Water Born (13 page)

TWENTY-TWO

I
'm lying in bed, the sheets damp around me. Have I slept? I don't know. I was awake when the dawn light started creeping through the crack of the curtains. Awake when the first bird started singing. The air is thick and stifling.

I look at the clock. Nearly six. Normally I'd be up and having a quick snack before training, but not today. I think I'll steer clear of the pool for a little while.

All yesterday, all last night, I had thoughts in my head I couldn't blot out. Christie, Harry. And Rob's voice.
We did it
.

My phone pings. I reach for it and open the new message. It's from Clive.

Team meeting to honour Christie: 8.30 a.m. Swim after. Nic, can you get here for 7.30? Need to talk
.

I groan.

Someone taps on the door and immediately opens it. Dad pops his head round.

‘Got a text from Clive,' he says.

‘Me too. Dad, I don't want to go today. I think I need some time away from there.'

‘They'll want to ask you about yesterday. Don't worry, I'll be there.'

‘Can I just go after that?'

‘I think you've got to go to the team meeting, Nic. Out of respect. Just meet up with them. You don't have to swim.'

I sigh.

‘It's that place, Dad. I don't feel safe there any more.'

‘I know. But I'll be there. I'll be right with you. Jesus, Nic, it's hot in here.'

‘My radiator's been on.'

‘What?'

‘I can't turn it off.'

‘The heating shouldn't even be on. I'll go and have a look at the boiler. You don't need to get up yet. Try and get a little more sleep if you like.'

He closes the door and I close my eyes.

My phone pings again. I reach for it and squint at the screen.

You awake?
Milton.

Kind of
.

Wanna Skype?

I sit up and reach for my laptop. When I activate Skype, Milton's call request is already there. I accept and two
windows open up. Me and him. He's at his desk already, I'm propped up in bed with my hair like a bird's nest and my eyes full of sleep.

‘God, I look like a tramp,' I say. I try to smooth my hair down, with only partial success. I wipe my eyes with my scrunched-up hands, making them squeak in their sockets.

‘Morning, Nic. You look lovely.'

‘Milton, you didn't wake me up just to be pervy, did you?'

He smiles.

‘No, I wanted to check you were all right. I heard about Harry.'

‘Do you think I did it?' I don't know why I said that. Too sleepy to be careful, I suppose.

‘What?'

‘Hurt Harry.'

‘No! 'Course not.' He frowns. ‘
Did
you?'

‘I wanted to. Hurt him.'

‘Wow. Why?'

‘I thought I liked him, but it turns out he's just a pig. More than a pig. A prick.' I check Milton's reaction. ‘Sorry,' I say quickly. ‘I shouldn't speak ill of him, not when he's in hospital, but . . .'

‘. . . but he
is
a prick. I could've told you that.'

‘Do you know him?'

‘He was in my year at school. Tried to flush my head down the toilet in the first year. Nice.'

‘God, Milton, I wish I'd known. I would've steered clear.'

‘He didn't try to flush you, too, did he?' He's smiling again.

‘No. He . . . I can't tell you. I did something I shouldn't have. I didn't know he was . . . and then I pushed him at the pool, I didn't mean to hurt him, just get him wet, but he hit his head. Oh God, can we just talk about something else?'

‘Nic, it sounds like an accident. Accidents happen, okay? Either that or you don't know your own strength. I'd better remember that. Anyway, I've been thinking about your dad – and your uncle, the one who drowned.'

Now I'm really awake. For a moment I'd forgotten that Milton knows all about them. Him talking about them makes it all seem more real.

‘I don't think that incident is enough to explain how your dad is now. I mean, it's really bad, but lots of people have lost people close to them. There's got to be something more.'

‘And is there? Did you find something?'

‘A few weeks after the accident, there was a massive flood in Kingsleigh. The river burst its banks and a whole row of houses was flooded up to the second floor. Your mum's was one of them. Your mum and dad both got taken to hospital. You should ask them about it.'

‘Yeah. Yeah, maybe I should. My mum doesn't seem freaked by the water, though, Milton. She's just worried about Dad.'

‘Perhaps she's the one to talk to, then.'

‘Hmm.' Then I remember the last time I talked to her and my face starts to flush. ‘Um, Milton, I should tell
you something.'

‘Yeah?'

‘It's a bit embarrassing.'

‘Whatever. Shoot.'

‘I had to make up a lie really quickly and I just said the first thing that came into my head . . .'

‘Yeah?'

‘. . . and I kind of ended up telling my mum that we're going out.'

‘Huh?'

‘I said you were my secret boyfriend.'

He processes my words for a few seconds, then breaks out into a huge grin. God, this is exactly what I was afraid of. Talk about crossed wires. I need to untangle them quickly, before they get in a knot.

‘Aw, Nic, you should have said something. You know I like you.'

He's still smiling but I can't tell if there's a serious edge there or not.

‘It wasn't . . . I mean, it doesn't mean . . . the thing is . . .'

Now he's properly laughing.

‘Hey, Nic. Relax. I like you. I
really
like you, and I'm flattered that I was the first one to pop into your head, but—'

‘It was just one of those things . . .'

‘—but I'm pretty sure I'm gay. I mean, I am. Sure. And gay.'

‘Oh.'

‘Not boyfriend material. Not for you anyway. Sorry.' He holds his hands up in a
What can I do?
kind of gesture.

‘Do you mind being my pretend boyfriend, if Mum
asks you?'

‘I don't mind at all.'

I breathe a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks, Milton. You gave me a locket, by the way. It's really nice.' I fish it out from my vest top and hold it towards the camera.

‘Hmm, I've got good taste. Well done me! Who did give it to you?'

‘I . . . found it.'

‘O-kay. What's inside?'

‘Dunno. I can't get it open. It's, like, rusted shut or something.'

‘If you open it there might be clues in there as to who it belongs to. You could get it back to them.'

‘Yeah, maybe.'

He looks behind him and then back to the screen.

‘I think Mum's awake. I'd better see if she's okay. You take care, yeah? No more pushing boys. Stay out of trouble.'

‘Okay.'

‘See you later, girlfriend.'

‘Ouch. See you later.'

The screen goes blank and he's gone and I'm thinking, I could have told him more. I could tell him about Rob.

Rob. The first time I heard him was the first time I wore the locket in the pool. Was that just a coincidence? Milton's right. I should try and get this thing open, look inside. I glance round the room, looking for something to help prise it open.

And then there's a knock at the door.

‘Nic, we need to get going in about twenty minutes. Come and have some breakfast.'

The locket will have to wait.

At the pool, there's a reception committee waiting for me. Clive and Jake are there, and one of the managers.

‘We need to talk to you about yesterday.'

Dad steps in. ‘Will it wait until after training?'

‘Afraid not. We'll use the membership room just along the corridor. Nic?'

‘I'm coming too,' Dad says.

‘Of course.'

The room is just a small office. A couple of desks pushed together. A couple of computers facing each other. No window. It would feel claustrophobic with just two occupants, but with five of us it's more than uncomfortable. There aren't enough chairs.

I'm asked to sit in front of the manager while the others stand. I reach into my bag for my bottle of water and take a swig.

‘Nic. I'm Steve, the duty manager. As you know, one of our lifeguards, Harry, was seriously injured here yesterday. I'm looking into the circumstances. Can you tell me what happened?'

‘Is he all right? I mean, is he going to be okay?'

‘We're waiting to hear how he's doing this morning. They stitched him up yesterday, X-rayed him. He had severe concussion.'

‘I'm really sorry . . . I hope . . .'

‘I know. Now, in your own words, what happened, Nic?'

‘We were just talking after training, mucking about. Messing. He fell backwards, then he seemed to get his balance, but then . . . then he went. I think his legs were tangled in the rope or something. His feet went from under him.'

‘Jake here says he saw you push him.'

Jake's standing behind him, arms crossed, face set hard.

Another swig of water to buy myself a little thinking time. A tiny bit trickles out of my mouth. I wipe it with the back of my hand, smearing it across my jaw, and hear a faint whisper close to my ear.

The rope, Nic
.

I look round, but no one else has squeezed their way in. It's just the five of us.

‘I did . . . just a little push, playing. Messing about, like I said. That's not what made him fall. As I say, we were only having a laugh, and he was getting his balance back from that when his feet went.'

Jake's shaking his head, and then I hear the voice again.

The rope
.

‘Maybe someone pulled the other end of the rope by mistake. At the other end of the pool.'

I look back at Jake, and so do the others now. His face burns, bright blotches appearing on his neck. ‘I didn't pull on it, Steve, I swear to you. No way.'

‘Mistakes do happen, though, don't they?' I say, innocently. ‘Everyone makes mistakes.'

‘That's not what happened. You pushed him. Shoved him. I saw it.'

He's shouting now, his voice too loud for the room, his
frame seeming to get bigger and more threatening by the second.

‘All right, all right.' Clive's squaring up to him, putting his body between me and Jake. And now Dad's jumping in.

‘You heard her. It was the rope. She should know. She was nearest.'

‘Dad, it's okay.'

He's got his hand on my shoulder, gripping hard, the sweat from his palm soaking through. ‘You need to think about the health and safety here.' He shoves an accusing finger towards Steve's face. ‘First Christie and now this! What sort of place are you running? How can I be sure my girl is safe?'

‘Dad, for goodness' sake, calm down.'

‘Now, just one minute,' says Steve. ‘We take health and safety very seriously here. There's no suggestion that Christie's illness had anything to do with—'

‘That's two now. Two carted off from here in an ambulance. Do you think that's safe? 'Cause I don't.'

They're all on their feet now, shouting across the table. I slip out from under Dad's grip and make for the door. I pause outside, leaning against the wall and listen to them. Eight o'clock in the morning and I'm drenched with sweat. I need a drink. I need to cool off.

I could leave now, but even this early it would be like stepping into an oven. Even though I'm scared, the thought of that rectangle of water is too strong. A relatively cool body of water. My body immersed in it.

I walk along to the changing room.

TWENTY-THREE

H
alf an hour before the team is due to meet. So twenty minutes to swim, to switch off and stretch and cool down. No Harry on the lifeguard's perch. No Christie in the pool. But Rob will be in there. Do I really want to do this?

I look at the water. There are some early morning swimmers making the water a little choppy. A couple of lanes are roped off and empty. A board on the side says,
Closed for training
. Whether it was meant to be for the swimming team or lifeguard training, there's nobody there now, and it's got to be better than dodging the flying elbows in the public ‘fast lane'.

I sit on the edge and ease myself in.

No body under the water. No voice.

Perhaps he'll leave me alone now. I can have the
meditative swim I really need. Just me and the water.

I launch in, savouring the split second when I give myself to the water, trusting it to meet me, support me, hold me. And it does. It takes me in and I stretch and move forward.

And he's here.

I can't see him, but I can feel him.

Rob.

He's close. Too close.

Feels good, doesn't it?

What?

Winning. Christie and that boy. Dealt with. Out of the way. Punished
.

I didn't mean them to . . . I didn't want . . .

Yes you did. You know you did
.

No! Not like that.

But you made it happen, Nicola
.

He's right, isn't he? I gave Christie the water. I pushed Harry.

We did it together. You and me. We're a team
.

I want it to stop.

Soon. Two to go, remember?

Mum and Dad. I gave him their names when I was mad at them.

I didn't mean it. I was just cross, confused. I don't want to hurt them.

Don't you? They lied to you, Nicola. They want to control you
.

They're just trying to protect me. I don't want them hurt.

You don't know them
.

Of course I do. I live with them. They've looked after
me for sixteen years, loved me.

Sixteen years of lies. Running from the truth
.

I don't understand. I don't understand why you're here, what you want. I'm going to get out now. I can't handle this any more. I want it all to stop.

I'm nearly at the far end of the pool. I kick harder, reach for the side.

It wasn't an accident. It was murder
.

Stop it! I don't want to hear any more. They're my mum and dad. I love them.

Bring them back to me in the water. We've got unfinished business
.

I grab the edge of the pool and lift my head out of the water. I'm breathing hard. Around me, everyone else is having a normal Sunday swim. They have no idea of the nightmare that's playing out next to them. As I look at them ploughing up and down, at the mums and dads with their toddlers in the shallow end, I find it hard to believe this is real.

Am I having a breakdown? Is this just in my head? It must be. Rob died seventeen years ago. How can he be here?

Still holding the side, I dip my head under.

His voice is so close, it feels like he's inside me.

You owe me, Nicola. Bring them back to me, or there'll be more blood on your hands
.

I pull myself up, break the surface, put both hands on the edge and lever myself out of the water. Once on my feet, I shake my head, then smooth the water off my arms and legs with my hands. I wish I could scrape his voice out of my ears, erase the sight of him from my memory.

I walk back to the changing room. The team meeting is due to take place in the café by reception in a few minutes time. No time to shower again, and I wouldn't anyway, not after last time. I get changed quickly, put my stuff in my bag and go to find the others.

I'm the last to arrive. They're sitting round a couple of tables that have been pulled together. Clive's standing nearby. I can't see Dad.

When he spots me, Clive takes me aside. ‘Your dad's outside. We had to ask him to leave. He got very . . . aggressive.'

My ears are still ringing from Rob's threats. And I suddenly wonder: does Dad take after Rob, or is Rob like Dad? Two brothers with a temper, an intimidating edge. Must run in the family.

‘God. I'm sorry,' I say. ‘He's been on edge recently.'

‘Well, he's banned now. Sorry, Nic. We have to take the safety of the staff and other customers seriously.'

‘Of course. He wouldn't hurt anyone, though, he's just . . . it's okay. I understand.'

We join the others. There isn't an empty space. No one shuffles up to make room for me. I take a chair and set it outside the group.

‘Come on, girls, shuffle up so Nic can come in.'

Glances are exchanged round the table. There's a long, long pause until finally one of them moves sideways, creating a not-quite-big-enough gap. I move my chair forward, but I'm still not part of the circle.

‘Okay,' Clive says, ‘thank you all for coming. I know this is a very difficult time but I wanted us to get together to
remember Christie, share our memories of her, share our feelings – maybe have a swim together. I know it's not easy, but I also know that this team meant the world to her and she'd want us to stick together, support each other, work together to get through this. Does anyone want to say something?'

A couple of the girls are crying. No one wants to talk.

‘Okay, well, I'll start things off. For me, Christie was one of those girls a coach like me dreams of finding. She had a gift, a natural ability, but she was also prepared to put the work in – and, more than that, she was devoted to her team. I feel blessed to have known her. I can't believe that she's gone . . .' His voice breaks. His eyes are red-rimmed and he turns his head away, embarrassed at his show of emotion.

Pretty much everyone is crying now. I can feel a lump in my throat, tears pricking behind my eyes, but I can't let them out.

‘I know I'm the newest one on the team,' I say, ‘but I just wanted to say—'

‘Don't, Nic,' Nirmala cuts in.

‘Don't what?'

They're all looking at me now.

‘Don't say anything. You shouldn't even be here, should you?'

‘What do you mean? I'm part of this team, I was Christie's fr—'

‘Don't say you were her friend. You weren't her friend. You should never have given her that water—'

‘Now, Nirmala, let's calm things down, okay?' Clive says,
but the others are nodding and muttering in agreement.

‘And what was that with Harry yesterday? He'd just lost his girlfriend and you pushed him. What the hell was that about?'

‘I can explain. I—'

‘Don't bother. We don't want to hear it. You're not wanted here.
Christie
wouldn't want you here.'

I look round the group, trying to catch someone's eye, find an ally. No one will look at me. Clive holds both hands out, palms up, and shakes his head.

I scrape back my chair and stumble out of the café, on through the exit door and on to the concrete walkway, my vision made blurry by the tears that have finally burst through.

Dad's waiting outside. ‘What happened? Where were you?'

I sniff hard, try to take a breath.

‘I had a quick swim, then I went to the team meeting.'

He looks at his watch.

‘The others are going swimming,' I say, ‘but I've had enough.'

‘Yeah, I reckon I've had enough of this place, too. Let's go home.'

He offers me a tissue and we walk along together.

‘They think I did it, Dad.'

‘Did what?'

‘Killed Christie. Put Harry in hospital. The other girls think I did both those things.'

He stops walking and I mirror him. He holds my arms, just below the shoulders. His palms are clammy on my
bare skin. Beside us, traffic passes close by, adding hot fumes to the thick, warm air.

‘They were accidents, Nic. Accidents happen.'

‘Like all those girls?'

‘What?'

‘The ones on the news. The ones who died in water. Do you think they were just accidents?'

‘Your mum does. But I'm not sure. Actually, I don't think they were accidents at all. I think there's a pattern.'

So do I. Christie. Harry. All those girls. I know what Rob's capable of. Maybe he did it himself . . . or maybe he had help from someone like me.

‘But what you're talking about – Christie and Harry – that's different. You mustn't beat yourself up about them.'

‘I feel . . . responsible.'

‘No. No, it's not your fault. Okay, it was silly to push Harry, but you didn't mean him any harm. And you were trying to help Christie, do what she asked you . . .'

‘The girls hate me.'

He ruffles my hair. ‘They're all in shock, grieving. They'll come round. Just give them time.'

‘Do you ever get over stuff like this? Can you?'

‘Yes, love. It feels like things will never get better, but they do.'

‘You'd know, I suppose.'

‘Huh?'

‘I know about your brother, Dad. I know you had a brother who died.'

He puffs his cheeks out, then exhales all the air he has in him. He leans forward and props himself up, bracing
his hands on his thighs.

‘You must miss him. Why don't you ever talk about him?'

Dad still can't talk. I put my hand on his back. The sweat from his back soaks through his T-shirt, making a hand print where I've touched him.

‘It was a long time ago,' he says eventually.

‘Seventeen years.'

‘Yeah.'

‘And it still knocks the breath out of you. So maybe it's not so easy to get over things.'

He looks up at me.

‘I've tried to forget him, Nic. That's all I want to do. Forget him and move on.'

‘Why? He was your brother.'

‘He . . . I . . . we did things . . . things I'm not proud of. He was . . . a dangerous person.'

Sixteen years of lies
.

I shiver.

‘What happened to him? I've seen some articles online. Are they right? Was it an accident?'

‘Yeah. An accident. We were messing around, and then the weather turned and your mum and I got out of the lake . . . and Rob didn't.'

Messing around. That's what I told everyone I was doing with Harry. A story for public consumption – a lie.

Is this what this is? Is my dad spinning the story of the past so it suits him better?

It wasn't an accident. It was murder
.