The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society

by Barbara Zitwer

  Ian didn’t smile. “It’s a small town, Joey. The Douglasses and the Brides go way back. And suddenly, out of the blue, men who’ve been supporting their families are having to close up shop and go to work for – someone who barely speaks English.”

  “That’s not true, Ian, come on.” Joey had a sip of her wine and spooned several mussels onto her plate.

  The silence was uncomfortable for several moments. They ate slowly and thoughtfully, not speaking.

  “Let me ask you something,” Joey finally said.

  “Fire away.”

  “If you had been in charge of preserving and restoring Stanway, if it had been up to you to make the decision –” Joey leaned forward, hoping Ian would catch her drift. If he did, he didn’t let on. “Would you have been confident that Douglass or Bride could handle the job?”

  Ian sat back in his chair. “On their own?”

  “Or working with sub-contractors, either way. Would you have entrusted a job of this scale to them?”

  Ian looked away, uncomfortable at being put on the spot.

  “Please,” Joey said. “I value your opinion, Ian. If I’m making a mistake here, I really need to know before it’s too late.”

  Ian let out a long sigh. “You’re not making a mistake. Around here, he probably is the best man for the job. But people still feel bad for Luke and Harry.”

  “I understand,” Joey whispered as Massimo, beaming broadly, appeared at the door and hurried over to their table.

  “I’m so sorry. You are eating, I see. Buono!” Massimo slid into his seat. “We have no more business during lunch. Not a word. Bad for the digestion.”

  Massimo unfolded his napkin and laid it in his lap. He took a sip of wine. “We talk only about our lives, everything else but work. Joey, you live in New York, no? Where is your home?”

  “On the Upper East Side. Do you know Manhattan?”

  “Not so much. But I love it! Have you visited, Ian?”

  Ian shook his head.

  “You have a house, or an apartment?”

  “An apartment. It’s the one I grew up in. My mom died a while ago. My father remarried and moved to Florida.”

  Massimo made a sad face. “So you are all alone in the city? But you have brothers? Sisters, no?”

  “My work keeps me pretty busy.”

  Massimo nodded, smiling. He seemed to find this unusual, if not a little odd, but professional decorum prevented him from asking more personal questions. He nodded, glanced at Ian for several moments, then back at Joey.

  He served himself some mussels then passed the plate around. “So delicious,” he said. “I am reminded of my honeymoon on Lago di Garda. Now there is a place you both must visit!”

  Chapter 10

  Joey pulled closed the heavy front door and locked it. She had already put in a good day’s work and the long lunch had left her feeling full and sleepy. Tempted as she was to go to bed for a nap, she knew she would wake up groggy and grumpy. She decided to go for a run.

  She glanced up at the low, grey sky. The cold in England felt different to the cold in New York. She wondered if this was because in New York, she was always in and out of cabs, or sheltered from the worst of the winds by the tall midtown buildings. In any case, the cold here felt damp, penetrating. She took a deep breath and set off at a warm-up pace.

  She felt a little guilty leaving Tink behind again, but she’d already taken her out twice today and she wanted to be alone. There was so much to think about: all the subjects that she, Massimo and Ian had discussed during their lunch. Running had always sorted things out for her, without her even being aware that it was happening. Maybe today, it would help her sort out all the conflicting feelings she was having toward Ian. He could be so negative and sarcastic, yet he clearly had a sense of humour. She often felt resentment coming her way, but once in a while, he’d make a comment that suggested he thought she really knew her stuff.

  Joey felt her muscles warming and loosening as she picked up the pace, the various knots and kinks starting to soften and relax. The cold, which had at first seemed bitter, soon ceased to bother her at all. She had been running for close to three miles, she figured, glancing at her watch, when she realised she was in the area of Aggie’s pond.

  She had come to it by a different route, approaching the pond from the north-east rather than the south-west, so she hadn’t understood her location at first. But she recognised the field just off to the left and knew she had to be close.

  Joey paused, breathing out little clouds of steam. In the near silence, her ear caught the sound of laughter floating on the wind. On impulse, she set off along the well-trodden path that led from the road into a dense stand of trees. The laughter and voices grew louder, and soon she was gazing at the pond from the top of a little hill that overlooked it.

  Yesterday, propelled by fear and adrenaline, she hadn’t really seen it. All of her focus had been on the woman she believed to be drowning, and after she and Aggie got out of the water, she was too consumed by her own embarrassment and confusion to take in the details of her surroundings.

  Now, though, she caught her breath. What stretched out before her almost seemed like a glorious mirage, shimmering and otherworldly. Ringed by green and golden browns and glistening in the few rays of sunlight that had broken through the clouds, the expanse of water, covered in certain areas with a very thin layer of ice, was so still that Nature appeared to be holding hold her breath. Birches and willows stood in attendance.

  Joey felt an irrational sense that it was all a dream, that if she ventured one more step, the pond would vanish into thin air. But the voices were real, she was certain of that. And if they were real, then this glorious apparition also had to be.

  She headed down the hill, negotiating shrubs and overhanging branches until the full magnitude of the pond came into view. Joey spotted Aggie immediately. Propelled by powerful crawl strokes, she crossed an ice-free expanse with an elegant glide, a swimming companion by her side. Nearer to the shore, where an ancient, moss-covered dock bobbed in the water, a pixie-like woman ducked and dived. Joey paused and smiled: they looked like three mermaids, playing in the tide. A few steps on, she spied, off to her right, a short, stout woman, breaking up thin sheets of ice on the water’s surface with a pole. So that was how they did it.

  On a bench near a rough-hewn hut sat another woman, with faded red hair, bundled in something that looked more like a bedspread than an outfit. She seemed to be knitting – a line of thick, cherry wool trailing upward from a bag.

  “A jumper,” the woman said, as though reading Joey’s mind. Only then did she pause in her knitting and look up. “I’m sorry. Are you lost? Can we help you?”

  “No,” Joey said. “I’m a friend of Aggie’s. I was just –”

  “The American girl? The one who’s going to ruin Stanway House?”

  Joey was taken aback. “Not ruin it, no, we’re just –”

  “I was teasing, dear. Of course you won’t ruin it! You’re bringing the old place back from the brink! I’m Viv, by the way. And you are –?”

  “Joey. Nice to meet you.” Joey thought that Viv looked surprisingly young to be one of Aggie’s companions. She seemed to be in her early sixties.

  “Joey!” Aggie called. Joey turned to see that Aggie had paused briefly and was standing in the water. The elfin lady had also come ashore and was now heading toward them.

  “It’s positively hot in there today,” said the elf casually, as she unbuckled the chin strap of what looked like an ancient bathing cap and peeled it off her head. She extended her hand to Joey.

  “Meg,” she said, “Meg Rowland.”

  “The writer. I started your book last night,” Joey replied. “I’m really interested in the time Barrie spent at Stanway House.”

  “Chapters fourteen, sixteen and seventeen,” Meg said. “Fourteen is about his relationship with the family, after the First World War, and sixteen and seventeen involve his cricket team, the Allhakab
arries. It was quite the crew.”

  “Really?” asked Joey. She knew that Barrie had been responsible for the construction of a cricket pavilion on the grounds of the estate, but she hadn’t known there was a team.

  “Oh, yes, all the literary luminaries: H.G. Wells, Conan Doyle, A.A. Milne, P.G. Wodehouse.”

  “Enough!” said Viv abruptly, finishing her row with a flourish and turning to face Joey. “The girl is here to swim, Meg, not discuss literature. You are going in, aren’t you?”

  “Me? No!… I don’t have a suit,” Joey replied, grateful for the excuse.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Viv replied. “There are three or four suits inside. We never know when we’re going to have visitors.”

  Joey glanced down at the water. Aggie was back to swimming her seemingly effortless laps. It did look enticing, and the air seemed to have warmed up a little with the appearance of the sun. It would be an unforgettable experience. And if five old women were doing it, how hard could it be? She had already braved the water once, when she dived in thinking she was rescuing Aggie, and she didn’t remember the water being all that cold.

  And then there was the real reason she found herself actually contemplating going in. Could Joey really back away from this challenge, when women nearly three times her age took it on almost daily?

  “Chicken!”

  Joey turned, startled. It was the woman with the pole who had shouted this, and now she was grinning.

  “That’s Gala,” Viv explained. “Gala, behave yourself. Give the poor girl time to think!”

  “She’ll never do it,” Gala called, not realising, or maybe knowing full well, that this amounted to a dare. And Joey never refused a dare. “Watch me,” she shot back.

  She marched to the lapping waters. She could feel an icy breeze skimming the pond’s surface. She dipped her hands into the water, and it was all she could do not to screech out loud. These women were out of their minds! The water was so cold that Joey was surprised that it wasn’t frozen solid.

  Meg was now right beside her. Joey struggled not to show her shock at the temperature of the water.

  “Did you know,” Meg said, her impish face contorting in thought, “that when an extremity – like the hand – is immersed in cold water, the temperature of the other hand falls in kind?”

  “No,” Joey replied, “I didn’t know that.” She wondered idly if a person could get frostbite from being in freezing water.

  Meg continued her cheery commentary. “The cold water takes so much heat from the body, that it affects the internal organs through the nervous system. The nervous system responds by sending the same signals to the opposite limb.”

  Joey looked at her in bafflement. Was Meg trying to talk her out of going in?

  “When you’re completely submerged,” Meg went on, seemingly oblivious, “your lips turn blue, your breathing goes into spasms and your pulse races. That’s when all the blood really accumulates in the internal organs. And if you’re really, really lucky – and your body can take it – you’ll feel a sudden rush of joy and exhilaration. It’s pure and utter bliss.”

  Oh, so that was the point of the story, Joey thought.

  “Of course her body can take it,” Viv scoffed. “She just ran over here! When was the last time you went running, Meg?”

  Meg shrugged.

  Viv turned to Joey. “Go for it! At the very least, it’ll be good for you. I haven’t had a cold in forty years!”

  Joey threw Viv a sceptical glance.

  “Is this truly wise?” A rumbling Scottish burr reached Joey’s ears. The final member of the club, who had to be Lilia, had emerged from the hut to join the conversation.

  “It’s not the North Pole, Lilia,” Viv chided.

  “She’s too thin,” Lilia shot back.

  “You’re just jealous,” Viv volleyed.

  “I am not!” Lilia replied grandly. “I like a woman who looks like a woman.”

  “Body mass does make a difference,” Meg continued. “What’s your BMI, dear?”

  “My what?” Joey answered.

  “BMI. Body Mass Index. Ration of lean to fat.”

  “I have no idea,” Joey said. “I guess I’m – normal.”

  “I thought all you Americans were obsessed with numbers; good cholesterol, bad cholesterol! And all the while eating yourselves into early graves!”

  “Gala!” Viv admonished. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

  “It’s true,” Gala retorted. “Have you ever been to Florida?’

  “It doesn’t matter if it’s true! It’s still rude!”

  “I didn’t say she was fat,” Gala protested, pouting.

  “Well I should hope not!” Meg had apparently taken on the role of Joey’s defender. “Look at the size of her! Anyway, we’re supposed to be encouraging her, not scaring her to death.”

  Joey looked from Meg to Lilia to Gala to Viv. She glanced down at the water, where Aggie was still in motion. If they could do it, so could she.

  “I’ll go get a suit,” Joey said primly as the ladies broke into cheers.

  She walked into the hut, followed by Gala. It was warm inside, with a pleasant smell which came from a woodburning stove in one corner. Pushed up against the far wall was a small wooden table, and along both sides were rough wooden benches, on which sat piles of the ladies’ clothes. For Joey, there was something almost poignant about the sight of these neatly folded piles.

  “The suits are in that box,” Gala announced, pointing to a wooden crate under one of the benches. She leaned her pole against an old beam and began to undress.

  “So you’re the official ice-breaker,” Joey mused, pulling out of the box one old, misshapen suit after another.

  “It doesn’t take long to freeze,” Gala explained. She removed her long johns, then crossed the floor stark naked. She opened the door of the woodburning stove and loaded several logs into its interior. Joey pretended to concentrate on the suit she had chosen, a stretched-out red tank with blue stripes down the sides. She peeled off her own damp layers and wiggled into the bathing costume. But she couldn’t stop stealing glances at Gala’s naked body.

  Joey had seen plenty of older women without their clothes on at her health club – well-toned, well-preserved, and often professionally sculpted by the surgeon or the trainer – or both. But she had never seen an ancient woman naked before. She was positively fascinated. Gala’s skin was stretched and thin, and her ample flesh rolled over her hips, sagging down from her belly. Her arms were freckled and strong, yet padded with soft flesh. Her breasts, once obviously bounteous, were sagging, pale, used. Yet Gala’s stride was strong and hearty, and she seemed more secure and comfortable in her body than did the nervous, self-conscious socialites in the locker room at home.

  Joey pulled her arms through the straps of the suit.

  “It’s now or never,” Gala said, looking up.

  “Now!” Joey said energetically.

  She followed Gala outside. Viv and Meg cheered as they made their way down to the water’s edge and climbed up onto the dock. Lilia was now in the water with Aggie. Joey was debating – dive in headlong or slip into the water gradually?

  Gala dived in and swam off. Joey decided to slide in slowly, adjusting to the arctic temperature a little at a time. She sat down on the dock and slipped one foot into the water.

  HOLY! SHIT!

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Gala said. She had circled back to the dock and was now treading water about ten feet away. Joey shook her head. She was doing this! She shimmied over to the edge of the dock, stood up, took a deep breath and jumped.

  The effect was stunning. Joey felt as though she had fallen into a massive container of broken glass. She felt her throat close up and her muscles jerk tightly, her mind freezing over in panic. The water was worse than ice; it was like liquid death. The pain was so intense, like the stabbing of a million ice picks. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t speak. All she could do w
as kick furiously and try to keep her head above water.

  For an endless, awful moment, she thought she might drown right then and there. In an English pond, thousands of miles from home. And for no good reason. For a stupid reason! Because she wouldn’t walk away from a dare! Because she didn’t want to be called a chicken!

  She concentrated on breathing steadily, keeping calm. Her panic subsided and her mind began to clear. She began to swim and then to relax into her strokes. Gradually, she felt brave enough to go totally underwater, where she felt a new sensation: the firmness caused by cold water tightening her body. It gave her an immense feeling of strength. She felt like a kid again.

  She kicked her way upwards, breaking the surface in a shower of pure ecstasy, her whole body swelling with joy, recklessness, glorious abandon. She shouted to Aggie and the others, but she didn’t know if they heard her. Had she ever felt this wonderful before? She didn’t think so. She swam out from the shore with a steady stroke, heading for the far bank. She felt wildly, euphorically happy.

  She felt at one with the water, with the breeze, with the sky and the day, at one with her life, and with all of life. Everything she could see – the birds, the trees, the sun, the grass – seemed suddenly bright, sharply defined, newly crisp.

  She looked up at the moving clouds, the changing shapes: a rabbit, a lion, a bear! She thought of her mother, and of them lying together on a beach, picking shapes out of the clouds. Joey was overcome with a sense of peace, of space, of lightness and freedom. The high she got from running was nothing compared to this. The rush of a business deal, the elation of orgasm, these were pale imitations of what she was feeling right now.

  “Joey?” Meg called.

  Aggie had finished her swim and was now on the bank with a towel wrapped tightly around her waist. Concern clouded her expression.

  “I’m amazed that she’s lasted this long,” Lilia said frankly, sipping tea from a thermos.

  “How long has she been in?” Aggie asked.

  “I don’t know ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s longer than that,” said Meg.

  “Joey!” Aggie shouted. “Joey! Come back!”