I plunge into the water. Bubbles, gurgling, water in my lungs, drowning. I struggle to reach the surface and take a gasp of air but then I am being pushed down again. Adam? What? Why? I fight against it, try to push back, try not to inhale the water, but the pressure is strong. I use my new-found strength to push up, up, up as Adam pushes me down, down, down. I grab hold of his legs, two hairy pillars amongst the weeds that would entangle me, and try to pull him over, but he remains strong. I am running out of oxygen, there is nothing for it, I will have to attack his genitals. My hand advances and – oh! I am released.
I splutter up to the surface, spitting out water, phlegm and spit, rubbing my eyes from water blindness. I see a man with a whistle and a physique even tougher than Adam’s, standing over us both. The lifeguard.
‘We were just messing around,’ says Adam, grinning. ‘Horseplay.’ He ruffles my hair, then puts his arm around me, protectively, pulling me close.
Yes, of course, horseplay, I think, coughing up more water from my lungs. I nod feebly at what must be a lifeguard. I put an arm round Adam. He lets me hold him. The lifeguard probably thinks we are a couple.
‘Well, don’t,’ says the lifeguard. ‘Come on, come out.’ He leans into the water and proffers his hand. Part of me thinks I should stay here in the water, with Adam. But our games have left me tired and wheezy. I take the man’s hand and he hauls me out of the water. I must be heavy, my clothes retaining moisture, the two watches round my wrist adding extra weight. Adam hauls himself out. I try not to look at his now transparent briefs. But I see enough to remind me that Calvin Klein would be proud.
Adam bends over to fish his clothes out of the water.
‘Get your own back, mate,’ says the lifeguard, nodding his head at Adam’s vulnerable form.
I shake my head. ‘Horseplay, remember?’ I say.
Even so, as we slop through the Heath, me in my full soggy attire, Adam just in his trousers, and pass the old duelling ground, I wonder if it would be worth learning some self-defence, for Luke. For I am not sure, now, how book four will end up. And what position Luke may find himself in.
Adam jokes that I should just get the bus home in my soggy clothes, but as I know he is kidding, I jump into the passenger side of his 4x4. I will dry off at his, and change into his clothes. I imagine the warm shower, his deodorant, and a soft comforting towel, before slipping into whatever he has available.
As we turn the corner into Narcissus Road, I see a ‘for sale’ sign a few houses along from Adam’s house. Interesting. I’ll have to look into it.
Back inside Adam’s, I am not disappointed by the shower. Hot steam embraces me, and this time, I am happy to be in the water, to let it soak into my skin.
As I turn, I imagine how amusing it would be for Nicole to be behind me, watching.
I open my eyes, thinking I will be right.
She is not there. But the door to the bathroom, which I’d left open, so as not to exclude anyone, is now closed. I have been shut out.
I turn off the shower and grab a towel from the rail. I’d thought before I would move it to my face, breathe in its puffiness, before wrapping it softly round me, but that’s not a priority now. Instead, I tie it quickly round my waist, and push open the door to the bedroom. I see Nicole, on the bed, with my rucksack. Reading one of my notebooks.
For a moment, she doesn’t see me.
I start to move towards her slowly. The carpet cushions my feet and I don’t make a sound. I am almost level with her when she notices me. She looks up, gasps, and lets the book fall.
‘Looking for something?’ I ask.
She turns red. ‘Dan! Christ, sneaking up on me like that – you know I don’t like surprises!’
‘Is there a particular section you’d like to read?’ I ask.
‘Sorry, it’s just – well, I’m just being nosy. I thought you might have written something about me and Adam, or something! Sorry.’
‘Because I’d happily do a reading, when it’s finished. You can come round. I’ll cook.’
Nicole utters a series of ums and half-nos.
‘Good,’ I say. ‘That’s settled. I’ll let you know, when I’m ready. We’ll have lobster.’
I will, of course, need her round sooner than that – the climax of book four depends on her, although she is not to know that. I cannot write for Luke what Dan has not known. But perhaps I can finish book four at the end of the evening, and read it out then. If I still have an audience.
It turns out, though, that Nicole is not the only one keen to read my work. DC Huhne also wants a look. And she is more proactive. For she turns up at my house, uninvited, the next day.