Swimming Home

by Mary-Rose MacColl

  Charlotte Epstein, who had been listening to them talking, smiled. ‘The charge was indecent exposure, if you can believe it. Miss Kellerman gave a great speech in the court about what was needed in order to swim, how you could be pulled under by all those clothes and drown. She said they expected women to go around looking like washing lines.’

  Aileen took a bite of the apple she’d brought with her to training, and then offered Catherine some. She shook her head.

  ‘The judge was livid at the beach police,’ Charlotte said. ‘He threw the case out. They’d never arrest you now, thanks to what Annette Kellerman did.’

  One morning in her fourth week, Mr Handley asked Catherine to remain after training. Charlotte hadn’t gone to work yet, which was unusual, and the two took her into the small office beside the pool. Mr Handley took the chair beside the desk and Charlotte sat behind it, gesturing for Catherine to take the chair that faced her.

  ‘Catherine, as you know, the WSA has decided to send three swimmers to attempt the Channel this year.’

  Catherine nodded.

  ‘And,’ Charlotte continued seriously, ‘we have to consider a number of factors—not just ability, but also seniority and likelihood of success.’

  Mr Handley was silent, though Catherine was aware of him watching her intently.

  ‘We’ve decided to use the Sandy Hook swim to confirm the decision.’

  ‘Yes,’ Catherine said eagerly, thinking they must have decided to let her participate in the first ocean swim.

  ‘But we don’t think you should be in the Sandy Hook team.’

  Catherine stared at Charlotte. She heard the words, but her brain just wasn’t making sense of them. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

  ‘You’re not ready, Catherine,’ Mr Handley said. ‘You need to improve your style and, so far, you haven’t made as much progress as I’d like. In my opinion, as the coach, it would be too risky to allow you to take part in an open-water swim.’

  ‘Risky?’ Catherine said. Were they worried about sharks, crocodiles? Where was the risk?

  ‘Well, we can only do so much to keep our swimmers safe in the water,’ Charlotte said. ‘So, after taking advice from Mr Handley, the board has decided that you shouldn’t swim with the team.’

  Catherine was about to speak, to protest that there would be no risk, when she realised what they meant. They were saying she wasn’t a good enough swimmer. ‘Oh, of course. Oh. I thought … I … of course. I’m sorry. That’s great news. I mean, that you’re sending swimmers to the Channel …’

  Charlotte’s face softened. ‘There will be other years, other attempts. And you’re still so young.’ She put her hand on Catherine’s and patted it lightly. ‘We had enormous trouble in Paris with Helen and Aileen, and I don’t want to go through that ever again.’

  Catherine wanted to pull her hand away from Charlotte’s and tell them to leave her alone. Instead, she sat there with a stupid grin on her face, trying to pretend that she understood, that none of it mattered.

  Mr Handley stood up to leave. He nodded to Catherine then looked at Charlotte, shook his head.

  Charlotte sighed. ‘Catherine, I have many things to balance, as you can well imagine. You are a promising swimmer, and Coach sees that. And you are willing, if not yet able, to master the stroke … But as I say, I have competing priorities. I have to do what’s best for the WSA, what gives us the most chance of a win …’

  But Catherine wasn’t listening. All she was aware of was that she’d failed. She’d been expelled from school because of swimming—and now she’d failed at that. Her aunt had only gone along with the whole idea of her swimming because Mr Black said she would be a champion. She wasn’t a champion. She wasn’t even on the team. She thought she’d found a place here in New York, but it was no place for her.

  ‘It’s because you’re not American,’ Aileen said later when Catherine told her. ‘Imagine if we took a Brit over there and they did the Channel first. We have to have an American.’

  ‘I thought they took all swimmers. Anyway, I’m not a Brit.’

  ‘No, you’re not. And yes, they do take anyone, but not for this. This is the most important thing ever. This is the English Channel. I don’t think they’re scared you’ll lose. I think they’re scared you’ll win. I’ve seen you swim. And I told Eppy; I told her you could beat everyone.’

  Catherine didn’t believe Aileen. She didn’t even think Aileen believed Aileen. But it was awfully sweet of her to say it.

  22

  IT WAS LATE. LOUISA WAS SITTING AT THE TABLE IN THE dining room. She’d been held up at Harley Street that afternoon, finalising details of the transfer of her patients to the other doctors, and then she’d gone back to the clinic to finish up there. She had papers all over now, things to be handed on or finished before she left the next day. Nellie had gone to bed. The Scotties were on the floor. She should stoke the fire but she’d go to bed herself soon.

  On the table in front of her was the pile of letters she’d collected. And today, Nellie had handed her two more, one addressed to Louisa herself. Nellie had asked Louisa was she planning to take Catherine’s letters to America and give them to the girl. Was she planning to post Catherine’s letters to Australia now?

  ‘Probably,’ Louisa had said.

  ‘You have to,’ Nellie had said. ‘You can’t do this, Louisa. You can’t keep them from her. You said weeks. It’s been months.’

  Louisa had let the time slip by. She should have done something about the letters before Catherine left for America but she hadn’t. She’d even taken them out the night before Catherine embarked, but found her courage failed her. How could she give her these letters? How could she say she hadn’t sent Catherine’s on? Catherine would never forgive her, and the truth was, she’d forgotten Florence and Michael now. She’d been so excited about the trip. She’d been busy at the clinic. She’d been positively bright. It was best now, Louisa thought, to let it go.

  Except for Nellie.

  ‘Those people—I met them,’ Louisa had said to Nellie. ‘They may mean well, Nellie. But they are not Catherine’s future. They are her past. Her future is here with us. Surely you, of anyone, can see that.’

  ‘What do you mean me, of anyone?’

  ‘You lost your family, Nellie, and I know you’ve settled here with me. I know you’ll go on to do something great with your life. And while you would never have wanted to lose the baby, your life now is so much more.’

  ‘What baby?’ Nellie said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘What baby are you talking about?’

  Had Louisa mentioned a baby? Perhaps she had. ‘I meant your brother—the baby of the family,’ she said.

  ‘I swear to God, Louisa, I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. I do. I feel blessed that you saw me and decided to help. But I would give it all up to have just one day with my family. I would give it all up in a minute. So, Louisa, you need to think about what you’re doing to that girl. And that’s all I’ll say on the matter.’

  ‘Well, it just upsets her to hear from them,’ Louisa said, feeling heat rise in her neck. ‘Why do that? She’s not going back there. She needs a chance to start a new life.’

  Catherine had found a place for herself in the clinic before she’d left for America, and Louisa was sure they could get her back to school after this trip. She could finish her formal schooling and go on to university. She might even become a doctor, Louisa had thought, and wouldn’t that be marvellous? Louisa didn’t want to tell her the truth now.

  The swimming still worried Louisa. Black seemed to think Catherine had the makings of a champion. And Louisa could tell that being in New York with other swimmers was doing Catherine a world of good. She’d made a friend, a young diver whose family had been terribly kind. Charlotte Epstein seemed a very good role model for a female swimmer, and Black had made sure Andrew visited every week to look out for Catherine. Her letters to Louisa were bright and full of interest. Swimming mig
ht build Catherine’s confidence just as Black had suggested. He hadn’t visited her yet, Louisa knew, ameliorating any concern Louisa might have had about his motives in regards to Catherine. But, still, where would it lead?

  Louisa found herself thinking about Black, his laugh, low and from his chest, when he saw something that amused him, especially if it was something about the English. Truthfully, she thought of him more often than she’d have liked. She’d see him again soon. And there was probably nothing but childish fancy in her thoughts of him. But still, that smile. He’d been true to his word too. He’d funded an upgrade to the Princes Square facilities—additional bathrooms, an extension of the surgical ward, a new waiting room—to meet all of the requirements the inspector had listed. They’d passed the inspection without qualification.

  The two letters joined the other six Louisa had in front of her. She sat there looking at the envelope addressed to herself and then opened the letter.

  Dear Dr Quick,

  We have not heard from Catherine in three months, and the last letter she sent asked why I had not written. I can only assume she is not getting our letters for some reason. You cannot think that we would ever do Catherine harm.

  I encouraged her to leave the island, and I trusted you because you are Dr Harry’s sister.

  My son Michael and Catherine are very close to one another. He is very distressed not to hear from Catherine, and worried. I am worried about both of them.

  Please let me know that Catherine is all right.

  Sincerely,

  Florence Cunningham

  Louisa would have liked to take the moral high ground. How dare Florence suggest that Louisa was doing something untoward? But she was doing something untoward, so the moral high ground would remain unoccupied on this occasion. Louisa knew she couldn’t easily recover the situation now. At any rate, Catherine had moved on. She’d done exactly as Louisa thought she would, and she was much better for it.

  Florence wasn’t giving up, though.

  It was the second letter, which Louisa also opened, that gave her pause.

  Dear Catherine,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing because I am worried about Michael. He went down to Cairns a few weeks back with a group of boys from here, John and Charlie Mackie, who you know, and some others who’ve come these last months from Badu. He’s been staying with my sister but I got news from her daughter that he’s left there and they’re not sure where he is.

  He has been trying to get work. The thing is, he wants to come to you. He’s worried because we haven’t heard. I don’t like him being in town by himself, and I’m thinking if you just wrote and said you were all right, he might come home. My sister said there’s a bad group of boys he’s been spending time with. Michael’s a good boy, and I don’t want any more trouble.

  I remain your loving Florence

  The notion that Michael would come to London worried Louisa. She would have to tell the truth about the letters. She’d never considered they’d go to such lengths. He must hold Catherine in high regard, Louisa thought. Perhaps it wasn’t as she’d assumed. Perhaps he wasn’t taking advantage.

  Never mind. Once Louisa was there with Catherine in America, she was sure, this would be so much easier. She put the letters back in the drawer, where they belonged. There was nothing for it now; she’d have to go on as she’d started.

  23

  ON THE FRIDAY MORNING, CATHERINE WAS IN THE CHANGE room when she heard voices in the office, Charlotte’s and another. Aileen had left to go to school and there was only Catherine and two other girls still getting dressed.

  ‘It appears you may have overestimated your charge,’ Eppy was saying, her lovely loud voice clear through the thin wall. ‘Coach says she doesn’t take instruction.’

  She couldn’t hear what the other voice, a man’s, much quieter, said in reply.

  ‘Swimming is swimming,’ Eppy said.

  ‘I want her to stay here,’ Catherine heard, the male voice raised now. It was familiar. Oh, my goodness, she thought. It was Mr Black. For no reason she understood, Catherine felt her heart pumping in her chest. She leaned towards the wall to listen harder.

  ‘Of course,’ Charlotte said. ‘I understand.’

  ‘And I think my contributions buy me the right to a view.’ It was Mr Black, she was sure now, and they were talking about Catherine. Oh, how awful. Eppy had told him Catherine wasn’t a good swimmer. He’d spent all that money bringing her here for nothing.

  When Catherine came out of the change room, Charlotte came out and beckoned her to come into the office. There was Mr Black sitting on the chair by the desk.

  He stood but didn’t move to embrace her. ‘Catherine,’ he said, gruffly, and nodded. ‘How are you?’

  Catherine found herself pleased to see him and yet embarrassed he’d found out her swimming was not as good as he’d hoped. He looked disappointed, reminding her suddenly of her father when she did something wrong.

  ‘Mr Black.’ She was on the verge of tears.

  ‘I hear you’re not swimming at your best. You make me look like a liar. Or a fool.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Black,’ she said, keeping her tears in check as best she could. She looked at Eppy. ‘I’m doing my best, though. Eppy, I’m doing my best, aren’t I?’

  Eppy nodded. ‘Of course you are. Manfred, that’s not what …’

  ‘You know I brought you here,’ he said to Catherine. ‘You know I’m counting on you.’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Miss Epstein tells me you’ve been complaining about the tank.’

  ‘I’m just not used to a small space,’ she said.

  ‘Well, maybe that’s the problem,’ he said. ‘What if I found you a bigger space? Would that help?’ He came over and stood close to Catherine. Eppy was behind her.

  ‘Yes, I think it would,’ she said as confidently as she could muster.

  He nodded slowly, looked at his watch. He picked up his hat and coat from Charlotte’s desk. ‘Let’s you and I have a little chat now,’ he said to Catherine. ‘Charlotte, I’m sure we’ll be seeing one another. I go back tomorrow but I’ll pop in this evening.’ Charlotte stepped out of the way to let him through. Catherine stood there. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Charlotte, always a pleasure.’

  Charlotte bade Black farewell. Catherine looked behind as she walked along the tank deck with him. Charlotte was standing at the door of the little office, frowning. She looked afraid, Catherine thought.

  When they reached the hotel foyer, Mr Black turned to her. ‘Catherine, I’m sorry if I was too direct with you.’ He looked upset too, Catherine thought. Oh, what a disaster. As if it wasn’t bad enough being left off the team. Now she’d disappointed the person she most wanted to please .

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Black.’ She felt like crying again.

  His face softened. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Don’t be upset. Let’s go somewhere we can talk. Have you had breakfast?’ She shook her head, not trusting her voice right then.

  He took her to the diner across the street from the Touraine. He picked a table in the back and pulled out a chair for her, sat facing her. He called the waitress, ordered his usual toast and eggs and she ordered oatmeal with cinnamon and sugar. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. He looked at her intently. ‘But I’m not used to losing, and I’m not very good at it. And I hope you’re not either.’ He paused, ran his hand over his mouth. ‘I didn’t like them cutting you from the team without talking to me first. Charlotte shouldn’t have done that. I found out quite by accident and I was livid. I’m sorry if I took that out on you. It hadn’t been my intention. I was furious, but not with you.’

  ‘Mr Black, I’m really not as good a swimmer as the others. Charlotte was right …’

  He waved at her to be quiet. ‘I don’t want to hear that talk, you hear?’ he said firmly. ‘Look at you,’ he went on. ‘You have the entire world at your fingertips, girl, and you don’t even see it.’ He gr
abbed her hand.

  She felt so ashamed. ‘Mr Black, I …’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t speak. Let’s just let the swimming worry about itself. All right?’ He let go of her hand. ‘All right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘You may not understand this but I lost someone a long time ago, and you very much remind me of her. I want you to be everything you can, Catherine. Do you understand that?’ He took a breath in, out. Looking at his face, Catherine thought he might be about to cry.

  ‘I think so,’ she said, feeling awfully tender towards Mr Black, who’d been so good to her.

  ‘You’re a great girl.’ He patted her hand again. ‘Now, can you find your way home from here all right?’ His voice was tight with emotion. She nodded. ‘That’s the way.’ He stood and looked at his watch. Their food hadn’t yet arrived. He threw a bill on to the table.

  ‘Louisa is here next week. I’d very much like to take the two of you to lunch at my club.’ He smiled. ‘Swim well. I’ll see you then.’ He stood there a moment more, then he turned and walked away.

  They were sitting in the cafe Andrew had taken her to on her first day in New York. Mr Black had sent him up ‘to check on our champ’, Andrew told Catherine. It was the Monday after Mr Black himself had come to New York. Charlotte had told Catherine she’d be in the Sandy Hook team after all. She was only in the team because of Mr Black, she knew, and Charlotte was angry, Catherine thought. It had been an awful few days. As she’d walked along Twenty-third Street with Andrew, she’d seen the buds on the trees, some with leaves unfolding.

  ‘I don’t really know why I’m here,’ she said.

  ‘Lunch,’ he said.

  ‘I meant in a more fundamental way.’

  ‘New York?’