Swimming Home

by Mary-Rose MacColl

  Louisa smiled. ‘I’m not quite sure I’m ready for sunset yet.’ She sipped her drink again. ‘And I have a perfectly acceptable life.’

  ‘Well, we could drink to a perfectly acceptable life. You’re still worried about Catherine, though.’

  Louisa smiled, for this was exactly what she was worried about. Black had a directness she both liked and feared. You never knew where he was going to go next.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘It’s what you should be doing.’ He drained his glass and called the waiter to order another. ‘You are a good guardian of the child. But I think I understand Catherine better than you realise. I know how it feels to lose your parents at a young age. It knocks you off your feet, the loss of security. I was at school when my father died. They called me back home. I never went back. We didn’t have the money.’ He frowned. ‘I lost my mother not long after, then my sister, and I was on my own.’

  ‘Catherine’s not on her own.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s not. But it has been difficult for her, and she needs to find her own place. She needs to find her confidence.’ He shook his head. ‘What do I know? Anyway, Louisa, swimming is what I can help with, and that girl is a swimmer. My friend Eleanor Roosevelt says I’m a suffragist in disguise.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll put you in touch with Charlotte Epstein. You’ll like her, and you can be sure that she’ll take good care of Catherine. Charlotte’s always hosting visiting swimmers. Catherine will be fine.’

  Louisa eyed him carefully.

  ‘We’re going to have to trust each other if this is going to work, Louisa.’

  ‘I do trust you, Lear,’ she said. And she told herself she meant it.

  Part III

  19

  SHE WATCHED FROM THE UPPER DECK AS PASSENGERS began to disembark, to be met by family and friends. Many embraced warmly, and tears filled Catherine’s eyes. As they’d come into the harbour, she’d looked towards the tall buildings on Manhattan Island like Mr Black had told her to. She’d never seen anything like them, not in London, not in Paris. She saw too the Statue of Liberty, much smaller than she expected, smaller than the buildings, a woman out on her own in the water. It was supposed to represent freedom, but the statue didn’t look free to Catherine, anchored there to the rock. The chains at her feet were supposed to be the chains she’d broken. But she looked as if she couldn’t get away even if she wanted to. She looked as if she might like to dive in and swim rather than hold a torch for all those Americans but the rock was holding her there.

  Catherine wore a long wool coat and a scarf which she pulled up around her neck. She had mitts somewhere but for now just put her hands deep in her coat pockets. It was a different kind of cold from London. A pale sun shone over the water and turned it gold. It was beautiful.

  It had taken nearly six months to get here. Ruth Luxton’s daughter, May, a violinist in her middle twenties, was coming to New York to attend the Juilliard School. Originally Louisa was to sail with Catherine and May, but then Louisa had decided to defer her own travel for a further month—to make sure the refurbishments at Princes Square were satisfactory—and so Dr Luxton had suggested that Catherine could travel with May, a quietly spoken young woman a lot like Dr Luxton herself. They had a lovely room with a porthole, and for dinner they’d sat most nights at the captain’s table because the ship was one of Catherine’s uncle’s line. Catherine had to wear frocks Louisa had bought for her before she’d left. It was supposed to be an honour, to sit at the captain’s table, but Catherine had longed to be free of the confines of the ship and in particular the nightly ritual of dinner. Perhaps that was why she wished Liberty would hoist her skirts and dive in. Perhaps it was Catherine who wanted to be in the water.

  May Luxton didn’t seem to mind the ship journey. She sat in the cabin and read or went to the engine room where she could practise her violin and no one would be bothered by it. She gave a little performance one night during the trip. Catherine had loved the music. She’d never heard anything like it, she said later. Other than that, May left her alone. For all May knew, Catherine might be off swimming in the ocean every day.

  May had disembarked in Newfoundland to visit the Canadian Luxtons before coming down to New York, so Catherine had been alone for the last few days of the journey. She wished she could have stopped in Canada too, to find the Freebodys, her mother’s family. She could go across Canada then and see the mountains Sam the pilot had told her about. She wondered would she see Sam in America. Was he still f lying Mr Black around?

  In the months they’d been organising the trip, Louisa had corresponded with Miss Epstein, the director of the Women’s Swimming Association in New York, who would look after Catherine until Louisa arrived. The summer ended and, after an autumn that felt all too brief to Catherine, they were back to winter, London’s favourite season. Christmas, New Year, sleet, rain and, finally, Catherine set off in the February. Now it was early March, but spring still seemed a long way off. In all that time, she hadn’t heard from anyone in Australia and now, she’d decided, she’d stop writing and pleading with them to reply.

  She heard a voice behind her that might have been her mother’s but when she looked behind, there was no one there. She always said she never missed her mother, but she missed her suddenly now. When one of the teachers in London had described Catherine as an orphan, she’d been on the verge of correcting the woman. ‘That’s not true,’ she wanted to say. ‘I have my father and Florence, and Michael.’ But the teacher had been right. Catherine was an orphan now, all alone in the world. She had no one. Her father was dead, and Florence and Michael had forgotten her. She had Louisa, but Louisa was hard to fathom, even now.

  Catherine had spent her remaining months in London helping out at the clinic. They’d started a little nursery school of sorts in the waiting room. Children accompanying their mothers could stay with Catherine and hear stories or sketch. Ruth Luxton had convinced Louisa to buy some art materials, and they’d designated a corner for them. ‘I just love her,’ Dr Luxton told Louisa on Catherine’s last day. ‘But onwards, young woman of the sea,’ she said. She hugged Catherine warmly and there were tears in her eyes.

  During the summer and autumn, Nellie had gone with Catherine to the Hampstead ladies pond. The English swimmers mostly wore the same kind of suit Catherine had bought, although some wore a more revealing costume, tight to the skin and without a skirt. They swam differently from Catherine too, she noticed, with their heads out of the water, either frog-stroke or a strange sidestroke Catherine had never seen before.

  Nellie never took to the water but Catherine became adept as a cold water swimmer. Strangely, now she preferred it; the sting on her skin when she first jumped in, the slow warming up, even the shivering afterwards. And, oddly, the pond reminded her of the island. The water was much colder, of course, but like the island it was an ancient place, a place where many spirits dwelled, as Florence might have said. Catherine wished she could have shown Michael the pond. She wished they could have swum there together.

  But now she was travelling to an uncertain future. She was totally unmoored—from her family, her home, from everything familiar. Mr Black was the only person she knew in America. She and Louisa had seen little of him before he’d left London. He and Andrew had gone off flying, to Cairo, then Johannesburg. They’d even attempted Java but they crashed. No one was hurt, but the aeroplane was left behind and then Mr Black had to find another. He called at Wellclose Square, and had Louisa and Catherine to visit at the house he rented in Alderson Street. Catherine liked Mr Black. He was interested in swimming but also in Catherine herself, she thought. She was glad she’d see him again here in America. She’d see Andrew too, she knew, because Mr Black had found a job for him at his newspaper. She was looking forward to that too.

  The sun had gone behind a cloud momentarily and the softened light gave the pier before her a gentleness. So here I am, she thought to herself, in America, where my mother’s family is from. Perhaps she’d fin
d something of herself here.

  Catherine realised she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She hadn’t thought of the end of the journey at all. In all the rush to pack and leave, she hadn’t asked who would be meeting her. Louisa may have said something, but Catherine had been too excited to take it in properly. Oh, I should have listened, Catherine thought now. I don’t even know what to do. She thought then of Louisa saying goodbye at Southampton. Catherine had seen tears in her aunt’s eyes, which surprised them both.

  ‘Just remember, dear,’ Louisa had said. ‘You can do anything.’

  ‘I’m a Quick,’ Catherine replied. She found she felt sad too.

  ‘You certainly are,’ Louisa said. ‘And I’ll be right behind you.’ Her aunt swallowed then, and tried to smile.

  Catherine was just about to go to find a steward to see whether there was any message for her from Mr Black when she saw Andrew, his head well above the crowd, in a navy blue coat with a black hat. She waved madly when she saw him. He held his hat to his chest, waving with his other hand, a grin on his face.

  When Mr Black had packed up his London home to return to America, he’d offered Andrew a job. Banking or newspapers? he’d said. Newspapers, for sure, Andrew had replied, he told Catherine afterwards. And so he’d left with Mr Black to start on the Baltimore Sun as a reporter.

  Catherine was soon down the stairs and along the gangway onto the pier. A minute later, Andrew was with her. ‘Mr Black sent me up,’ he explained. ‘He wanted to come himself but, as usual, he’s terribly busy.’ She felt a little disappointed. She’d hoped to see Mr Black again. He’d been so very kind to her. But Andrew embraced her warmly. ‘You’re here. How did we manage this?’ He grinned. ‘And look at you. You’ve changed. You’re … My God, you’re beautiful, Catherine.’

  He was staring at her. She blushed. ‘It’s so grand,’ she said finally, looking up and along the pier.

  ‘That’s the only word for it,’ he said, recovering himself. ‘New York is the grandest place I’ve ever been.’ He’d changed too, she thought, grown into himself more.

  There were windows in the roof of the terminal building and soft light spilled onto their faces. Catherine could still smell the sea but it was mixed now with a smell of fuel and wet wood. She looked around her. Just for a moment, the light above them changed and everything softened. The moment passed, the faces brightened again, and the loud noises resumed. A boat blew its whistle. There were engines and horns sounding constantly from the street outside, and people everywhere shouting to one another. The pier was probably no busier than Southampton, but it seemed busier, more alive. It even smelled busy.

  They collected Catherine’s suitcase. ‘Is this all you’ve brought?’ Andrew said.

  Catherine smiled. ‘You don’t need much for swimming.’

  ‘I brought three trunks,’ he said. ‘And you need even less for being a reporter; just a pen and notebook, apparently.’

  ‘How is the reporter?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, you have no idea what a life I’m leading. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.’ He looked happy to see her, she thought. But there was something smart looking about him now, a toughness in his manner. Catherine wasn’t sure she liked it. It was a little like Mr Black, she thought, but didn’t sit well with Andrew. Perhaps it was a way to get by in America.

  Catherine soon cleared the Immigration Centre for first-class passengers, and found herself on the street. Andrew took her arm and they walked together happily. The salty smell of the water was soon enhanced by richer smells, a lot like the earth on the island, deep and full of possibility. Andrew hailed a taxi, put a bill into the driver’s hand through the window and then opened the door for Catherine. ‘I’ve got better at the tipping business,’ he said quietly.

  They went to a long narrow cafe that had a row of tables alongside a long counter with stools. ‘Baltimore Dairy Lunch.’ Andrew pointed to the sign in the window. ‘Mr Black’s favourite, of course.’ He parked her suitcase at the front entrance and took her to a table in the back. He ordered soup and sandwiches for both of them. ‘Trust me, it’ll be delicious,’ he said.

  The sandwiches were the most enormous things Catherine had ever seen. The soup was warm and flavoursome, with lots of vegetables. ‘I’ve never had soup for breakfast,’ she said.

  ‘Well, where you’ve come from, it’s probably dinnertime, and I’m more in the mood for dinner right at the moment,’ he said. ‘And anyway, it’s eleven-thirty, well and truly lunchtime.’

  ‘There are so many people here,’ she said, looking outside at the people hurrying by.

  ‘As it happens, it’s all the news at the moment: New York’s population is bigger than London’s,’ he said. ‘If you sit here and count, you could probably prove it.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, they’re all out on the streets today,’ she said.

  ‘It’s like this every time I’ve been,’ he said. ‘I have to come up when Mr Black does. I’m still working for him when needed. Last weekend we had another party for Captain Bone, who very kindly brought Mr Black home. Mr Black had a bell made for the Transylvania.’ Andrew was shaking his head softly. ‘I don’t know how many nights we sat up working out the most appropriate words to speak at the ceremony to commission the ship’s bell. Finally Mr Black just said, “May it ring true,” and that was it.’ Andrew smiled. ‘He’s still as ever.’

  ‘So, the reporting?’ Catherine said, smiling. ‘It makes you smoke those cigarettes?’

  Andrew had just lit up. ‘It makes you stay up until three in the morning,’ he said. ‘The demon drink.’

  ‘I thought drink was banned here,’ Catherine said. ‘That’s what Louisa said.’

  ‘Hah. She’d be referring to the Eighteenth Amendment. We call it the Eighteenth Pretendment. Yes, liquor is banned. But there are the speaks, you see, and they are the bane of my existence currently. It’s a bar without a front entrance. You have to know the password. But the beer’s terrible, and it’s laced with ether, which is the real problem. It makes you sick the next morning. And the gin is younger than tomorrow. To be honest, I don’t usually surface until eleven or so. I work nights at the Sun.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done well to come for me,’ she said. ‘And I very much appreciate it.’ She smiled. ‘But it can’t be very good for you if it makes you sick. Don’t the police prowl around looking for drink?’

  ‘The police are the first through the door,’ Andrew said. ‘They’re looking for drink, all right—to drink it. Soon as the sarge gets off duty, he’s down there with us.’

  ‘And how is your mother coping without you?’ Catherine said. Andrew had been worried before he’d left that his mother would miss him.

  ‘There’s the problem, of course. Not well at all. She wants me home, keeps sending job notices from The Times. Awful, really. I suppose I won’t stay here forever.’

  Catherine nodded. ‘It must be hard to be away from her.’

  ‘Oh, goodness me, no. Not for me. But it’s hard on her.’ Catherine knew that Andrew’s older brother had been killed in the war. ‘But you—here you are in New York. And I cannot get over how you’ve grown up.’ The way he said it made her feel heat rising in her throat. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll stop embarrassing you.’ Had she grown up in those months? Perhaps she had. ‘At any rate, I’ve been given strict instructions in relation to you.’

  ‘And what are they?’ she said.

  ‘Well, first was your aunt, who told me she was only letting you come to New York unaccompanied because Ada Mackintosh’s son would be there to watch over you. And she knew I was a gentleman, she said. Then Mr Black told me that if there are any shenanigans in regard to you, I’m to let him know straightaway. He said I’m to be your big brother and if you get into trouble, it will be on my shoulders.’

  ‘And what exactly are shenanigans?’ Catherine said.

  ‘I’m glad you asked, because I asked Mr Black that very question. He said, “Look here, Andy, you know what I�
��m talking about? You young folk get up to all sorts of caper.”’ It was a good imitation of Mr Black. ‘I told him I’d watch over you.’ He became more serious now. ‘And I will, Catherine. You can be sure of that.’

  She returned his gaze. There was the Andrew she knew, back again for that moment. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  She looked out to the street again while Andrew went to order more coffee. New York, more than anything, was intense living, she thought. And there were more women, or at least she noticed them more. Their coats were shorter and their heels higher but it was more than that; they were more confident, more alive.

  Andrew came back to the table. ‘Charlotte Epstein is supposed to come and meet us.’ He looked at his watch. ‘She must be running late. Well, we’ll just have to wait, although I must get the train back to Baltimore by one.’

  ‘I can wait on my own,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘Having just explained to you the many and varied responsibilities I now have for your general welfare, I’m not going to leave you to your own devices in New York.’

  ‘Andrew!’

  Catherine turned to see a tiny bustling woman with dark hair and eyes coming over to their table. She wore a coat to mid-calf, tightly belted in the middle. On her feet were bright red boots. She had a toothy grin.

  ‘Here we go,’ he said to Catherine as he stood to greet the woman. ‘Charlotte, my dear—I have your girl.’

  ‘So you do,’ the woman said, holding out her hand to Catherine. ‘I’m Charlotte Epstein, hon, but just call me Eppy. Welcome to America!’ Her voice was loud but no one seemed to notice.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Catherine said. ‘I didn’t expect you’d be so …’ she wanted to say small but thought better of it, ‘… young.’ She’d assumed that Charlotte would be older, but here she was, a woman in her thirties at most.

  ‘Hah,’ Charlotte Epstein said. ‘What did you expect, an old troll?’ She laughed loudly. ‘So, you guys had your lunch?’