And then Lotte touches her arm and they all stop and are quiet. A dove has come to land just by them. It stands still on the stones, the white of its body somehow supernatural against the tan and black shingle.

‘Is that a dove?’ Tor asks Helga, who nods.

‘Is it some kind of sign?’ Claire asks in a whisper.

It certainly feels like one to Tor. The white dove feels symbolic somehow.

‘New beginnings. And peace,’ Helga says. ‘That’s what a dove means.’

‘They let them off at weddings.’ Dominica’s voice is husky.

‘I think it’s a sign, Maddy, I really do,’ Lotte says. ‘I think it means you’re going to find Jamie.’

Tor reaches out to Lotte. How does she always manage to say the right thing?

There’s a moment as they all stare at the little bird and it feels almost religious. Then Maddy moves to take the phone out of her pocket, but the movement scares the bird away.

Tor sees Helga give her a look.

‘Oh well,’ she says. ‘Serves me right. Maybe this is too special to put on Instagram.’

Helga nods and gives her a little smile.

27

Life Drawing

Claire stands in Helga’s bedroom, not quite believing that she’s actually here. She wants to be the kind of person to impress Dominica and Helga and the others, who have encouraged her to step out of her comfort zone, but she hasn’t let on how terrifying she finds this whole idea.

She can’t tell the Sea-Gals that since she had the boys, she mostly loathes her body. It would seem petty to admit such insecurity, when she’s been stripping off in front of them for months. But body shape doesn’t seem to matter when their group is all shapes and sizes. In the sea the notion of the ‘perfect body’ Claire has always been so intimidated by is totally irrelevant. Hand on heart Claire finds every one of the women she’s come to know and admire in their swimming tribe both amazing and beautiful. Can they possibly feel the same about her? They must do for Helga to be so keen to draw her.

She walks over and strokes the soft Nordic blanket on the end of Helga’s low bed and inspects the framed model of a sailing yacht on the wall. The room feels oddly masculine, with its blue rugs over the rickety exposed floorboards. Above her, the beams slope downwards. Claire picks up the framed photograph next to the bed. It’s of an earnest young blonde woman. There’s an old leather necklace with a shell on it wrapped around it.

‘That’s Mette, my niece,’ Helga says, coming in with a robe. ‘Just put this on and come down when you’re ready. We’re all set. Everyone is here.’

Claire nods and thanks her. It’s too late to back out now.

She changes out of her clothes, feeling more and more nervous as she unhooks her bra. She leaves everything in a neat pile on the low leather chair in the corner and slips on the thin cotton robe. It smells of stale perfume and she wonders when it was last washed. She takes out her phone and sees the thumbs up message from Pim to her text. She’s told him that she’s having a drink with a friend, but he’s clearly not bothered. It’s been insanely busy for him going back in the classroom. She hasn’t had the nerve to tell him where she is, or what she’s doing. It’s not that he doesn’t approve of the Sea-Gals, but she knows he’s a bit put out by her new friendship group and how she’s doing things she never used to do. Like volunteering for Tor and getting up at dawn for a swim. When she came home and told him about her scary tumble getting out of the sea, he said he thought she was stupid for putting herself at the risk of hypothermia and that she ought to be careful swimming with strangers who he presumed weren’t medically qualified.