25

Lisa

I stand at the edge of the lake looking out over the water. It’s freezing but I’m thankful to be away, from the house and its ghosts, from Mark’s voice that has lodged itself inside my head these last few days and, though I hate to admit it, from Joe and his constant tantrums.

As I stand watching the water ripple in the breeze I see my father’s face, just above the surface of the lake, his hands outstretched.

‘Come on, Lisa,’ he cries. ‘You’re almost there.’

I recall the Saturday mornings we would spend together at Hampstead Lido, my dad and me. Mum had always been terrified of water, due to a near-drowning incident in the Thames at Windsor when she was six, but my dad had been determined that her fear would not be passed on to me so he took it upon himself to teach me how to swim. ‘You never know when you’ll need to save yourself, Lisa,’ he used to say to me as we strolled through Hampstead village to the Lido. ‘And, besides, swimming is good for the soul. That’s what I’ve always thought.’ I see his soft brown eyes twinkling. I close mine and let myself be calmed by the memory of him.

He was so patient, even when I got frustrated and jumped out of the pool. Dad never lost his cool, he just gently coaxed me back, told me that once I could swim a length the sense of pride would be immeasurable. And because he had faith in me, I didn’t want to let him down. I wanted to be proud but I also wanted him to be proud of me too when I swam that length, so I stuck at it and within a few weeks I had achieved the goal. I remember Dad took me to the park cafe to celebrate with a slice of apple pie and a cup of steaming hot chocolate. I hear his lilting north London accent in my head now as I open my eyes and look out at the soothing water again. ‘You did it, Lisa. I always knew you could. Now, whatever are you going to do next?’

That was the wonderful thing about my dad. No matter what I did, he never gave up on me, never stopped cheering me on and believing that I could become the best I could be. He believed in me right up to the end, with never a moment’s doubt. Why the hell couldn’t I have lived up to that? Why did I have to mess up so spectacularly?

The pale sun is beginning to dip in the sky now and I feel my spirits fade along with the light. Anxiety nips at my chest as I think of Joe alone in that house with a woman I’ve only just met. I can imagine what Mark would say about that. ‘There you go again, Lisa, shirking your responsibilities.’

The thought of Mark makes me want to jump into the lake and spend a blissful few moments swimming away my anxiety, though I know I would freeze in this weather. Mark hated me going swimming. He said it made me go strange for hours afterwards. ‘Like you’ve left a crucial part of your brain behind at the pool.’ He was being spiteful but in a way he was right, I did feel altered after swimming. I felt balanced and calm but also protected somehow, like the water had formed a barrier between me and the world, a kind of armour. Dad had been right, learning to swim had saved me, though just not in the way he imagined.