But to Paul, the secrecy only added to the excitement and soon he promised himself, he would pluck up the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend. Should he run it by Brian first though? Was he moving too quickly? Wouldn’t Brian advise him to be a little more elusive? But he knew Claire liked him and he knew how much he liked her. He wanted to be with her every minute and those long hours at home were torture. But less than twenty-four hours to go until he was back in the school library with her and then just two days until their night in the cinema. It seemed like a lifetime away and as Paul flopped on his bed, his schoolwork forgotten, he closed his eyes and imagined being close to her in the darkness of the theatre.

22

The water swirled around Claire, the chlorine-laced ripples shrouding her senses. She swam two or three times a week at the local pool and had been on the school swim team for the last few years. She’d always enjoyed swimming, but it was only in the last year or so that she’d begun to appreciate its numbing effects. In the pool, Claire wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of her parents and their constant bickering, or the stress of her upcoming GCSE exams. When she was swimming, she didn’t think about Charlotte and the Queen Bees and why it was so important for Claire to be a part of it. Nor did she think about Paul, her guilt and desire wrestling for prominence. For a few hours each week, as her limbs propelled her forward, her mind was like a beautiful desolate countryside – alive but blissfully uninhabited.

She pushed herself out of the pool, droplets streaming off her body, relishing the exhilaration from the fifty lengths.

‘Thirty-nine minutes, twenty,’ shouted her coach, throwing her a towel.

Claire dried her face, smiling into the towel.

‘Well done. Get dressed. See you outside,’ ordered Coach Timmons, already focused on the remaining swimmers.

Coach Timmons, or Timmy as he was known behind his back, always talked in staccato. She knew some of her team members didn’t always appreciate his approach, but Claire found it as refreshing as the water itself. If you were good, he told you, if you were bad, he told you. There was no ambiguity, no hidden meanings – everything was clear.

She hurried through to the changing rooms, happy that she’d beaten her personal best. She was even happier when, twenty minutes later in the pool foyer, Timmy read out the names of those participating in the next swimming competition and included hers. Swinging her bag on her shoulder she went outside to see if her mother had arrived to pick her up. Seeing the blue car, her mother at the wheel, she climbed gratefully inside, the heater on full blast.