Page 61 of Not Moving Out
‘Of course, and we’ll always have Dolly to think about.’
‘Always Dolly,’ said Freya with a tender smile.
‘Oh, did she tell you that Stuart offered her a job at the language school?’
‘No.’
‘She’s starting tomorrow. She’s going to be an activity leader. It will give her something to do over the summer holidays and a bit of money in her pocket.’
‘That’s good. After Maya, I think she needed something to do.’
‘That’s exactly what I said.’
We sat on the grass for a while, and then decided to head back to Brighton. When we got back, Dolly was in the kitchen making herself something to eat, and Freya put the kettle on and made us tea, and all I could think about was how normal it all felt. We were all going along with this normality, almost pretending it was going to last forever, even though we all knew that in a few months it would be gone for good. Freya was going to New York with her friends in September, and it felt like that was her drawing a line under us. We were done, it was official, and however I felt about it wouldn’t change a thing.
The only bright side to that realisation was that I had something else to add to the script. It was coming along nicely, and I had almost finished the entire first series. Carl was excited to see it, but I had an issue with the ending of the last episode. It was a sitcom that demanded something of a happy ending, or at least a cliffhanger to take us into a second series. The thing was, I had no idea how it was going to end yet, and that was something I really had to decide sooner rather than later.
Chapter Thirty
Freya
It was difficult to put into words what Cold Water Club had given me. I went at least four times a week and I simply couldn’t imagine my life without it. There were mornings when my alarm was going off at six fifteen when I wanted to stay in bed, and some days I almost pulled the duvet back over me, but when I got up, had a quick wake-up coffee and got outside and into the sea, I never regretted it. The lasting effects of it on the rest of my day were undeniable. I was definitely a converted cold water swimmer. Today was different though because we had brought along someone who definitely wasn’t ready for it.
‘Oh my actual fucking God!’ trilled Mum, who hardly ever swore, before we were even in the water. ‘I’m not sure I can do this.’
‘Give it a chance,’ I said. ‘I was the same as you at the beginning, Mum.’
‘Hardly the same,’ said Mum. ‘You’re in a thermal one-piece with the little boots. I’m in the old swimming costume I bought when you were learning to swim in the mid-Eighties, darling! It’s amazing it still fits me, but it was bargain basement then, now it’s barely holding everything in!’
‘I did tell you to bring a hat, Mum.’
‘Well, I forgot, didn’t I, because it was so early, and Martin was faffing around with his new air fryer. He loves it so much. It’s like he’s got a woman on the side!’
‘We just got an air fryer,’ said Debs. ‘Absolute game changer.’
‘Yeah?’ said Caroline. ‘I was thinking about getting one.’
‘Do it,’ said Debs. ‘I literally cook everything in the air fryer now.’
‘Everything?’ I asked.
‘Pretty much,’ said Debs. ‘And the best bit is hardly any clean-up.’
‘That does sound great,’ said Caroline.
‘Maybe I’ll have a look, too,’ said Lucy. ‘My boys eat so much. Anything to make my life a little easier.’
‘Right, can we get this over with before I freeze to death?’ said Mum, as we stood by the water’s edge. To be fair, it was the coldest morning we’d had in weeks, and there was a slight drizzle in the air and the wind was getting up.
‘Ready everyone?’ said Lucy.
Everyone said ‘yes’ except Caroline, who said ‘aye’, then we slowly walked into the water. Mum was holding my left hand for support, and when I looked across at her I could see the pain on her face. She grimaced and tightly squeezed my hand. Luckily she hadn’t been there in March when the water was considerably colder. It was August now and I had noticed how much the sea had warmed up. I wouldn’t call it a bath, exactly, but the biting chill I had first experienced was definitely gone.
‘It gets better, Mum,’ I said optimistically.
‘That’s what Martin said about classic car shows, and let me tell you, they don’t!’ said Mum, and we kept walking forwards, one careful foot in front of the other. ‘I can’t do it any more,’ said Mum when we stopped walking and were preparing ourselves to squat down. ‘I can’t feel any of my extremities.’
‘Try breathing deeply,’ said Lucy. ‘In through your nose, and then slowly out through your mouth. In slowly and then out slowly. In slowly, and—’
