t him. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’