We caught the boat back to England later that day. Ma Blackwell was insistent that I shouldn’t miss any more school. And actually, I soon appreciated the normality of a daily routine. Putting on my uniform, sitting in class, queueing for lunch in the canteen helped keep my feet on the ground when everything else in life had become a giddy whirl.
After school and at weekends, I did interviews and went to photo sessions, answered telephone calls and letters. I shouldn’t have worried about the press not liking us: once they heard about the jellyfish sting, and Nate’s background as the son of the water board engineer sent here to flood our valley, they were falling over themselves to get our full story. We were on radio shows, in magazines, plastered over the front pages of the 262national newspapers. It was a funny, dizzying time, and took some getting used to.
To begin with I felt dull and awkward, and let Nate do the talking. But gradually I learned to open up a little. What people wanted to hear about was my life as a Channel swimmer. The trick was learning to play the part. Underneath it all I was still me, still Nellie, the girl who liked horses and currant buns and hated spellings and boring school assemblies. I bet Gertrude Ederle, my hero, probably played her part too.
Around this time I began to fully appreciate all the Blackwells had done for me. They’d seen me through some horribly tough times by giving me a home. So when they asked if I now wanted to live with Captain Farley, I said, if they didn’t mind, I’d rather stay on with them. The Blackwells were like family to me: I knew them in a way I didn’t yet know the captain.
‘Then make yourself useful and fetch that washing in from the line,’ was Ma Blackwell’s brisk reply.
Later I overheard her admitting I was the daughter she’d never had. And Mr Blackwell saying if only he’d been able to keep Perry for me, but the garden here was too small.
‘It’d break me to lose Nellie now,’ Ma Blackwell sobbed as her husband comforted her. 263
‘Thank heavens we don’t have to,’ he replied.
Being with them, and knowing I’d always be, I felt truly warm and content. Yet even now, if Lena asked me to go with her to London, or Brighton, or India, I doubted I’d have said no. In my heart of hearts, I knew that if she walked in tomorrow I’d still drop everything to be with her.
Months went by and I didn’t hear a peep from Lena. When I tried contacting her my letters were returned as ‘not known at this address’. All I could do was get on with my life, though it was still hard waking up in the morning and not hearing her voice. I didn’t think I’d ever completely get over losing her friendship.
By late winter, work on the reservoir entered its final phase. We’d grown used to seeing water in the fields of the lower valley, yet almost overnight it began creeping towards the village. Landmarks disappeared: a gatepost, a bridge, a front step, a classroom, the remains of a house. The chimneys of Hadfield Hall and the St Mary’s spire stayed visible the longest. Then, one March morning, they too were gone.
In brighter news, my swimming continued to go from strength to strength. Exciting times lay ahead. The English Channel craze meant people were constantly coming up with new ways to swim it – in relays, fully 264clothed, going to France and back again in one long stint. Yet we decided, Captain Farley and I, to try America next. The training sessions resumed at the gravel pits, and afterwards, on Saturdays, we’d go for buns in town. Nate, who’d started his new senior school, and came home most weekends, would accompany us – often for the training sessions, always for the buns. He was a whole lot happier these days.
In the tea shop, one weekend, I brought up the idea of using my middle name, Mary, instead of Nellie. All the professional swimmers I knew had strong-sounding, grown-up names like ‘Gertrude’ and ‘Joyce’. In America having the right name and image would be all important.
‘Mary does sound more serious,’ Captain Farley agreed.
‘Then why not, old bean?’ was Nate’s response. ‘I was a pompous Nathaniel till I met you.’
I laughed: Nate definitely suited him better.
*
Back at home, I asked Ma Blackwell what she thought of the idea.
Her eyebrows bristled. ‘What silliness! Your name is Nellie!’
‘It’s also Mary,’ I reminded her. ‘I’m only swapping 265the order round. Anyway, Captain Farley says it’s more professional sounding.’
‘Does he now?’ she said in a rather pointed way.
Sometimes I felt as if I was the only one who didn’t know the full story of my mother and the captain.
‘Was he really smitten with Mam?’ I asked. ‘I wish you’d tell me about it.’
Ma Blackwell patted a place next to her on the settee.
‘I suppose you’re old enough to hear,’ she agreed. ‘They was good friends for years – loved poetry and books, they did – and when your mother couldn’t get to the local library, she’d borrow books from the hall.
‘Things got …’ She hesitated, ‘… complicated when the war broke out. Your mam was going to have a baby and the captain wanted to marry her and be a family, but your mam, well, some say she didn’t love him enough. Others say she’d already given her heart to a soldier, and was waiting for him.’
‘The plastic ring,’ I murmured. ‘Maybe it was true.’
‘What I can say is your mam had her own way of doing things.’
‘She was stubborn, like me, d’you mean?’
Ma Blackwell smiled. ‘Something like that, yes.’
*
266And so, Nellie Foster, shy, mouse-haired schoolgirl, grew into Mary Foster, the world-famous swimmer. The following year, I went to America and swam the Catalina Channel, which was another adventure entirely. Often stories about me made the newspapers. But equally often there’d be bigger news, like the coronation of our new queen and how, on the very same day, Edmund Hillary climbed Everest – the real Everest, not the swimmer’s version.
It was after returning home from abroad one time that I saw a letter for me on the hall table. I knew the writing straight away. So did my heart, which gave a painful double kick. Dropping my suitcases, I fumbled open the envelope. I should’ve waited till I’d taken off my coat and was sitting down, but I had to read it immediately.
‘Dearest Nell,’ it began.
‘By the time you read this you’ll be world famous, and will barely remember me (you’d better do, though!), I’ve read all about you in the newspapers – every single article, and yes, I cut them out, though not to pin on my bedroom wall. I keep them in my special ‘Nellie Foster’ scrapbook and it’s filling up fast! You’ve done so amazingly, brilliantly well – swimming the English 267Channel, the Catalina Channel – where next?! The Olympics?
I’m coming to the part that I have to write. I owe this to you, Nell, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to give you the explanation you deserve. I wish life was simpler, and by that I mean families in particular. I always thought wild horses wouldn’t drag me away from you, and then, that day at the station, they did.
You’ll remember my baapu was working hard to set up a business, and to pay for my mata to join us from India? You might also remember how, in those last months at Combe Grange, the payments he was sending me were less than usual. Well, he was trying to buy Mata a ticket to England, that was why. I had no idea she was coming, Nell. They didn’t tell me in case the plan changed.
Of course, it was incredible to see my whole family. But it was also sad being in London again, with all the bomb sites and people saying Indians didn’t belong here, when the government had invited us to come. I missed you too – and Nate, and the Blackwells, and Perry and Sage. Our life in the village felt so pure compared to the big, smelly city. And part of me knew that if I wrote to you, and you wrote back, I’d come running, and Baapu’s dream of our family reunited would be ruined. I suppose 268the village has gone now, anyway. But I’ll never forget our time there.
As it turned out, none of my family liked London. And as the damp, dirty air made my chest bad again, we decided to move somewhere warm, somewhere that welcomed us, and felt like home.
When you read this I’ll be in India, back in the Punjab. I don’t think I’ll ever fit in somewhere the way I do here, Nellie. I loved living with you in Syndercombe, but sooner or later, I knew I’d have to come home. The swimming, the Blackwells, Captain Farley – all that was your life. There came a point when I had to think about what I wanted. Here, I’m not on the outside of life, or waiting to be sent somewhere else. I’m a Punjabi. This is where I belong.
I hope you understand even just a little bit of what I’m saying. And I hope you find a place to belong too, although I think swimming gives you that already. I’m always with you – in your thoughts, in your dreams – and one day, even if we’re too old to speak or laugh, we will be together again, I know it in my bones.
Until then, Nellie Foster, Champion Channel Swimmer, please stay brilliant,
Your dearest friend,
Lena.’ 269
As soon as I’d finished reading it, I started from the top again. I kept reading until my tired brain understood what she was telling me. Lena had always been far more than my lucky mascot: she loved me yes, but she also had her own life to live.
Later, in the quiet of my bedroom, I’d cry my heart out for all we’d planned to do together, and how we’d promised to go through life side by side. Yet once Ma Blackwell had made me a cup of tea and sliced me some fruit cake, I felt more hopeful. I was glad for Lena, glad she still considered herself my dearest friend. One day, somehow, we would be together again: I hoped she was right about that.