The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society

by Barbara Zitwer

  “Hi,” she said miserably.

  “Hi, honey,” Joey responded.

  Joey got up and fetched another armchair, carrying it to the table. Lily flopped down.

  “Now, now,” Aggie said warmly, stroking Lily’s hair as the girl commenced with a dramatic display of tears. Joey had no doubt that Lily truly did feel miserable, wretched, betrayed by the world. But there was also a little hint in Lily’s melodrama of the budding actress executing a passionate and persuasive performance. Finally she sniffed and sat back in her chair.

  “Have you eaten, darling?” Aggie asked.

  Lily glanced at their plates. “I’m not hungry,” she said glumly, eyeing the fish.

  “Are you sure? A cup of cocoa, perhaps? A piece of cake?”

  Lily brightened slightly at these prospects, so Aggie rang the hand bell.

  “Does your father know you’re here, Lily?” Aggie asked.

  Lily’s expression grew hard. “No. And I don’t care. Let him worry.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Aggie said softly, taking the lead.

  “Yes, I do! They’re horrid! Both of them! Granny’s always mean and angry, and Daddy goes along with whatever she says! They act like they’re the only ones who lost Mummy! I lost her, too, and I’m not going around making life miserable for everybody!”

  “No,” Aggie said calmly. “You’re not. You’re the only one behaving like a grown-up!”

  Surprised and vindicated, Lily smiled for the first time. Then her face grew serious again. “Can’t you talk to her, Aggie? I know you’re her best friend. Can’t you make her understand?”

  “Is that why you came here?” Aggie asked.

  Lily nodded, suddenly looking vulnerable and very young.

  “I’ve tried, dear. We’ve all tried. But I will try again. For you.”

  “Thank you.” Lily turned to Joey. “Granny was so mean to you! I wanted to slap her!”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Joey said, eliciting another tiny smile from Lily.

  “Daddy needs you, Joey! We need you!” Lily was suddenly fighting back the tears. “The house is so depressing. He’s so depressing. I can’t stand it any more. Ever since you came here, he’s been different, happier! I thought maybe – we had so much fun when you came over, and when we went to London, I – I –”

  Lily began to sob again. Aggie’s eyes found Joey’s and indicated distress at Lily’s state.

  “Let me get you a handkerchief, darling,” said Aggie, going out into the hall.

  Lily now turned to Joey. “Take me back to New York with you, please?”

  “Honey! You have to go to school! You’re not ready to –”

  “I want to go to Juilliard. I have my own money. My mother left me an inheritance, and I can have it any time I want. I can sleep on your couch. I’ll pay rent.”

  “Oh Lily, when you finish school, if you still want to come to New York, I will put you up anytime –”

  “But I want to come now! When you go back!”

  Joey shook her head. “That’s not possible, sweetie.”

  “Why not? I can take care of myself! You won’t have to look after me. I can pay for everything.”

  “Juilliard’s like college, honey. You have to audition and get in, and the competition’s fierce. You can’t just show up.”

  “Even if I can pay?” Lily asked miserably.

  “It wouldn’t be such a fantastic school if everybody who wanted to go could just write a cheque and get in. You have to prepare for the audition and learn to analyse plays. You have to really want it …”

  “But I do!”

  “I know. But you’re not ready. I can try to help you get ready, if you’re willing, and then if they take you, my couch is your couch.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Joey smiled.

  Lily was on her second piece of cake when Joey heard the front doorbell ring.

  “Would you see to that?” Aggie asked Joey, shooting her a significant glance.

  “Uh, sure,” Joey said, getting up and going into the front hall.

  Simon had beaten her to it. He opened the door to reveal Ian standing in the porch, hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed. He stepped inside.

  “Thank you,” Joey said to Simon. “Hello Ian.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ian asked.

  “Aggie invited me for supper. I guess she called you.”

  “She did. And just wait until I get my hands on that little –”

  “Ian!”

  “Where is she?”

  “Please, wait.”

  Ian glanced around, as though hoping to catch a glimpse of Lily.

  “I can’t believe she came here! What would possess the child –”

  “She wanted Aggie to talk to Lilia. She knows what good friends they are. That’s not so unreasonable.”

  “Talk to her about what?”

  Joey hesitated. She longed to speak directly to Ian but wondered if she had the right. They hadn’t known each other very long, and what she wanted to say was the sort of thing only old friends dared to say to one another. And she wasn’t doing so well with her old friends.

  “I don’t know if I should say this,” Joey admitted.

  “Say what?”

  She looked him directly in the eyes, eyes that yesterday had affectionately sought hers. Tonight, they looked hard and cold. Joey shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Say what?” he demanded.

  “It’s none of my business,” she responded.

  “Say what you were going to say!” Ian said flintily

  Joey folded her arms. She looked away, then back. “All right,” she said softly.

  She took a deep breath, as Ian waited.

  “I’ve never been a mother,” she began, “so I don’t know much about raising kids. But I do know something about teenage girls, because I used to be one. And Lily’s at the end of her rope.”

  She paused.

  “Meaning,” Ian prodded.

  “She’s unhappy, Ian. And she wants to be happy. And for you to be happy.”

  “That’s easier said than done.”

  “But you’ve got to try!” Joey snapped. “If not for yourself, then for her. You’re going to lose her, Ian. Because she can’t take much more.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of living with a ghost! Of living with the shadow of the man her father once was. It’s tough enough that she lost her mother. She feels she’s lost you, too.”

  “I’m doing the best I can!” Ian flashed. “You have no idea.”

  “I know I don’t.”

  Ian seemed visibly to shrink before her eyes. He hung his head.

  “I shouldn’t have – let anything happen between us.”

  “This has nothing to do with you and me,” Joey said.

  “Yes, it does. Everything’s all tangled up together. I made a promise to Cait, Joey.”

  “With all due respect, Ian, I think the words are: ‘Till death us do part.’”

  He looked up quickly and Joey could tell that she had struck a nerve. There would be no more talking now.

  “She’s in there,” Joey whispered, motioning in the direction of the drawing room. Ian looked as though he were about to say something, then decided against it. He swept past her and disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 22

  Saturday dawned clear and slightly warmer. Over coffee and toast at quarter to eight, Joey made a list of all the things she was going to do before the sun went down. Most of the items were fairly unimportant, tasks she could accomplish any time in the next few days, but the purpose of this exercise wasn’t really the organisation of her time. It was to get herself moving and keep herself distracted. She’d spent half the night tossing and turning, obsessing about all the things that had gone wrong in the past couple of days.

  First, she was going to clean the apartment: wash the sheets and towels, throw open the windows to air the whole place out. She’d been liv
ing there for two weeks now, her stuff was all over the place and the bathroom was getting a little grungy. Next, she’d sort all her paperwork and notes, make a list of the questions she had for Massimo, and then download and print hard copies of all the contracts they were going to be giving to the subcontractors. All this would probably take until about noon, bearing in mind that she would also have to get Tink out for a walk.

  There wasn’t much food left, either, so she would go into the village in the afternoon. Maybe stop by the pond. Even have a swim. In any case, she’d have to get some food before the shops shut, just enough to see her through until Monday or Tuesday. And she most definitely had to get some wine.

  Joey poured another half cup of coffee. She wondered what Ian and Lily were doing right now. Lily was probably still sleeping, but Ian was an early riser. She imagined him seated at his own kitchen table, drinking his coffee, alone. She wondered if he and Lily had argued last night, and whether Joey had made things better or worse by the things she said.

  Now, in the cold light of morning, she could hardly believe what she had uttered – “until death us do part”? What a thing to say to a person! What right did she have to suggest that Ian’s promise to his wife had been fulfilled upon Cait’s death? Joey could think whatever she wanted, privately, but to say it out loud? Besides, what did she know about losing a spouse? No man had ever loved her enough to ask her to marry him.

  Joey stood up abruptly. There was no point in going over this again. It wouldn’t do any good, and she had spent hours in last night’s darkness travelling just these avenues of thought, only to find herself at dead ends. The fact was, she had said these things, the damage was done. Of one thing she felt pretty sure: she wasn’t likely to be seeing Ian over this weekend, unless they ran into each other. She seriously doubted that he’d be knocking on her door, and she wouldn’t dare knock on his.

  By one thirty, Joey had cleaned the apartment, got all her documents organised, and walked Tink. She’d made the list for Massimo and left a message on his mobile, asking him to be in touch with her first thing Monday morning. She’d also called Sarah, hoping the call would go to voicemail, then feeling guilty that she had wished for that outcome.

  “Sorry to miss you,” she lied into her BlackBerry, secretly relieved. “I’ll try you later today.”

  She managed to scrape together a light lunch from pitiful left-overs, an egg scrambled with tomato, made into a toast sandwich with the ends of the loaf. And a handful of soft grapes, mouldy-tasting at the stem ends. None of it was really worth eating, and she wished she had waited – the meal seemed the perfect indicator of her wretched state.

  She was crossing the gravel drive a little later when the door to the gatehouse opened.

  “Hi,” Lily called, stepping out of the interior darkness.

  “Hi.” Joey glanced around, noting with relief that Ian’s van was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are you going?” Lily asked. “Can I come?”

  Joey hesitated. “Sure, but I’m not doing anything exciting. Just getting some food.”

  “That’s okay.” Lily looked chastened, subdued. Joey wondered again if she and her father had argued last night.

  Joey shrugged. Lily stepped out and closed the door.

  “You’d better get a jacket.”

  “I’m not cold,” Lily said. “I don’t need it.”

  “You might. I know it feels like spring now, but it’s supposed to get colder.”

  Lily sighed and went back into the house. She returned a moment later in a navy pea coat, unbuttoned. Together, they walked through the arch and out onto the drivve.

  “So, how are you?” Joey finally asked.

  “Daddy and I had a massive row. He was really cross that I went over to Aggie’s.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Because she’s always been really nice to me. And Granny likes her better than the others.”

  “What others? The ladies at the pond?”

  “No. At church, like Mrs Norton. And Mrs Furth.” Lily gave a dramatic shiver.

  Joey made a conscious effort not to speak. She wanted Lily to go on. But Lily turned toward her, obviously hoping that Joey would pick up the thread.

  “So you’re still mad?” Joey prompted.

  “Kind of. Not as mad. I just wish Granny would listen to me. But she won’t.”

  “Have you ever tried to talk to her about how you feel?” Joey asked. “When you’re not mad, I mean.”

  “That’s what Dad said I should do. I tried calling her a little while ago, but she’s not home.”

  “Maybe she’s at the pond,” Joey said, without thinking.

  “Maybe,” Lily said. “Do you know where it is? I used to know exactly where the path was, but I tried to find it last summer and it’s all overgrown.”

  Joey regretted bringing up the subject of the pond. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go there herself, and she definitely wasn’t sure that bringing Lily there was a good idea.

  “Granny used to take me there in the summertime, when I was little,” Lily continued. “But I haven’t been in a long time. It’s not that much fun. It’s all old ladies. And who wants to swim in the freezing cold? They’re bonkers, all of them!”

  “I love it,” Joey said.

  “The pond?”

  “The swimming.”

  “You went in? When?”

  “I’ve gone in a few times. I thought I’d hate how cold the water is, but it’s amazing!”

  “Isn’t it like ice?”

  “At first, yeah, but then you feel so – alive! I can’t describe it. But I totally get why they love it.”

  Lily suddenly stopped in her tracks. “Can we go there?”

  “To the pond? Now?”

  Lily nodded. “I actually think it might make Granny happy. She was always after me to come with her, and I turned her down so many times that finally she stopped asking.”

  “I have no idea if she’s there,” Joey said.

  “Well, somebody will be,” Lily replied. “They’re always hanging around that hut. And at least they can tell her I came by.”

  Joey hesitated. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe Lilia would be touched by the gesture. Maybe it would even give Lilia pause, make her think a little differently about Joey, as a peacemaker rather than a person who sowed discord and pain.

  “Are you sure she’d want that?” Joey asked.

  “I told you, she was always trying to get me to come,” Lily replied, smiling.

  Joey still felt uncertain; she dearly hoped that she wasn’t about to make another mistake. But Lily seemed sure, and she certainly knew her grandmother better than Joey did. She seemed to want to see Lilia now, which had to be a step in the right direction.

  “Okey-doke,” Joey said. “You’re on.”

  Viv was sitting in her big chair, knitting away, with a mug of tea at her side. Without dropping a stitch, she looked up, startled, “Lily McCormack!” she cried out. “As I live and breathe! Come give Auntie Viv a hug!”

  Lily kissed and hugged Viv, then stood up and glanced around. “Is my granny here?” she asked.

  Viv nodded toward the pond. “Out there, doing her laps.” They all gazed off at the water as Lilia and Aggie, oblivious to Joey and Lily’s arrival, swam back and forth. Meg came out of the hut and, seeing Joey and Lily, hurried down to greet them.

  “Lily! You brought spring with you! Hello, darling!” Meg swept Lily into a hug, then hugged Joey as well. “The winds are blowing in from the south, apparently. It is the warmest winter day since 1916, according to the BBC. But I didn’t need the radio to tell me that.

  Joey walked to the edge of the pond, where early snowdrops were poking out their tiny white buds.

  “I thought you were going in,” Viv said to Meg.

  “I am,” Meg responded.

  “Well, you’d better do it before you lose your nerve!”

  “Me?” Meg shrieked. “When was the last time you went in?”


  “I want to finish my sweater!”

  “That’s an excuse.”

  “For the record, I went swimming the day before yesterday.”

  Meg shook her head, grinning, and strode off toward the water. “Want to come in, Lily?”

  “No, thanks,” replied Lily.

  “Joey?” Meg urged.

  “Maybe later.”

  “How about a nice cup of tea and some cookies?” Viv asked. “They’re homemade. Butterscotch.”

  “Yes, thank you,” answered Lily politely.

  Viv led Joey and Lily into the hut. A moment later, Gala appeared.

  “Gala, Lily’s here!” called Viv. “She came with Joey.”

  Gala paused, slightly breathless, and locked eyes with Joey. “Consider yourself forewarned, ladies,” she said curtly. “Lilia is not in the best of moods.”

  “I was hoping I might cheer her up,” said Lily.

  “Well, here’s hoping.” Gala said.

  Lily burst into a wide grin, obviously relieved to know that other people noticed and had to endure her grandmother’s moods.

  “Bring that chair over, Lily,” said Viv. “Sit right down next to me. You have learned how to knit, haven’t you?”

  Lily dragged over an old wooden chair. “Mrs Christie at school tried to teach me once, but I wasn’t very good at it. I kept dropping stitches.”

  “Do you still have that jumper I knitted you?”

  “It’s on Lucius, my teddy bear!” Lily turned to Joey, who was helping herself to a piece of butterscotch shortbread. “It’s so cute, Joey. Turquoise and lavender stripes, with a bright yellow daisy on the tummy.”

  Joey poured two cups of tea from the pot on the hob and handed one mug to Lily. Together, they all settled into their chairs.

  “That’s so pretty, Viv,” said Lily, studying Viv’s rectangle of knitting.

  “Thank you!” replied Viv. “It’s the back of a sweater for Meg’s granddaughter.” Viv held up the garment, which was knitted in a complicated Aran pattern of twisted cables, stockinette and seed stitches. “I got ten skeins of this fabulous wool at a street market in Devon. I guess it was the end of the dye lot.”

  “What’s a dye lot?” Joey asked.

  “It’s wool that’s been dyed using the same vat of colour,” Viv explained. “There can be slight colour variations from batch to batch, of the dye, I mean. That’s why they tell you to buy all the wool you need for a project at the same time, so it’s from the same lot. Otherwise, you might end up with a few different shades.”