‘We’ve just ordered coffee,’ Andrew said. ‘Sit down, for goodness’ sake.’ He got up and took a chair from the next table for her. Andrew had written a story about the Association’s swimmers for the newspaper, he said, ‘which meant I spent a week in Charlotte’s sparkling company.’
She looked at her watch. ‘Can’t stay. I’m on my own lunch break and I hiked up from the courts.’ She sat down anyway and turned to Catherine. ‘I work as a court reporter. Okay, I imagine you’re keen to get swimming.’ She put her hand on Catherine’s arm.
‘I am,’ Catherine said. ‘And I saw the harbour coming in.’
‘Of course, Catherine nearly dived in to swim to shore,’ Andrew said.
Charlotte Epstein laughed again. ‘I heard about you.’ She waggled a finger at Catherine, but she was smiling. ‘The Thames, huh?’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t want to swim in the harbour, my dear. Well, not right at the moment.’
‘Why not?’
‘Too cold. Now, listen, Andrew is going to take you to my apartment, where you’ll be staying. Don’t mind the cats. They won’t hurt you.’
Catherine nodded.
‘And then tomorrow we’ll get up together to go to training. How does that sound?’ She put a set of keys on the table.
‘Wonderful,’ Catherine said. ‘But where do we swim?’
‘Mr Black kindly rents an indoor tank for us. We’ll be back in the open water next month, if you’re still here.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I won’t confuse you now, but the girls are just dying to meet you, and we’ll do a whole lot of lovely things while you’re here.’
‘We must take good care of little Catherine, Charlotte,’ Andrew said.
Catherine didn’t like him describing her as little Catherine. It made her feel like it was a joke about her. ‘I’m hardly little,’ she said curtly.
‘No, you’re not,’ Andrew said. ‘But we still have to look after you. I’ve just finished explaining to Catherine that I have instructions from her aunt explaining exactly what my duties are in relation to her care and supervision. Charlotte, be warned. She is quite difficult, apparently.’ Catherine didn’t like him saying this either. It made her sound badly behaved.
‘I’m with Catherine here, Andy,’ Charlotte Epstein said. ‘She’s not little. What a thing to say. And why we’re picking on little people is beyond me. Catherine, I must go. And I’m off to New Jersey straight after work for a swim meet. I thought of taking you but decided it would be better to wait for the training session in the morning. I left a snack in the icebox and the guest bed is made up.’
‘Thank you so much,’ Catherine said.
‘Thank you, honey. We’re all looking forward to having you at training tomorrow. I’ll wake you at five.’
‘Well, what do you think of your new mistress?’ Andrew said after Charlotte left.
‘She’s lovely,’ Catherine said. ‘And not grumpy like Louisa.’ He laughed but Catherine felt bad immediately she said it. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ she said. ‘Louisa isn’t grumpy. She’s just worried about me. And I’ve certainly given her plenty to worry about.’
Charlotte Epstein’s apartment was on the third floor of a building on West Fourteenth Street that, from the outside at least, reminded Catherine of the apartment buildings she’d seen in London, plain brick with few adornments and pull-up windows onto the street. From the cafe, Andrew had taken her in a taxi and Catherine couldn’t work out the direction with all the high buildings and turns. They were still near the river, she was sure. Andrew said they were at the market end of Chelsea, where he’d been once with Mr Black. He took her suitcase up the three flights of stairs. They left it outside Charlotte’s door and Catherine went back down to the street with him. They said goodbye and then he disappeared into a sea of heads, his own poking up every now and then until he disappeared for good. Well, she thought, standing there on the steps, here I am.
Catherine went back upstairs and let herself in. The front door of the apartment led into a small vestibule that opened into the living room. It was cold inside, although not as cold as the street. There was no fireplace, so Catherine kept her coat on. It was getting late now and she could feel the cold descend for the evening.
Though the apartment was smaller than Louisa’s house, it was sparsely furnished, so it felt quite spacious. There was a plain rug on the parquet floor in the entry, soft electric lights, a sitting room with a couch and two comfy chairs. The cats were both black, one enormous, one not, and in the kitchen Charlotte had left salted biscuits, bread, something called nut butter and cake. In the icebox was a salad.
The sitting room overlooked a building site and beyond, Catherine was sure, were the docks and the river. She opened the window and smelled the air. It wasn’t clean but it was interesting, smoke from engine exhaust, and underneath that the salt and mud of the river. The smell of salt water was so familiar it made Catherine ache for home.
It was a year now since she’d left the island. It seemed so very far away. Michael had been angry about her leaving. He’d told her she should stay, that she owed it to Florence to stay. You’re my sister, he’d said in the last letter she’d had from him, but then he’d forgotten her altogether. And Mr Black, who’d wanted her to come to America, who was her only link to her real family, hadn’t even come to meet her today. Catherine found herself feeling very alone. She took in the smell of the sea, the smell that reminded her of home.
20
IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN SHE HEARD CHARLOTTE EPSTEIN in the kitchen. She got up, dressed quickly and went out, stopping in the bathroom to splash water on her face. The apartment looked different. Catherine wondered if that was because she wasn’t as tired. Or perhaps it only came to life when its owner was in residence. Charlotte was small but she took up space. Her face lit up when she saw Catherine. ‘Aren’t you good to get up without being called? My mother will love you. I’ve been instructed to bring you over there for dinner tomorrow night. Did you sleep well?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Catherine said. ‘Very soundly.’ She felt shy in her pyjamas.
‘I came and looked in on you about ten and you were fast off. That’s good. But you didn’t have your dinner. Have some oatmeal now and then we’ll head off to the pool.’
Catherine sat at the little table in the kitchen, adorned with a red-checked cloth and salt and pepper shakers shaped like cats.
‘You like it here?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Catherine said. ‘Thank you, it’s lovely.’
‘My father liked that it’s not far from the courts. My mother liked that it was three floors up.’ Charlotte smiled. ‘But I like that if you look around the corner you can see Lady Liberty. Now, I’ll have to go to work after swimming but one of the girls will help you find your way back here. You can stop at the markets if you like. I’ll show you where they are on the way. Do you need some money?’
‘My aunt went to the bank to get American money for me before I left.’
‘Good. We can buy you a subway ticket and you can get anything else you might need at the markets later. Don’t worry too much, though. Mr Black has given us more than enough to accommodate you, so don’t be at all concerned about any of that. He’s very excited about you coming.’
After breakfast, Catherine dressed and packed a bag—the swimming suit she’d bought in London, the cap, and a towel. Charlotte was wearing a long skirt and blouse, with a woollen hat over her hair. She had an enormous satchel over her shoulder. She put on mittens at the door to the apartment building, and made Catherine do the same.
The grass crunched under their feet as they walked across a small park. Catherine was glad then that they wouldn’t be swimming in the harbour after all. It should be frozen over, she thought. When she breathed in, the air hurt her lungs. ‘Chilly,’ was all Charlotte said. She’d pulled her scarf up over her mouth.
Morning seemed forever away but the city was already waking up, cleaners in the shops and factories, cafes preparing the day’s meals, bak
ers about to go home, boys with milk or newspapers to deliver. They went down into the subway, Charlotte navigating the maze of dimly lit corridors and stairs effortlessly.
They caught a train that came out of a tunnel and then crossed a bridge—you could just make out the glint of the water and ferry lights beneath them. ‘My grandfather danced across this bridge the day it opened,’ Charlotte told her.
They alighted from the train on the far side of the bridge. It was quieter here. Catherine could hear the heels of Charlotte’s boots click on the sidewalk. ‘Where are we?’ Catherine said.
‘Brooklyn,’ Charlotte said. ‘The pool’s on the next corner.’ They took another right turn down a smaller street.
‘You need to understand that Mr Black is our patron,’ Charlotte had said on the train, ‘and I respect him very much. But we take everyone here, Catherine, good swimmers or poor, so you don’t have to worry about being the best.’ She nodded as if to herself. ‘Frankly, I don’t care if you can hardly swim at all. You can come to the WSA. You won’t be the first swimmer Mr Black has brought to us. And while we want to encourage the champions, we also want everyone to have an opportunity to swim. Anyway, you swam the Thames. Mr Handley says you must be able to do something in the water.’ Catherine had no idea who Mr Handley was.
As they turned the next corner, Catherine saw a dozen young women in long coats with bags slung over their shoulders, waiting outside a three-storey building. They were lit softly by an overhead streetlamp. As she approached, Charlotte called out to them, ‘Hey, gals. You are the best girls in the world. What are you?’
‘The best girls in the world,’ they said in a chorus and then broke into laughter. Catherine smiled along with them, although she wasn’t sure why.
When they reached the group, Charlotte said, ‘Girls, this is Catherine, the one I told you about. She’s come all the way from London to swim with the Women’s Swimming Association. Apparently, she’s going to be our secret weapon.’
‘What about me?’ This was from a small, slim girl with square shoulders, in a long pair of pants and jumper, blonde hair cut short, woollen boots.
‘Well, you’re no secret weapon, Aileen. You’re more like the cavalry.’
The girl, who was more than a head shorter than Catherine, laughed. ‘You tell my father I’m the cavalry, Eppy. He thinks I’m wasting my time.’
‘Your father needs to come and see me, Aileen. I told you that.’
Charlotte Epstein rummaged in her bag for her keys, then opened the front door to the building. It was warmer inside the foyer. There was a sign on the wall that said HOTEL TOURAINE. There were lounge chairs and lamps on one side and a front desk, unattended now.
‘I’m Aileen Ryan,’ the small girl said to Catherine, and smiled. ‘Swimmer or diver?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Catherine said.
‘Are you a diver, or just a swimmer?’ Aileen said more slowly.
‘What do you mean, “just a swimmer”, Aileen?’ Charlotte said. ‘Swimming is plenty good.’
‘I’m a swimmer, I think,’ Catherine said. ‘I don’t even know what diving is.’
Aileen smiled. ‘You know, from a board into a tank.’ She gestured with her hand.
‘What’s a tank?’ Catherine said.
‘Where do you swim then?’ Aileen said.
‘The sea,’ Catherine said.
‘You’re from London?’
‘Yes, but before that, Australia. I lived on an island. In London, I didn’t swim very much.’
They’d gone through the lobby and were walking along a corridor.
‘We swim in the sea too,’ Aileen said. ‘Just not at the moment.’ ‘On the island, you swim year round,’ Catherine said.
‘Keep moving, girls,’ Charlotte said. ‘Mr Handley doesn’t like you to run late, and you’ll all catch cold and your parents will blame me.’
They followed Charlotte down the narrow corridor to a stairwell. They went down two flights and emerged into a hot, low-ceilinged room with a giant bath along its length.
Catherine stared at it. ‘What’s that smell?’ she asked Aileen. It was something between rotting oranges and kelp.
‘Chlorine,’ Aileen said. ‘It’s what they use to keep the tank clean.’
‘Is the water warm?’ Catherine said.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Aileen nodded. ‘Hey, girls,’ she said to the others. ‘Catherine is all the way from Australia and she’s never swum in a tank.’
Two girls came over to them. ‘I’m Meg Ederle,’ one said, ‘and this is my sister Trudy.’ Trudy nodded. ‘She don’t hear so good,’ Meg said. ‘You never swum in a tank?’
Catherine shook her head. She was nervous, she realised. She was thinking of Darcy. But these girls were nothing like Darcy.
‘Trudy don’t like the tank either,’ Meg Ederle said.
Trudy smiled, a lovely, open smile, Catherine thought. This was Gertrude Ederle, Catherine realised, the nineteen-year-old who planned to swim the English Channel.
Their accents were all the same and all different. Meg Ederle sounded almost like an East Ender, but with a twang and something else. German, Catherine learned later; Meg and Trudy’s father, who often came to training, was German. There were five girls in the family, and three of them were swimmers.
Aileen’s accent was more subtle, only apparent on certain words. ‘Trudy’s the second youngest in our team,’ Aileen said as she led Catherine to the change room. ‘How old are you?’
‘Fifteen,’ Catherine said. ‘Sixteen this year.’
‘Well, you’re the new youngest then—of the advanced swimmers, I mean. There’s lots of younger ones in the junior team. Trudy’s nineteen, I’m eighteen.’ The girls were all stripping to put their suits on. They wore the new style, woollen bathers cut off at thigh level with straps over their shoulders, rather than sleeves. Catherine’s suit was more modest.
‘Eppy doesn’t swim?’ Catherine said, noticing that she hadn’t joined them in the change room.
‘Not competition. She started the WSA. She’s famous.’
‘We got to be the best,’ another girl said.
‘The very best,’ still another said.
‘My aunt thinks swimming might be a waste of time,’ Catherine said. ‘I hope she meets Eppy.’
‘My father hates swimming too. Don’t worry about it,’ Aileen said.
‘And do you know Mr Black?’ Catherine said.
Aileen shook her head. ‘Do you live with your aunt?’ she asked.
‘In London, yes.’
‘Where are your parents?’
‘My mother died when I was little, and my father last year,’ Catherine said.
‘You’re an orphan, like Anne.’
‘Anne?’
‘In Anne of Green Gables, the book. You haven’t read it?’
Catherine shook her head.
‘Her parents have died and she’s in an orphanage and these people adopt her. They’d meant to adopt a boy so he could help on the farm, but they keep her, even though she’s a lot of trouble, and then she goes to school and meets her best friend. She has red hair like yours, only she hates it. Your hair is beautiful.’
Catherine’s hair was shoulder-length now. ‘Well, like Anne of Green Gables, I don’t exactly like it,’ she said. ‘It makes me stand out in a crowd. And at school …’ She didn’t finish the sentence. She hadn’t met a best friend. ‘I think I might be about as much trouble for my aunt as Anne was.’
‘Nah, you’re not trouble,’ Aileen Ryan said. ‘I have a special sense for such matters.’
When they went back outside, Charlotte Epstein was standing next to a compact man in shirtsleeves and a vest, with thinning silver hair and a neatly trimmed silver moustache.
‘Here she is,’ Charlotte said, smiling at Catherine. ‘Catherine, this is our esteemed coach, Mr Louis de Breda Handley. Mr Handley, may I introduce you to our visiting swimmer, Catherine Quick.’
The man greeted Catherine for
mally, bowing and taking her hand. ‘You will wait here,’ he said, ‘while I get the other swimmers started on their routines. And then we’ll get properly acquainted. Is that all right?’ Catherine nodded.
She watched as he went and spoke with each of the swimmers before they started. They swam in four rows, Catherine noticed, different strokes, two on their backs, a few doing frog kicks, four along one wall kicking their legs, and another two, Aileen and Trudy, swimming a crawl.
After a few minutes more, the coach returned.
Standing there in her suit, Catherine felt self-conscious as Mr Handley looked her up and down.
‘You need some muscle to swim,’ he said. ‘May I?’ He brought her hands forward. ‘Flex.’
She flexed her arms.
‘Here,’ he said, grabbing her upper arm. ‘You need some muscle. But let’s get you swimming. The muscle will come.’
He led her over to the tank. They had a section to themselves, roped off from the others.
The coach gestured to the water, and Catherine jumped in. It was like getting into a warm bath. She began swimming. He walked along the pool deck beside her. She could see his pant legs each time she turned to breathe.
She finished a length and stopped.
The coach was frowning. ‘Well, you have a style I’ve never seen,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Watch Aileen there.’ Catherine looked across towards the other swimmers. ‘Do you see that we kick six beats to the stroke and bring our arms up high?’
She nodded, although she didn’t know what he meant about the kick. ‘You only do two beats to the stroke, or perhaps four. Did you know that?’ He used his fingers like kicking legs. ‘You’ll be faster when you learn to do six, like this—’ kicking his fingers faster ‘—and when you can get your arms higher.’ He made windmills with his arms.
For the rest of the session, Catherine had to kick her legs without using her arms. She didn’t enjoy it at all, the smelly water, the small space, the other swimmers, and her kicking seemed to get her nowhere. It was nothing like swimming at all. Before she knew it the session was finished, and Charlotte and Mr Handley called her over.
Swimming Home Page 18
