by Emily Gale
I have the tuppence for my entry tight in my hand. Ma wanted to carry it for me, but I didn’t want to let it go. I know I won’t lose it. The others chatter on about Annette Kellerman in Boston. She was arrested on the beach for wearing the type of bathing suit made for men. It sounds as if America is even more old-fashioned than here. Annette Kellerman is my idol, but I can’t be lost in all that now. I have to stay on track.
This race is one of the first for the season. Our times will count in determining who represents the state at the Australasian championship carnivals to be held in Brisbane in March. I have to win one of my races or at least place close to the winner to have a chance.
‘Look, Fan!’ says Kathleen.
The others are looking out the back of the tram at a man chasing his dog down the street. The dog is running in circles with a string of sausages hanging from its mouth. My sisters all start laughing. Even Ma can’t resist.
‘Run, little dog,’ I call out.
‘Run!’ adds Dewey.
The tram swings around the corner and we lose sight of the dog. Dewey leans against me, her mood all light. ‘I think it’s a sign, Fanny! You’re going to be as fast as that little dog today.’
‘You calling me a dog, Dewey?’ I ask playfully.
‘It’s our stop next, girls,’ says Ma. She seems nervous. She’s clutching her handkerchief and twirling it between her fingers. I’m not used to seeing Ma worry about my swimming.
The brakes of the tram grind against the metal and it pulls up at the stop. I follow my sisters off and take in the sweet warm air. Now that the sun is up, I can tell the day is going to be perfect.
Lavender Bay Baths are my favourite. There’s a wooden tower for the high-diving display and space for many onlookers. And there are funny races and walking the greasy pole. We have to take the steam ferry across from the point, and that’s the best way to arrive.
I squeeze into the corner seat on the outside deck of the ferry. Dewey is with me. The others are inside, out of the wind. We always nab this perch if we can because it’s the best view of the baths and the hill and the people.
‘What will you buy with your winnings?’ asks Dewey.
‘Winnings! Only the men win money, remember. We win things like hairclips and vouchers.’ I grin at Dewey whose hair is coming unclipped and flying behind her in the breeze. ‘Besides, I haven’t won yet.’
‘You will.’
There are thousands of women and young ladies pressed tight in the stands at the baths. There’s a certain feeling in the air as we walk through the crowd. Ma grips my hand tighter than tight. I can feel her skin all rough and worn, and it makes me want to win even more.
Kath and Mary are judging the earlier races and have hurried off to their duties. I’m not on for a bit, so I can watch Dewey in her wading race.
‘Can you come to the dressing room with me?’ Dewey asks.
‘Of course!’
Ma leaves us to go and find our aunt in the stand. And I follow Dewey to the dressing room. My legs are so jittery I could dance my way there.
‘Look, there’s Dorothy!’ Dewey points into the crowd.
Dorothy waves from where she sits in the stand with her family. I wave back enthusiastically. I’m glad Dorothy is here. She’s one of the strongest swimmers around and if I’m going to prove myself then I need to beat swimmers like her. She’s been talking about going professional so she can earn money by winning races, but that would mean she couldn’t swim at the Olympics one day. Not that girls are allowed to swim at the Olympics. I hold a secret hope that one day things will change. But I keep it quiet.
‘Fanny! Keep up,’ shouts Dewey. I skip along the boardwalk to catch up to her. There are just so many people here. I’m wishing now that I listened to Ma and ate my bread and dripping earlier this morning. My stomach is whirling and wriggling like there’s a giant fish in there waiting to get out.
The dressing-room attendants know Dewey and me, so we slip through without any problem. I wait for Dewey in the washroom while she goes through to change. I’ve been trying to talk her into swimming in the proper races, but she says she likes the wading events best because there’s not so much pressure. She says she’s happiest watching and cheering for me. Dearest Dewey.
‘The water’s going to be very chilly today, Fan,’ Dewey says, traipsing out in her costume. The long thick itchy wool hangs loose on her small frame. I tower over her. She has Ma’s body. I have Da’s: strong, muscular and tall.
‘Tie my hair back for me?’ she asks.
I start separating her hair so that I can plait it. It’s not neat like Kathleen would do and she keeps pulling away, making me yank it even more.
‘Ow!’
‘Sorry, but there are knots. You didn’t brush it this morning, did you?’
‘I didn’t have time. I had to sweep out the yard while you were getting ready!’
Guiltily, I try to plait the rest more gently. ‘There. Done!’
She reaches back to feel the job I’ve done. ‘Do you want me to do yours?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘No chance. I like the feel of it floating around my face. Come on. Your race will be over before we even make it into the baths.’
We walk out to the start end of the baths. The noise has started to grow. I lean down and scoop my fingers through the water.
‘You’re right! It’s quite fresh,’ I tell Dewey. ‘Wade fast and you’ll warm up! I’ll be watching from the end.’
I head for the stands. Mina should be around somewhere. And Gladys. Usually we all sit together cheering on the swimmers in the events before us, but today Mina’s performing with her father and her brother in some high-diving exhibition and I’m not sure where she is.
I can’t find Ma either, so I stand close to the water as the gun is fired and Dewey’s race starts. It’s over quickly and Dewey places second, which she’ll be happy with.
‘Second place, might be a sign,’ says a voice behind me and I know it’s Mina.
‘Aren’t you showing off on the diving board?’ I say sharply.
‘Not until after I beat you in the pool!’
I can’t help but laugh, and Mina joins in. It’s always like this before a race. Mr Wylie thinks it helps us get in the mood for a competition, but Ma doesn’t like it at all. She worries it’s unladylike.
‘Is Gladys here too?’ I ask.
‘Somewhere, no doubt. She’s not going to miss this race.’
It’s been the five of us forever: Gladys, Doris, Dorothy, Mina and me. There are others too but we are the most serious.
‘Watch Dorothy today, especially in the 50 yards. Her times are improving,’ says Mina. ‘Dad says she’s a strong contender.’
Mina’s father is a champion long-distance swimmer and he thinks he can recognise champions just by watching them train. He’s been right before about some of the swimmers who train at Wylie’s Baths, and I know Dorothy is a threat today.
‘I’m going to change,’ I tell Mina.
‘I’ll come too,’ she says.
I wish she wouldn’t. I’d like five minutes to myself, just to get my head right, but Mina trots along beside me saying hello to people as we pass the crowds. She’s a favourite here. They’ve been watching her perform tricks with her hands tied together underwater since she was five.
Nobody much notices me. That’s all about to change.
Mina chatters at me while we pull on our bathing suits, but I ignore her. She’s used to me being silent before a race.
I remain quiet while we walk to the other end of the baths. Our race is up next. Mina starts chatting to the other bathers, but I stare down into the water. It’s murky and dark.
We bunch together on the edge of the platform waiting for the gun. I’m wedged between Mina and Dorothy. The crowd is hushed, like they know it’s going to be an exciting race.
I tug my long hair back and smooth it with my hands. Then I focus on the water in front of me. I need a neat dive an
d strong strokes. I need to get right out in front from the start, because coming from the back can be hard.
I take one big deep breath to steady myself.
The gun fires.
We dive. I come up in front and start hard, arms and legs powering through the water. Each time I turn my head for air, I hear the cheer from the crowd. My eyes sting with the salt but I force them open, knowing if I close them for a second I’ll swim off track and bump into one of the others. I need to swim straight. It’s the fastest.
I can sense Dorothy at my shoulder. She’s inching up closer. Mina too. But I’m still in front. My legs feel strong, like they could kick forever.
The end of the baths is close now. I keep stroking fast. But Dorothy’s gaining on me. Head down, head up, breathe in, breathe out. My arms loop over and into the water propelling me forward. Twenty strokes left. Fifteen. Dorothy’s alongside me.
Ten. There’s Mina. She’s close too.
Five. I can do this. My fingers are reaching for the wall. I kick the water hard.
I glide in, slam the edge.
But Dorothy and Mina are there first.
I’ve lost.
Cat
7
Wagging
I’ve been lying awake for ages, unable to switch off my brain. Now I finally feel like I could drift back to sleep, but Maisy’s cheeping chicken is a major threat.
Please let me sleep, chicken…
Cheep-cheep! Cheep-cheep! Cheep-cheep!
I squeeze my eyes shut just before Maisy turns on the light. Despite an early night and no salty cold potato snacks…I just can’t get up.
Maisy gets ready in silence. No sweet voice urging me to get out of bed and no accusations either (good, she hasn’t noticed that I used the last of her strawberry shampoo). The door creaks as she leaves.
Dad and Maisy will be in the kitchen by now, sharing a pot of tea and agreeing about things. Those two are always agreeing about things.
Next thing I know, Dad flings the curtains open as if it’s not 5 am and pitch black outside.
‘Morning, sleepyhead!’
I make a snap decision.
‘Morning, Dad,’ I whisper in a scratchy voice. Dad tilts his head so our faces are aligned.
‘Come on, Cat, five minutes until we leave.’
‘I’m not well.’ I pretend it’s hard to swallow.
He bends closer.
‘My throat hurts. And my head,’ I say.
‘You can’t miss training, Cat.’
I’m crushed that his first thought is training and not my health. I’m faking, but that’s not the point.
‘I just don’t want to push it, Dad. State trials and everything.’
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve never missed training.
Maisy comes in wearing her school tracksuit, hair pulled back in a slick ponytail. ‘You’re still in bed? Coach hates it when we’re late.’
I ignore her and put all my energy into making my eyes look watery while Dad looks deeply into them.
‘You do look a bit off,’ he says. ‘Stay in bed today. We need her at her best for the next heats, don’t we, Maise? I’m going to the wholesalers after I drop Maisy at training. Will you be all right here by yourself?’
‘I think so.’
‘Okay, love. And if you feel better later could you fold the clean washing like you were meant to? I have to open the shop. I can’t do everything, Cat.’
‘Sorry, Dad. I promise.’
I’d forgotten about that: instead of doing my jobs after dinner, I hid the laundry basket behind the sofa. I’m passionately against housework.
Once they’ve gone I slide under the doona, stretch my toes and smile because I got away with it. Time to myself on dry land is rare. I reach under the bed for my phone to check the group-chat of my friends in Orange.
Forty-two messages while I was sleeping! I scroll too quickly to take them in, feeling more left out than ever. My friends don’t have to get up at 5 am so they message at night. It means we never really have a conversation. If I reply now they’ll hate me for waking them up.
A truck stops outside the shop and loudly empties the recycling bins. It’s 5.15 am, and there’s just me and the rubbish collectors. What am I doing? Why would I skip training when I just swam the fastest in my heat and might be going to State?
Can anyone tell me why I don’t care anymore?
New disaster. Message from Lucy at 6 am: Don’t forget my copy of Romeo and Juliet. And no faking this time cos I’m not falling for it, dirtbag! X
I borrowed Lucy’s copy because I’ve lost mine. She hates not having her books for school so I’ll have to go in. I get dressed and write a note for Dad so he doesn’t worry when he gets home. Feeling a bit better. Went to school so I don’t get behind.
There’s still plenty of time so after that I make a huge breakfast: scrambled eggs and spinach on toast. It is a masterpiece. Halfway through eating it I take a photo and send it to Lucy, with a promise that I’ll bring Romeo and Juliet to school.
Somehow the kitchen has reached a new level of gross and there’s a puddle of raw egg on the floor. I try to clean it but the cloth is dripping wet with bits of parsley stuck in it and the egg refuses to let go of the tiles. It stretches like snot. This mess is too much, I don’t have the skills!
I picture the swimming pool: the squad doing laps like they’re supposed to. Even if I don’t want this scholarship, the thought of failing is terrifying. Coach is always telling us that the minute we lose focus, we’re finished. I don’t want that either.
It’s still two and a half hours until school starts. When I reach for my phone and click on Instagram, the first image that comes up gives me a genius idea: the beach. Girls at school talk about Coogee Beach all the time—it’s meant to be gorgeous. The bus that runs between home and school goes near it.
It sounds funny but this could literally be the solution. Can’t I be in charge of my own training? I haven’t seen the ocean one single time since we moved here—Mum and Dad have been too busy setting up our new life.
My thoughts take shape: a training session in the ocean. That way I don’t have to feel so guilty for wagging. And the ocean is supposed to be good for stress!
I’m excited for the first time in ages. Making a decision for myself gives me the kind of goosebumps I used to get before a race. All of my stuff is piled on the floor next to my bed. I shove everything into my schoolbag: keys, phone, Opal card, purse, towel, cozzie, sunscreen, Romeo and Juliet, calculator, laptop.
Cat & Fan
8
Wylie’s
Cat
I get off the bus three stops before school and follow the sign to the beach. Is this still a good idea? My head’s a mess again. One minute I’m thinking that Mum and Dad would flip if they knew I was going to the beach alone. Next I’m thinking that they’d be proud of me for taking responsibility for my training schedule.
Then there’s the fact that I’ve got my worst subject for first period: History. Sorry, boring! Let’s leave the past in the past. This seems like even more reason to have an adventure before I go to school. Then I’ll have something interesting to whisper about to Lucy while we pretend to be fascinated by Ancient Greece.
I walk to the top of a hill and spy a patch of sand. Beyond it is the water. Something about the sight of the waves and the horizon makes me fizz inside. Back home in Orange we had Lake Canobolas for swimming or paddle-boarding, but some of my friends thought the water was gross, and if there’s no rain the lake dries up. Even from a distance, I’m falling under the ocean’s spell.
The beach is dotted with people sunbaking. A group of older teenage boys is playing volleyball and I wander a bit closer. They’re bare-chested and I suppose not bad looking, throwing themselves around the sand like puppies.
‘You playing, shorty?’ yells one. They’re looking at me! I hurry up a shady path under gums and conifers that runs parallel to the beach, and I can hear them l
aughing. I’m not even short, I’m just thirteen. Stupid rude boys. I’m embarrassed to swim in front of them now.
From the top of the path, the ocean is wide and beautiful. But can I really imagine taking on those waves? Through the trees I see a sign: ‘Wylie’s Baths. Open every day of the year.’ An ocean pool—I know what that is—a bit of ocean walled off to keep the waves out.
I go down some concrete stairs past a white building and a statue of a girl looking out over the water. A sudden shiver makes me trip on the next step, but luckily I recover without anyone seeing. Mum always says ‘someone’s walked over your grave’ when I shiver. But Lucy told me it means you’re either cold or feeling extreme emotion, even if you don’t know it. It’s definitely not cold today.
There’s no one else around. All I can hear are waves. At the bottom of the stairs there’s a turnstile and it’s four dollars to get in. I put the coins on the counter and a woman waves me through.
The baths are way down below. Like I thought, it’s a piece of the ocean bricked off into the shape of a swimming pool. Up on wooden stilts is a pavilion with changing rooms and a cafe.
In the changing room I quickly strip off and put on my sports bikini. This is the first chance I’ve had to wear it, seeing as I spend most of my life in a navy blue one-piece with compulsory school swimming cap.
It’s got a lilac and blue boho print with a high-neck top and racing back so it’s perfect for training, no matter what the squad rules are. Tam gave it to me as a goodbye present.
I leave my uniform on the bench but I need somewhere to stash my schoolbag because it’s got my laptop and phone inside. There aren’t any lockers so I bring it with me down the steep wooden steps to the water.
There are rocks that surround the baths and I sit down on one to find my goggles, which always magically make their way to the bottom corner of my bag. My hand touches something cold and I take it out along with my goggles. It’s the old stopwatch that I was staring at in bed. I must have scooped it up with all my things. That long, thin timer hand is still spinning anticlockwise. What did Maisy do to it? It doesn’t tick seconds; it’s faster and smoother. It glides. The strange thing is that I’m already in a trance, like last night: a stopwatch you can’t stop watching.
