Good Me Bad Me(55)

If I’d thought about it, been clever about it, I’d have stayed at home, missed swimming this morning. Stupid. Head, foggy. I change in a cubicle, thankful the scars and cuts on my ribs are hidden by where my costume sits. I’d tell them if I could, that I open my skin to bleed out the bad, let the good in. But they wouldn’t get it, they’d ask, what are you talking about, what bad?

A line of canoes faces us, rescue training essential for the Duke of Edinburgh scheme. We’re split into groups of four, whoever we’re standing next to. I should have paid more attention.

‘Come on, girls,’ Mrs Havel says, hurrying us up. ‘Has everybody got a group to work with? Wonderful. Line up at the edge of the pool.’

Clondine tries to be nice.

‘Oh, come on, Phoebs, she’s not that bad.’

Challenged in public, by one of her own. She tells Clondine, ‘Shut up, you don’t even know her.’

She’s right.

‘No, but I know you,’ Clondine responds, flashing the healing cigarette burn on the back of her hand.

We’re at the opposite end of the pool from the instructor. Hushed whispers pass back and forth, loud enough for me to hear. Phoebe and Izzy comment on the way my swimsuit fits, how dark the hair on my arms is. An old scar interests them, purple and large, on my right forearm.

‘Bet you she did it herself.’

‘Yeah, bet she did, probably into S and M.’

An eruption of giggles.

‘Quieten down, you girls at the end.’

The purple crater in my arm. No. I didn’t do it myself, that’s not how it happened. You said as you did it, Mummy, it’s so you’ll never forget. A branding. You held my arm against the heated towel rail in our bathroom. You’ll always be mine, you said. A tattoo of our love scorched into my arm.

The instructor enters the pool, demonstrates how to roll in a canoe. The difference between life and death, he says, when he comes back up from the blue. Relax. Trust in the water, and your partner too. Whatever you do, don’t panic.

I watch him, his mouth moves yet the sound is distorted. Slow motion. It takes me a moment to realize I’m falling. Shoved into the pool. Whispers first, something like, just do it, push her, go on. I land in the water with force, the tiles on the bottom bruising my legs. I use them as purchase to swim up for air. A row of heads all in a line stare at me as I surface. Girl soldiers in black Lycra, arms not at their sides but folded over their developing breasts. Laughter, a round of applause breaks.

I swim to the edge, the instructor makes a joke about a keen bean. Phoebe offers me her hand as I approach the poolside. I know what she plans, I can see inside her mind and it doesn’t look dissimilar to mine. I take her hand, one foot up on the side of the pool, halfway out, then she lets go. This time I land flat on my back, the impact of the water stings my skin. More whoops and laughter.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Phoebe, grow up, that was stupid and dangerous, not to mention time-wasting for the rest of the class. I suggest you and Milly partner up for the canoe roll, see if you can be at all sensible together, and for pete’s sake, Milly, hurry up, or do I have to get a rod and fish you out?’

‘No, Mrs Havel.’

I swim to the steps, satisfied by the look on Phoebe’s face. The joke’s on you now, canoe partner.

‘Actually, Mrs Havel, I could use a volunteer and as you’re already in the water –’ The instructor points at me.

‘Excellent idea, swim this way please, Milly.’

When I get to him he asks me to climb into the canoe while he holds it still. It’s all about communication he says, and trust.

‘Ready?’

I nod, gripping tight on to the sides.

‘Rolling on three, okay? One, two, three, and under.’

A blur of blue, up in a flash.

‘How was that?’

‘It was okay.’

‘See, girls, a piece of cake. If you split into pairs for this next bit please, those without canoes can practise assisted swimming. Simply get your partner to lie on their backs in the water pretending to be unconscious. It’s your job to swim them to the side, keeping their nose and mouth clear of the water at all times.’

‘Mrs Havel, can’t I work with Izzy or Clondine?’

‘No, you and Milly will work together. If you hadn’t been so keen to muck around earlier you might have had the luxury of choice, but not now. Your turn for the roll.’

The noise in the pool, splashes and screams, a nervousness in the air, nobody likes the idea of rolling under water. Marie complains about chlorine, the damage to her hair. I swim over to Phoebe, hold the canoe still. Her turn to roll. Perhaps she sees inside parts of my mind too, the thoughts I’m having, because she says, ‘Don’t try anything funny, okay?’

My silence unnerves her, works every time.

‘I mean it, otherwise you’ll pay.’

I nod, fingers crossed behind my back.

While she’s climbing in I’m tempted to ask her about Sam. Her laptop, left behind in her room over half-term. I was surprised, yet pleased, to find it could be accessed with no password. Setting a password was the first thing I did when I was given mine. No need, she thinks. Mike’s the sort of parent who would never look without asking first. A firm believer in respecting privacy, in letting us be teenagers.