Helga keeps this to herself. It’s not a popular view to believe in healing oneself, but she’s told Dominica before: in her book, getting into cold water cures most ailments. Even heartbreak.

‘So, this is scientific?’ Claire checks. ‘There’s science backing up why this makes us feel so good.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘So, I’m speeding up and slowing down? At the same time?’ Maddy asks, confused.

‘Remember the baby on the Nirvana album?’ Claire says and Maddy nods. ‘And how happy he looks? It’s that. We have that hardwired in us.’

‘Just get under. Take a few strokes and come up again to standing. Then you’ll know you’ll be OK,’ Helga coaxes. ‘Never mind the science, it’s how it feels that counts.’

Maddy braces herself and dunks her shoulders under, her eyes wide, then she takes a breath and puts her head under and swims a few strokes. She comes up grinning and Helga and the others all clap. To Helga’s astonishment, Maddy lets out a feral kind of howl.

‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves another Sea-Gal,’ she says.

17

Rob’s Declaration

Claire is glad Maddy has been initiated into their gang and she’s even more pleased when she realises that Tor works with homeless people and might be able to help her find her son. Claire’s agreed to volunteer for Tor’s charity and bring some cakes to the food bank she runs, but now Maddy is coming too.

She’s coming back from Aldi with all the ingredients, her mind whirring with the cakes she’s planning on baking. She’s going to keep it simple. Sponge tray bakes with jam and desiccated coconut. Old school. There’ll be plenty to go around.

As she’s crossing the road, she sees Rob, Jenna’s husband, coming along the pavement towards his gate from the other direction, ostentatiously swinging his leg over his bike and walking. She could hang back, but there’s a car coming, so she needs to hurry with her shopping bags, the heavier one of which feels like it’s about to split, so she’s running with her knees bent and the bag close to the ground just in case.

She arrives at the pavement, just as Rob’s blocking it with his designer bike. He should really let her pass first. That would be the polite thing to do, but he deliberately slows straight across her path and gives her a smug look as she waits in the gutter. He’s got a helmet on and there are sweat streaks down his face. What do they call them? Mamils. Middle-aged-men-in-Lycra. His shorts with their obvious bulge in the front are rather distracting.

‘No, after you.’ Claire gestures to let him pass. He unclips his helmet without a word of thanks and Claire, stupefied by his rudeness, walks determinedly to her gate.

‘I heard you put an objection in to the council,’ Rob calls out, as if this justifies his behaviour.

Pim spent ages crafting a carefully worded email.

‘I think it’s a travesty you’re cutting down the tree, that’s all.’ She doesn’t add that she’s horrified by how much light they’re going to take away from the back of her house once the two-storey extension goes up. Claire has seen the plans and they will transform next door into a modern monstrosity. ‘We could have discussed it before,’ she adds. ‘It could have been friendly.’ Instead of acrimonious. She doesn’t say it, but her tone implies it. She feels trembly, but firm, like a tree being shaken in the wind herself. This is not like her to be brave enough to confront anyone – especially an alpha male like Rob. But in her mind’s eye, Claire suddenly has an image of Helga. She’d never put up with someone like Rob.