‘What about a swim? That’ll blow the cobwebs away. I challenge you to a race.’ I pause and smile my best smile. The one that Jono says he likes. ‘Dump the coffee. Go and change. I’ll meet you by the pool in five minutes.’

I stand by the pool in my new designer swimming costume with an under-strung push-up bra. The one I blew £150 on in Harrods last week, and it sent me into overdraft. Hugo Boss. My first designer purchase. It makes me feel invincible. You are standing next to me, in your orange swimming shorts. Your trunk and legs are softly tanned and golden. You push your hair back from your eyes and frown into the sun.

You turn and grin at me. ‘You’re the challenger. Your call. How many lengths?’

‘I always do twenty, every time I swim.’

You nod your head. ‘OK then.’ You pause and put on your goggles. ‘And let’s agree on stroke.’

‘Well I can’t do butterfly, so that’s out.’

‘Let’s alternate. One length of crawl, one length of breaststroke. Beginning with crawl first. Get it wrong and you’re disqualified,’ you say and chuckle. ‘You count to three and let’s do it.’

‘Three, two, one, go.’

I dive in. My racing dive. The one I perfected at Queenstown Swimming Club many moons ago. I flip into the water. It slurps past my face, and the world becomes silent and strange and blurred. When I come up for air and breathe deeply in relief, you are already halfway down the pool, arms slicing through the water like a machine. Why am I doing this? The last time I took part in a swimming race was when I was eight. But then I think about your syrupy eyes, take another deep breath and launch my right arm into the water like a missile, as hard as I can manage.

Twenty lengths later, puffing and panting, I drag my exhausted body out of the water. You’re standing by the pool, waiting for me to finish.

‘I won,’ you say with a grin.

‘Surprise, surprise. As you are quite the athlete.’ I shrug my shoulders. ‘I’m not very competitive. I only wanted a race to distract you. You seemed so sad.’

‘Yes, well, you distracting me has cheered me up.’

I stand in my best position. The position I have perfected for selfies. Right leg slightly in front of my body. Head up. Stomach pulled in. I put my hands on my hips and turn my head a little to the left.

‘I’ll distract you any time you like.’

133

Miles