Swimming Home

by Mary-Rose MacColl

  ‘We’re considering other schools,’ Louisa said to Black. ‘I do think Henley was less academic than I’d imagined it might be.’

  He laughed. ‘Good attitude, Dr Quick. The school’s the problem, not this one. My daughter’s in France. She loves her school because all they do is ride horses and play sport and cook and eat. They even swim, Catherine. But you don’t need school when you swim like you do. And the Channel’s still there for the taking, girl,’ he said. ‘Gertrude Ederle gave up this week within sight of Dover. You could give her a run for the Channel next year if you trained. That’s what I think. What do you say about that?’

  ‘Can a woman actually swim the English Channel?’ Louisa said. ‘I mean, physically.’

  ‘Listen to you,’ Black said. ‘And I heard you were in favour of women’s equality.’ He pointed his finger at her. ‘Course a woman can swim the Channel—and the first one who does will be remembered forever.

  ‘Dr Quick, can I say again what a great honour it is to have you, and your niece, at our little party?’ he continued. ‘I’m so pleased you could attend. And, Catherine, what you did was an amazing feat and don’t let your aunt tell you differently.’ He grinned. ‘There is nothing finer in the world than a champion. In the newspaper business, we love them. And you, my dear girl, are a champion. I know it. And, as I understand it, we might be going to see more of you?’ He gave Louisa a quizzical look.

  ‘Yes,’ Louisa said. ‘I’m just finalising arrangements for the clinic and then I’ll be in a position to talk to you more. But I’m very hopeful we can come to an arrangement.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine news,’ he said. ‘Now, you were asking me about f lying, Dr Quick. Catherine, as your aunt already knows, I happen to believe that flying will one day be as normal as taking a train or ferry. It gets your newspapers very excited when I say things like that. Perhaps you’ve heard of the mad American?’ He smiled as he said it. Catherine nodded. ‘Have you ever been up?’ he said then.

  ‘Up?’ Catherine said.

  He pointed towards the ceiling. ‘In the sky.’

  ‘No,’ Catherine said.

  ‘Dr Quick?’ Black said.

  Louisa shook her head. ‘I’m afraid of heights.’

  ‘Hah,’ Black said. ‘Me too. But when you’re up there, you’re so high it doesn’t seem high at all, if that makes sense. Andrew here will vouch for that.’ He smiled slyly.

  ‘Mr Black is referring to the fact that I suffer dreadfully from the air sickness,’ Andrew said. ‘I’m not at all frightened by how high we are, as I’m too focused on being ill.’

  ‘Oh dear, that sounds like no fun at all,’ Catherine said. ‘But I think I’d love flying, Mr Black.’

  ‘Say, why don’t we take these two gals with us?’ Black said to Andrew. ‘We’re off to Paris first weekend of September.’

  ‘No, I really don’t think …’ Louisa started to protest.

  ‘That’s settles it. I’ll leave Andrew to tell you where and when. We’ll send a car, of course. Pack your glad rags.’ He looked at his pocket watch. ‘Now, you’ll have to excuse me; I must get back to my meeting, unfortunately—an urgent matter. But I did want to make sure I welcomed you personally. It’s been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Quick, and to see you again, Dr Quick.’ He smiled at Louisa, turned on his heel and left them, Andrew following behind him.

  ‘He’s quite singular, isn’t he?’ Louisa said once they were out of earshot.

  ‘Yes,’ Catherine said. ‘And he’s related to me.’ Louisa looked perplexed. ‘Remember? You said he and my mother are related.’

  ‘Of course,’ Louisa said. ‘I forgot about that in all the fuffle. You were staring at him, dear, and I couldn’t think why.’

  ‘So can we go to Paris?’

  ‘Can we go to Paris?’ Louisa said. She was looking after Black, watching the crowd parting again to let him through.

  ‘Yes, can we go to Paris?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Louisa said. ‘It might be fun.’

  ‘And what’s a fuffle?’ Catherine said.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ Louisa said absently. ‘But I suspect it’s the kind of thing that would lead us to Paris.’

  It was late, after eleven. Louisa was to one side of the ballroom, watching the dancing. Most of the women wore full-length evening gowns, but there were some in the modern style whose dresses only came to mid-calf.

  ‘They do whatever they like,’ Ruth Luxton had said to Louisa when women who came to the rooms began dressing in the style, showing their legs, their arms. ‘They’re just like men.’

  ‘If they wanted to be like men, they’d wear trousers,’ Louisa had said.

  ‘Some of them do,’ Ruth said.

  ‘But why would they want to look like men?’ Louisa said.

  ‘To have the freedom of men. I think they’re gorgeous, like flamingos.’

  ‘Flamingos are stupid,’ Louisa retorted.

  ‘It was a metaphor, Louisa. No need to be so literal.’

  Now it occurred to Louisa that they didn’t look like men at all; they were like boys with their flat chests and short hair. And why not? Boys, she thought: that’s where freedom is.

  Andrew and Catherine were among the dancers, laughing and chatting as they tried one of the new dance steps. He was a lovely chap, and Louisa could see that Catherine enjoyed his company. Ada Mackintosh, his mother, had been one of Millicent’s patients. Millicent had delivered the two boys, and Louisa had inherited the family after Millicent retired. The other one, Donald, had been lost in France in the war, Louisa remembered now. Poor Ada. She adored her sons. Andrew had grown into a fine young man, Louisa thought, still getting used to his adult limbs by the look of him on the dance floor now. He could do with a bit of fattening up too, Louisa decided.

  She was about to go over and tell Catherine it was time they were getting home when she heard a quiet voice behind her. ‘Dr Quick?’

  She turned around. It was Black.

  Louisa had seen him during the evening, standing at the side of the dance floor watching the couples as the band played. On another occasion, he was looking out at the water. She didn’t know what he was looking at, but he looked tired, worn down.

  ‘Louisa,’ he said in his slow drawl. ‘May I call you Louisa?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘if I can call you …’

  ‘My mother used to call me Lear but everyone else just calls me Black.’

  ‘Lear then,’ she said. ‘It suits you.’ Louisa had had two glasses of champagne and as a waiter approached she began to contemplate a third.

  ‘A mad king?’

  ‘Perhaps. Or perhaps Black, for you strike me as a definite kind of person.’ The champagne must have gone to her head, she thought as she turned down the third glass. She should have eaten.

  ‘That I am,’ he said. ‘I want to talk about Catherine.’

  ‘Catherine?’

  He took a long time to respond, so long she thought for a moment he’d forgotten he’d initiated a conversation. Then he looked sharply at Louisa. As he met her eye she felt a shiver. Not drunk then, but hesitant, unsure about something. Those dark eyes—sad eyes, she decided when she thought of him later. There was something compelling about his sadness.

  ‘Catherine,’ he said again. He was smoking a fat cigar, drinking what looked like scotch. ‘The swimmer.’ He smiled but his face looked as if it might at any moment crumple into tears, or laughter. ‘The Thames is a terrible river. The tides, Louisa. She may be the best swimmer we’ve ever seen.’

  Louisa put her glass on a nearby table. Why on earth would he care? she wanted to say. ‘Mr Black Lear, that swim has created an enormous problem. You probably already know that Catherine grew up on an island very remote from the world. She arrived in London with no idea how to behave, and now she is …’ Louisa trailed off, looked over towards the dance floor where Catherine and Andrew were still dancing. He had his hand on her back. Louisa won
dered should she intervene. ‘Please be assured that I will be most happy to come to Baltimore and help you with your clinic in whatever way I can. I would certainly want to bring Catherine as I am very worried about her future, and particularly …’ Louisa couldn’t go on. She thought of the boy Michael, the letter. She must take care of Catherine.

  He smiled, took a long sip of his drink. ‘Let’s take some air,’ he suggested, and started towards the doors out onto the deck.

  Outside it was chilly and Louisa felt herself shiver in her sleeveless dress. Black took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. He smiled. Oh, when he smiled. She found herself drawn to him.

  ‘I could tell you things,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure you could tell me things.’ He looked out towards the water, that dark force beneath the ship. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Later. We’ll talk about all this later.’ He went to take her hand. She let him. At first she thought he was about to lead her somewhere but instead he shook her hand, as if they’d made a deal. ‘My doctors will be pleased to have you come and visit us, Louisa, and I will wire Charlotte Epstein and make arrangements for Catherine to join the Women’s Swimming Association. Meantime,’ he smiled again, ‘let’s pack for Paris.’

  16

  THE NEXT MORNING, CATHERINE CAME INTO THE KITCHEN and asked Nellie for a stamp. Nellie had waited up and they’d told her about the party. The Aloha has a croquet court, Catherine had said. Andrew had shown her. Had he gone off alone with her? Louisa wondered. She hadn’t even noticed. She must keep a better eye on Catherine. ‘And Mr Black is the most marvellous person. He’d taking us up in his aeroplane and even Louisa said we could go.’

  ‘Yes,’ Louisa had said, noticing the look of wry surprise on Nellie’s face. ‘It was a delightful evening. A real gentleman, Nellie.’ ‘Really,’ Nellie had said. ‘You’re going up in an aeroplane? Well, I never.’

  ‘Catherine, I’ll post your letter on my way to the clinic,’ Louisa said now.

  ‘Was there any mail for me yesterday?’ Catherine said.

  ‘No,’ Louisa said before Nellie could answer.

  ‘I haven’t heard from Florence,’ Catherine said. ‘I hope they’re all right.’

  ‘We’d know if anything had happened,’ Louisa answered.

  ‘Catherine’s doing much better,’ she said to Nellie after Catherine went back upstairs and out of earshot.

  ‘I think she still misses home. I think that’s the source of all this trouble, if you want my opinion.’

  ‘Nellie, listen to me. We must stop describing the island as home. Her home is here, with her family. You left your first home. Many of us do.’

  ‘I left Braintree for London. It hardly compares with what Catherine had to do,’ Nellie said. ‘But I agree she’s doing better. I think she might have a crush on that Mackintosh fellow.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Are her feelings reciprocated?’

  ‘He’s terribly sweet with her. But he’d be twenty or more. Catherine’s still young. And his mother wouldn’t approve. She’d see the Quicks as merchants, I think, and a little beneath her. Still, he’s been very kind.’ Louisa sat down opposite Nellie. ‘I have to tell you something, and I need you to be understanding.’ Nellie put down her polishing cloth and looked at Louisa. ‘I don’t want Catherine sending letters to Australia.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, she gives us her letters to post. I want to make sure they don’t get posted.’

  ‘But why?’ Nellie said.

  ‘It’s time for her to move on, Nellie. She’s too attached to the past; it’s time for her to realise that her future is here.’

  ‘They’ll write and say they haven’t heard from her.’

  Louisa nodded. She would need delicacy here, she knew. ‘I will keep their letters,’ she said.

  ‘You will what?’ Nellie said.

  ‘Nellie, this isn’t something I’m going to discuss. I am going to hold letters from Australia, just for a few weeks until we finalise arrangements for this trip to America. And then she can get a stack all at once and we’ll send hers. Simple.’

  ‘But you can’t do that, Louisa. It’s dishonest. She asks about those letters all the time.’ Nellie stared at her. ‘You’ve started already. You’re already holding letters. She’s been asking. Oh, Louisa, you can’t be so cruel.’

  ‘I have one,’ Louisa said. ‘Can’t you see the letters are the problem? They keep dragging her back into her old life.’

  ‘No, Louisa, I won’t do this,’ Nellie said. ‘No good will come of it. She’s not a child. She’s near grown. She has a right.’

  ‘Nellie, I knew you’d be like this. But many things are not black and white in life. There are shades of grey. As a doctor, I deal with them all the time. I don’t plan to keep her letters forever, just until we work out what happens next with Catherine, until she has a clear future. Weeks, that’s all. Will you help me?’

  ‘Are you sure it’s for the best?’

  ‘I am,’ Louisa said.

  ‘Well, all right,’ Nellie said. ‘But only for a few weeks. Then we pass them on.’

  ‘Of course,’ Louisa said, believing that this was what they would do, but knowing too that when you begin a deception, it rarely finishes anywhere near where it starts, and it even more rarely has only the consequences you intend.

  ‘You always play that song on the gramophone,’ Nellie said that evening. The three were in the parlour, Nellie dusting, Louisa reading case notes. Catherine didn’t answer. Louisa looked over at her niece on the lounge. She was sitting there looking into the middle distance, listening to the song. ‘It’s beautiful,’ Louisa said.

  Nellie looked at her. ‘Not when you’ve heard it a hundred times today.’

  ‘It’s still beautiful. What’s it called, Catherine?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Catherine said. ‘I bought it at the Camden Market.’

  ‘Is he singing “where dreams come true”?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘He is,’ Catherine said.

  ‘In dreamland,’ Louisa said. She smiled. ‘I can see why you’d like it.’

  Catherine smiled and it filled Louisa with warmth.

  ‘The pair of you are beyond me,’ Nellie said. ‘I’m going to clean the range. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now.’ She took up her dusting cloths and left them.

  Louisa smiled at Catherine. ‘I think Nellie grew up in a more industrious household than you or I,’ she said.

  ‘Do you think?’ Catherine said. ‘You seem to be able to manage everything.’

  Louisa laughed. ‘If only,’ she said. ‘Why do think Nellie’s here?’

  ‘She said it’s because you’re a Christian woman.’

  ‘Hah. For a start, I am anything but a Christian woman. And second, Nellie’s here because if Nellie wasn’t here, I wouldn’t manage. I don’t know the first thing about running a household.’

  ‘But you’re a surgeon, Louisa. You don’t need to be able to do those things.’

  ‘And what would stop you being a surgeon?’

  ‘I couldn’t do that. I can’t even get through school.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Louisa said. Catherine’s confidence had taken a blow. ‘You’re a Quick. You can do anything. If you want to succeed in school, you’ll be able to. We just have to find the right kind of school.’

  ‘You thought Henley was the right kind of school.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Louisa said. ‘But I was wrong. Or the timing was wrong. Whatever it was, you didn’t fit in there. We need to try somewhere else.’

  The song had finished and Catherine went over to play it again.

  ‘You like Andrew Mackintosh,’ Louisa said.

  ‘He’s hilarious,’ Catherine said. ‘At the party, he was saying that Mr Black loves swimming. Then he started this game where we had to find words for water. He rattled off so many, rain, mist, fog, downpour, sea, ocean, lake stream, waterfall … I can’t remember any more. But he h
ad twenty and I’d hardly thought of one.’

  ‘Yes, he’s quite charming. His father is a writer.’ Louisa had met Ada’s husband; he was a difficult man, aloof. That Andrew was so affable was a credit to Ada. ‘Florence’s son, Michael. Did you like him too?’

  ‘Bid,’ Catherine said. She grinned. ‘Very much.’

  ‘You were a bit like brother and sister,’ Louisa said, trying it out.

  ‘Yes,’ Catherine said, ‘but more happy. My friends at school liked their brothers and sisters well enough, but they got mad at them sometimes. Michael and I didn’t get mad at each other. Sometimes we were almost like one person.’

  ‘I see,’ Louisa said. ‘Did you like him the same way you like Andrew, then?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Catherine said. ‘Andrew’s funny but Michael was …’ Her mouth went down at the corners like a child’s might. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Louisa, but I just miss home.’ She started crying. Louisa felt a stab of remorse now for hiding the letter—Catherine clearly wanted to hear from the boy—although the extent of her upset gave no reassurance at all. Their relationship must be quite developed, Louisa thought, and Catherine was too young.

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. It has been hard for you, Catherine, but once we set off for America, it will be easier. And you never know. Perhaps you’ll go back to the island once you’ve finished school. But for now, give me a hand with this case, would you?’ She wanted to take the girl’s mind off that blasted island and wished now she’d never raised it. Louisa went back to her report. ‘I’ll tell you about it and you tell me what I should do.’

  Catherine looked at her aunt, sniffed. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Of course. Come, sit down with me.’

  Louisa explained the details of the case. A young man who’d been superficially injured in the war had ever since experienced a range of odd symptoms: facial tics, involuntary vocal soundings, sometimes foul language. He’d been referred by a physician in Harley Street and Louisa wanted to help if she could. The physician was suggesting there might be a tumour.