The Lido

by Libby Page

  “Hello, you,” says Rosemary, leaning to stroke the dog’s ears. It puts two paws on her knees and wags its tail vigorously.

  “Stella, get down!” shouts its owner. The dog jumps off and wanders away to sniff a gnarled tree trunk on the edge of the path.

  “Sorry about that,” says the owner. Rosemary shakes her head and smiles. The man and his dog walk away over the hill and Rosemary is alone again.

  She has been here all morning. When she first arrived the park was thick with mist that clung to her coat as she veered off the path and walked through the grass. It was a slow walk to the top of the hill and she fell heavily onto the bench once she finally reached it.

  By now the sun is up and shining on the lido at the bottom of the hill. She watches it turning the brick building golden terra-cotta in the morning light, remembering. If she closes her eyes she can see the still blue water beyond the walls. In her mind she walks through the doors to the lido and sees George standing on the decking. He looks up at her from the pool’s edge, waiting for her to reach him so that they can hold hands and jump in together.

  She opens her eyes and looks down at the quiet building. The old tree is still there at one corner but it is missing a branch; it never grew back after she and George broke it climbing over the wall. She remembers the splintering of the wood and showering of leaves and how much it made them both laugh. The sound of George’s laughter rattles her heart.

  From her seat on the bench she can see her whole life in front of her. There is the path that she walked down with her schoolmates, trudging in the rain before jumping into the water in their raincoats. She looks across to the other side of the park where a bonfire burned on VE Day, where the teenagers found their freedom and she found her future in a scruffy face with pink cheeks and a straight nose. Not far from where she sits is the tree where she and George practiced their handstands and felt like the first people to have seen the world from that way round and to have felt the stomach-dropping excitement of falling in love. It is the same tree they stood in front of on their wedding day, his arms tightly around her, her face turned toward his and the bright sun.

  Another dog walker passes by and nods his head at her. She hardly notices him as she stares down the hill at the lido. She thinks about the cool water and the pair of mallards sending ripples across its surface. She sees the clock and the snack shop where George bought her tea on their first date. She sees the old diving board, now long since gone, and George diving like a bird. He barely breaks the surface of the water as he disappears underneath. When he bursts back up to the surface he is smiling the way he always smiled at her.

  “Rosy,” he says. “My Rosy.”

  Beyond the lido are the rooftops of Brixton and in her mind she walks down the familiar streets. She walks past her flat, looking up at the tall building and the lavender pots on the balcony. She pauses at the market and outside George’s old shop, remembering it filled with crates of vegetables and the sound of his voice.

  She goes a little farther, and then the city stretches away out of her grasp. The horizon is jagged with buildings and glass tower buildings that reflect the light. They look a million miles away, because this is all that matters—this view from the bench down the park to the lido.

  “It’s over,” she says aloud.

  A jogger turns and looks at her. Rosemary looks like she is crying, but perhaps her eyes are just watering from the sunlight. The jogger takes a deep breath and pushes on up the hill and over the other side, leaving Rosemary alone with her view.

  CHAPTER 64

  When Kate wakes on the fourth day she sits up and reaches for her clothes next to the yoga mats and dresses quietly. The lido is still and the sun streams in through the window. She looks out at the wildflowers on the other side, the red heads of the poppies floating above the cornflowers and tall grass. She looks beyond the flowers into the park, and that is when she sees Rosemary at the top of the hill.

  “Jay,” she says, gently shaking his sleeping body. He stirs and sits up, rubbing his face and kissing her on the cheek.

  “Is it the police? Is the court order here?” he says, looking around him. But the lido is empty and still.

  “No, look,” says Kate, pointing out of the window and up the hill. He spots Rosemary sitting on the bench.

  “What do you think she’s doing there?” he asks.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s good. I think it might be over.”

  Saying the words out loud sends a pain ripping through her chest. Kate knew the end would come but didn’t think it would still hurt this much.

  Jay wraps an arm around her shoulders.

  “Maybe it’s time to leave,” he says quietly. “Why don’t you go and see her?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Not yet. I can’t leave just yet.”

  “Okay. Shall I go?”

  Kate pauses then agrees. He dresses and together they pull aside the tables and chairs until there is a path to the front doors. Kate finds the key and unlocks them.

  “I won’t be long,” he says, kissing her.

  “Okay.”

  Kate opens the door and the sunlight comes streaming in. She watches Jay walk into the park, then closes and locks the door, pulling the tables back in front of them. Back in the studio she sits by the window, watching Jay walking up the hill. When he reaches Rosemary he sits next to her.

  They sit for a long time, talking and looking down the park. To calm herself, Kate imagines she is swimming.

  The park appears to be empty apart from Jay and Rosemary and a jogger who is now looping around the far side and heading down toward Herne Hill. Eventually Kate sees Jay stand up and reach for Rosemary’s hand. He helps her up and they then walk side by side down through the grass and toward the lido.

  Kate stands, too, and runs to the window, watching them. Rosemary and Jay walk slowly toward her, until Rosemary is standing just on the other side of the glass.

  Rosemary places her hands up to the glass and Kate puts hers up, too, pressing their palms together through the window.

  “It’s okay,” shouts Rosemary through the glass. “It’s over.”

  Rosemary starts to cry and Kate does, too. Because she knows from Rosemary’s voice that “It’s over” means it isn’t.

  Rosemary is holding a copy of the Evening Standard in her hand. She unfolds it and presses it up to the glass. Kate looks at her own picture staring back at her. “London Journalist Stages Sit-In to Save Brockwell Lido” reads the headline. The article Kate wrote yesterday is printed underneath.

  “Come outside!” shouts Rosemary.

  “The police aren’t there?”

  Rosemary shakes her head.

  “It’s just me.”

  Kate runs down the corridor to the reception area and pulls apart the barricade of tables and exercise equipment. Once there is a clear path to the door she unlocks it and steps out into the warm sun.

  Kate passes Jay waiting by the door and carries on running toward the old woman standing by the bench, the old woman who has become her friend.

  “It’s over,” Rosemary says as Kate gets closer. “We’ve won.”

  Then the two women open their arms and hug each other tightly.

  Kate cries, realizing she has done what she didn’t truly believe she could do when she first met Rosemary: she has helped. And Rosemary cries, too, thinking about George and all her memories that fill her up like water in the pool. As long as she has her lido, he will always be with her.

  “Tell me what they said,” says Kate eventually, wiping her eyes and stepping away. They sit next to each other on the bench, arms linked together as Rosemary tells Kate that she received a voice mail from Tori that morning saying they wanted to advertise. They want their brand name written on the bottom of the pool and the price they’re paying for it is enough to keep the lido open. They have already spoken to the council who accepted the offer. After receiving the voice mail, Rosemary had immediately
called Ahmed, who was on the phone to Tori now, talking through the details.

  Then Rosemary plays Tori’s voice mail for Kate.

  “It seemed a good opportunity. With all the press that the lido’s had recently, this would get us the right kind of coverage. So it makes business sense. But most importantly it just makes sense. We were very moved by you, Rosemary. Thank you for sharing your story with us.”

  “You did it,” says Kate, looking at Rosemary proudly. Her eyes are shining.

  “Oh, I didn’t do it alone. Ahmed was wonderful yesterday. And when they called this morning they said your article in the Guardian helped them to make their decision. They want to ‘capitalize on the goodwill’ I think is how they put it.”

  “But what about Paradise Living?” asks Kate, a frown starting to appear on her face, as she remembers the catch in Ahmed’s plan: the investors who had already put down an offer to buy the lido.

  Rosemary shakes her head.

  “They were due to exchange contracts today, but when the council members heard about the advertising offer they changed their mind. Apparently there has been some problem with asbestos being found in one of Paradise Living’s new block of flats, too—did you not see the story in this morning’s Brixton Chronicle?”

  Kate shakes her head. “Who wrote the article?” she asks.

  Rosemary pulls a copy of the local paper from her bag and shows Kate the story. The byline to the article reads “Phil Harris.”

  “So we did it?” asks Kate, looking back up at Rosemary, meeting her blue eyes that are full of happiness.

  “We did it,” replies Rosemary. And then she wraps her arms around Kate again.

  “Thank you,” Rosemary says as she holds her. Kate holds her back and doesn’t let go. The two stand in the sunshine and hold each other like they have both just come home. After a while Jay breaks the silence, walking over to them and pointing.

  “Look who’s coming,” he says.

  Frank and Jermaine, Hope, and Ellis and Jake. And Ahmed in the back swinging his arms confidently, looking taller. For once he isn’t thinking about his exams. The group surrounds Rosemary and Kate, smiling and laughing. Hugs all around. Even Sprout tries to join the embrace. When they let her go Kate spots Geoff and hands him the keys from her pocket.

  “I think these are yours,” she says.

  “Thank you,” he says, taking the keys from her. “I’m certainly glad to have these back. Thank you. I mean it, thank you so much.”

  “I think there is just one last thing to do,” says Rosemary once the group has settled.

  “Swim!”

  “Excellent idea,” says Hope, holding up her swimming bag.

  Together they troop into the lido, walking past the dismantled barricade of tables and chairs and down the corridor. Kate looks into the yoga room as she passes it, the mats and towels still piled on the floor, reminding her that her nights tucked up against Jay really happened. She reaches for his hand and holds it as they move onto the decking.

  CHAPTER 65

  As the months pass, the lido remains busy, a queue winding its way out into the park most weekends. Inside, the pool is full of all kinds of swimmers. There is the training swimmer who leaves a bottle of water and a watch on the deck and swims carefully timed laps. There is the backstroker, who only seems to be able to swim backward and who knows exactly the number of strokes until the end of the pool so that she never hits her head on the side. There is the splashy swimmer, who gets a lane to himself (maybe he does it on purpose). There is the underwater swimmer, whom you rarely see as she swims most of her lengths close to the bottom of the pool. And then there is Kate, the corkscrew kicker.

  Kate and Rosemary swim their way through the end of the summer and into autumn, pulling their arms through the water where fallen leaves float like boats. Every day they swim in the cold water and every day they sit for a while on the bench outside the lido, waiting for their hair to dry and talking.

  “Same time tomorrow?” says Kate as she stands up to leave.

  “Same time tomorrow,” says Rosemary.

  CHAPTER 66

  The fox makes her way through Brixton, her tail whipping behind her as she runs. Even in the daylight she is not afraid: this is her home and she knows she can come and go as she pleases. She runs along the edge of a school: the playground is busy with children who kick through piles of autumn leaves or pick them up and throw them at each other. In the afternoon she returns to the yard once it is deserted, pilfering dropped sandwich crusts and half-eaten biscuits. Once she has eaten she follows the children as they disperse through Brixton and into the park, making the most of autumn’s last warm weather. Some head straight for the play park; others swing their swimming bags and run toward the lido.

  In the evening she passes by the pubs, music spilling out of them as people open and close doors to step outside and smoke. As they stand around outdoor heaters the fox takes the opportunity to raid the bins at the back until a chef comes out with a new pile of rubbish and chases her away.

  At the market the stallholders huddle into their coats in the cold mornings and pull tarpaulin covers over their stalls during the day to hold back the rain. At night the fox runs down the empty street, sniffing for fish heads and bruised fruit in the bins. Around the corner on Station Road the shutters to the archway shops are pulled down—some just closed for the night, others closed for good.

  In the early mornings she runs through the mist in the park, passing a few joggers who begin to wrap up in more layers—starting with jackets and moving to scarves and gloves. Their cold breaths cloud the air in front of them as they run and the smell of bonfire smoke clings to clothes like dew to blades of grass.

  As the fox makes her daily laps of Brockwell Park the trees glow orange, then red, then brown. Leaves drop like brown puddles around the trunks of trees, leaving the branches bare.

  In the lido swimmers tug on their wetsuits to protect them from the cold. The braver ones keep their swimsuits, take deep breaths, and jump.

  CHAPTER 67

  And then winter comes. The restaurants in Brixton Village hand out blankets to customers who sit in their jackets and warm themselves with cocktails and wine. Farther up the street at the cinema a stand collects coats and food for those who have nowhere to go to escape the cold.

  Dog walkers in the park walk faster than they walked in the summer. The tennis courts are empty and the community garden sleeps, waiting for the spring.

  A crowd is gathered at the lido, standing in the café and on the decking.

  “I hear you have a new job,” says Hope to Kate.

  Kate smiles. “Yes, I start next week.”

  “I hear it’s at the Independent!”

  “It’s just a junior journalist role,” says Kate, blushing. But she smiles.

  “That’s still brilliant,” says Frank, who has come over to Hope and Kate, Jermaine at his side.

  “Congratulations, Kate,” says Jermaine. “If you ever need any books for research purposes, you know where to come.”

  “Of course,” says Kate, “to my favorite bookshop.”

  Hope asks them how the shop is doing and they tell her about their plans to hold author talks and feature local authors. As they chat Kate looks across the room. Erin and Mark are here, and her parents, too, and they are currently standing with Jay. The start of a bump is visible beneath Erin’s black dress. She called Kate a week ago to tell her the news and they both cried on the phone. Kate can’t wait to be an aunt.

  She feels herself getting warm as she watches Jay talking with her family. It’s okay though, she thinks. He’ll be okay. He spots her watching and turns to smile at her. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment and then he turns back to the conversation. She pictures heading home with him this afternoon—back to his flat where her clothes now hang next to his in the wardrobe. She knows it has been fast, but when Jay’s flatmate said he was moving out, it seemed like the obvious choice. Closing the door on h
er old house and shouting a final, unanswered goodbye into the corridor was the best feeling. As she locked the door and posted the keys back through the letterbox for her roommates to collect for the new tenant, she felt as though she was locking her Panic inside too. She walked away and didn’t look back.

  Ellis, Jake, Ahmed, and Geoff stand together by the coffee bar talking. Ahmed is partway through his first term at university. He is wearing a new suit that fits him perfectly.

  She doesn’t hear what Hope says the first time; she is lost in watching the people gathered around her.

  “I think it’s time to go out,” says Hope. She places a hand gently on Kate’s elbow.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” says Kate. She looks back across the room.

  Hope takes Kate’s elbow and guides her out of the doors and into the cold air. Jay and her family are waiting for her there and Hope steps back, letting Kate join them. Jay kisses her cheek. Erin reaches a hand out to her; Kate takes it and squeezes, remembering sitting on the side of the pool with her sister and holding her hand then too.

  The crowd gathers on the decking opposite the pool. The water is empty and still, the sky above it gray and full of clouds. The teenage boy is standing with his back to the pool. His shirt is too big for him, the creases still visible across his chest and stomach where it was folded in the packet. His black tie is new too.

  He is holding a sheet of paper. He looks down at it and back at the group. His parents stand on one side, watching him. His mother smiles at him and wishes she could step forward and wrap her arms around him, but she knows he has to do this on his own. Once the group are settled in a semicircle around him, facing the pool, he starts to speak.