When the alarm goes off at four thirty in the morning, Tor groans as she switches it off, then turns to face Lotte. She strokes the blue and blonde hair away from Lotte’s face, thinking how childlike she looks when she sleeps.
‘Hon,’ she says.
She leans across and kisses Lotte’s cheek. She smells vaguely of tobacco, mixed with Nivea cream. Lotte’s not one for beauty protocols and never takes her make-up off before bed, but she does slap on a bit of cream when she remembers.
‘Babes, come on. If we’re doing it, we have to go.’ ‘Uhhh,’ Lotte says and opens one bloodshot blue eye. ‘Yep. It’s brutal, but we’re doing it.’
She thinks Lotte is going to ignore her and go back to sleep, but she screws up her face.
‘OK, OK, yep,’ Lotte says and Tor kisses her again, because she knows how much Lotte hates the cold and the mornings.
They get dressed, Lotte throwing jumpers over the Fleabag T-shirt she’s wearing. Her thighs are elaborately tattooed and she stumbles, naked from the waist down, to their tallboy chest of drawers they got from a car boot sale in the marina.
‘I don’t know where my costume is,’ she says.
‘Nice excuse. Wear knickers and the wet suit.’
‘You reckon?’
‘You’re not used to the cold.’
‘You do realise how much I love you to be even considering this?’ Lotte says, turning round.
‘Yes. I do. I’m going to make a flask of tea. Do not go back to bed.’
There’s a splatter of rain against the window and Lotte shivers. ‘Is that rain? That’s rain, right? Brrrr.’
Tor shrugs and pulls a face. Yesterday, she checked the weather app relentlessly, not really believing that the one hundred per cent chance of rain was true. She grew up with parents who inherently distrusted the weather predictions after the 1987 storm wiped out her dad’s Volvo when a fallen tree crushed it. But the forecast has turned out to be depressingly accurate. She’d so been hoping for clear-blue skies, and for this to feel like a hopeful event, but now she worries that the charity swim is going to be a subdued affair.
In the kitchen, she checks the chat. Dominica and Claire are about to leave. Helga and Maddy are coming too. She steels herself and refreshes the fundraising page. She’s fifty per cent to her target, but her family haven’t put their money in yet and Dominica says some of her work colleagues have promised sponsorship.
It’s eerie setting out in the dark. Lotte’s bike has a flat tyre and they’re the only people around as they walk along the middle of the road, the blurred streetlamps reflected in the puddles.
‘It’s freaky. It’s like we’re in a computer simulation,’ Lotte says. ‘It’s weird being sober at this time in the morning.’
A fox is by the big black bins, where it licks a discarded takeaway box. It stops and stares at them.
The road on the seafront is empty, the traffic lights green in both directions, but it’s getting lighter and the sea ahead a dark-green haze. There’s no horizon.
The Sea-Gals are waiting by the groyne, their Dryrobes bright against the grey wall. Dominica has her bike light on, illuminating their little group. There’s some others joining too – Arek from the charity and five or six others that she doesn’t recognise, and she feels a wave of gratitude, for people getting up at dawn.
The tide is out, but the water is choppy and Tor knows already that she’ll be in for more bruises on her shins getting in and out. She really doesn’t want to take off her coat, but they all strip off quickly. Lotte does up her neoprene cap with the chin strap and claps her gloved hands together. She’s so covered in waterproof gear, she looks like a seal. Tor introduces her to Maddy and she’s pleased that they seem to get on.
‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ Lotte says. ‘Tor said you were brilliant at volunteering.’
‘It’s nice to be able to help out.’
Arek comes down the beach. ‘Oh, Maddy. I meant to tell you,’ he said. ‘I was chatting to one of my regulars. I was telling him about Jamie and he knew a guy that fitted the description.’
Tor stares at Maddy and they both look at Arek.
‘They know where he is?’ Maddy asks.
Arek shakes his head. ‘No. I tried to get more, but the guy was high. He didn’t speak that much English. That’s all I got. I’m sorry. But they think he’s here in Brighton.’
Maddy nods and Tor sees her fighting back the emotion.
‘At least he’s near,’ Tor says, trying to comfort her. ‘At least it’s something, right?’
‘I heard of this private detective agency,’ Lotte said. ‘One of my clients at the salon used them, to help look for her daughter. I’ve got her number somewhere. It’s not cheap, but it might be worth a try.’
Maddy smiles. ‘Thank you. That would be great. I’ll do anything at this point.’
Tor smiles gratefully at Lotte, glad she’s come.
They all set off towards the water’s edge in a group. In the fine mist, they can only see a few metres in front of them.
‘This must be what it’s like swimming in heaven,’ Dominica says.
‘It actually reminds me of a spa I went to in Bali on my honeymoon,’ Maddy says.
‘Bali,’ Tor says, teasing her. ‘Exactly. Heaven.’
‘I paid a bloody fortune, and this is free. And better. I don’t have to put up with Trent.’
‘How are things in the Trent department?’ Dominica asks.
‘Don’t ask. I ran into Helen at the vaccination centre when I went home. She’s the woman he had an affair with. Still is, by the sounds of it. I’m so angry …’
‘Don’t waste your time being angry, Maddy,’ Helga says. ‘It’s not good for you.’
‘I guess.’
‘You must keep positive,’ Helga says.
Lotte strides forward and lets out a yelp as she splashes through a wave. She comes up smiling.
‘Not as bad as I thought,’ she calls and Maddy goes to join her.
Tor stands for moment with Dominica. ‘Do you remember last year?’
‘Yes, of course I remember,’ Dominica says, the rain pattering on their skin, the drops making them squint and blink. Tor rubs her upper arms. They’d done the dawn swim a month after Chris had died. Tor hadn’t thought Dominica would come in, but she had turned up at the beach, her face drawn with grief.
‘Look how far you’ve come,’ Tor tells her.
‘You think so? I don’t feel any different.’
‘But you’ve kept going. That’s something right? Something to be proud of. You kept showing up.’
The water is murky, the waves peaking and, as Tor knew it would be, it’s difficult to get in when it’s so rough. For a moment, when she goes for it and launches herself into the shallow water and compared to the outside temperature, it feels momentarily, pleasantly warm. She ducks under a wave and Claire copies her.
‘Jeez! That’s one way to wake up,’ she says.
There’s a pull in the water and they don’t swim so much as bob as they’re dragged towards the other groyne, but it’s fun being swirled around in the water. Arek and his friends get in and Tor realises how different it is swimming with men. As they lark around, dunking each other, they bring a different kind of energy.
She’s only aware of the light changing when she sees the other beaches coming into view. As far as Tor can see along the coast, they are the only people around.
Helga announces that it’s time to head in, but Tor doesn’t want to get out of the water. She knows she must, though – that the after-drop will be mega today.
Claire is slightly behind her, but she gets tumbled by a wave.
‘Steady,’ Tor says, catching hold of her hand as she splutters. She helps her find her footing as they time it between waves to walk up from the sea to the shore.
‘Thank you. That was a bit scary,’ Claire says.
Back at their pile of bags, Tor takes her towel and wipes her face. Her whole body is tingling and buzzing.
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.