February: The Night Before
She felt like a teenager waiting for the phone to ring. Like Bridget Jones constantly checking to see if there was a message, but at least she hadn’t left a thousand messages on Chris’s answer machine. She told herself to push aside any personal feelings she had towards either Chris or the injured Karen. As team leader, she needed to know where her team was. She didn’t want to even look at herself in the hotel room mirror for fear she’d see the old Stevie, the one who had been broken because her emotions had been trampled on: disregarded and disrespected.
The fact that she was even going down that self-pitying road scared her. Just because Chris was being a gentleman and taking care of a wounded woman. Part of her felt like crawling back under a stone, like the proverbial toad. Shame on you, Stevie, she told herself. But I am afraid. I’m scared of being hurt again. I don’t want to feel like that again.
The pub in the village had become increasingly packed as more and more swimmers arrived for the next day’s event, some wearing their swim cloaks to keep out the cold night air. She and Holly had walked down to it from their B&B to get some food. Holly was fully recovered from earlier and declared she was starving.
‘Come on, Stevie,’ she’d said. ‘Stop staring at your phone and let’s go and eat!’
After their delicious meal, they hung around the table chatting, but Stevie suddenly had had enough. She needed to get some fresh air. As she was pushing past laughing and chatting strangers to get to the door, she felt her phone vibrate against her chest from the inside pocket of her down jacket. Anxious to see if it was Chris, she pushed a little more insistently and with a sigh of relief practically fell out of the door.
Standing to one side of the entrance to the pub, she reached inside her robe and extracted her phone from the pocket.
It was the news she had been dreading from Chris. Texting from the hospital he said the wound had been deep enough to require minor surgery and stitches, which meant that, after that had been done, he would need to drive the woman back to her home in Harrogate. The text had been matter-of-fact, but she could tell he had tried to make it less blunt by including a ‘Sorry’ and a ‘sad face’ emoji. ‘Will keep you posted. Promise to be there on time,’ he’d added as a PS.
The Stag Inn was located only a few hundred yards away from the loch side, so it only took her a couple of minutes to walk down onto the shingly beach. The night air felt refreshingly chilly after the combined heat of overexcited swimmers and stoked up log burners in the pub, but even so, she felt the need to zip up her swim cloak as she walked.
So, was this fragile ship, which she had built and manned with an able-bodied crew, actually going to manage to drop anchor and come into port? Time after time, Fate had tried to capsize the ship as it sailed unsteadily further and further north to this very long, dark, and currently rather unwelcoming loch in Scotland.
She picked up a small stone, turned it around in her hand, and then tossed it out into the loch, watching for its splash, white against the darkness. The lights of the event HQ were still twinkling from the jetties of the marina; the organisers hard at work doing last-minute adjustments and checks. The forecast was for strong winds during the night, so men were pegging down the guy ropes attached to the gazebos over the barbeque areas. Everything that could blow away was being weighted down or turned upside down. The hot tub was being filled, ready to be switched on first thing in the morning, the gang of cleaners were ensuring the changing facilities and huge ‘hot box’ – a temporary sauna – was spotless, even though they’d have to clean it all over again on Sunday morning.
It was exciting. This was what they had been planning and working so hard for. What a shame Fate had turned it on its head. Nothing could have been predicted or prevented it. So why did she feel so churned up inside? Chris had done what any decent person would have done in the same circumstances; she would have done the same if she had been driving her car up here. It certainly wasn’t something he’d planned nor was it just a very cowardly way of getting out of swimming in the event. She felt guilty and uncharitable now. What the hell was wrong with her?
Standing on the beach made her feel cold, but also held the key to flipping the switch. Loch Tay was not a tidal sea loch, but even so, she caught a vague salty smell on the gusts of wind that ran down its twenty-three kilometres. Or perhaps it was the pub ventilators. She laughed to herself. Should she take an impromptu skinny dip now, here, on her own, with a belly full of Peroni and pizza?
Come on, she told herself. He’s promised he will be there on time. She had tried to work out if it was actually feasible for him to drive down to Harrogate, probably try to grab a couple of hours’ sleep, then turn round and drive the five hours or so back up north tonight. She counted on her fingers and shook her head. He’d have to set off at three in the morning to be sure of getting there in time – the relay races started at 9.30, so he’d have to allow time to park, get changed, do the briefing. And whose bed would he be sleeping in?
‘Hello,’ Holly’s voice interrupted her downward spiralling thoughts. She felt an arm round her shoulders and leant against the other woman. They both shivered slightly in the cooling Scottish night air. ‘You okay?’
‘Yep, I’m fine, Holly. Just stressed. Seems everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong.’ She read out Chris’s message in a monotone and tired voice.
‘Oh. Oh bugger! Look, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but we’re here, it’s a stunning place, we’ve got other people who will swim with us. No one’s died.’ Holly hesitated. ‘Well, apart from Angela’s mother-in-law!’
Both of them laughed wickedly and almost immediately felt guilty.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Holly. ‘Chris will be here, you know. He promised you and I know he will do everything he can to keep that promise.’ She looked at Stevie and added, ‘Have you stopped to think how he might be feeling?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Stevie.
Holly frowned. ‘It’s not that long since his wife died and since he was nursing her, you know.’
‘And?’ Stevie still didn’t see the connection. But, slowly, the penny started to drop.
‘Come on, Stevie, I know you’re cross with him, but if you actually think about it, he’s not done anything wrong!’
‘No, I know!’ Stevie snapped a bit too quickly. She was beginning to put two and two together. ‘You mean… yes, I think I know what you mean now. He’s had his fill of looking after people, caring, coping with trauma, medical emergencies…Oh, Holly!’
Stevie twisted under Holly’s arm and turned to face her. ‘I feel awful. I mean, I was a bitch!’ She crumbled. ‘How could I have even assumed there was anything other than caring and looking after?’
‘Stevie, stop. Come on, I mean, I understand how you reacted – no, hang on.’ Holly took Stevie by the shoulders and squared her up. ‘Look at me.’
Stevie lifted her head and held Holly’s eyes. She was shaking, not from the cold, but from a desperately unhappy emotion: panic.
‘Stop blaming yourself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself especially, but also forgive yourself. How you reacted is in no way less important than how Chris reacted to the incident. You are both starting to let go of the past and the difficult emotions connected to how other people treated you. It is not surprising that everything feels so intense at the moment.’
Stevie hugged Holly and held on tight. Most friends she’d had in the past would have tried to console her with sweeping statements about ‘men’, or told her not to worry, everything would work out. With nothing helpful or concrete in between. But here was someone who was telling her bluntly that she had been in the wrong, not about needing to protect her own feelings, but how she had jumped to the wrong conclusions. The feeling of guilt that hung over her was palpable. She desperately wanted to wind the clock back. Thank goodness Chris wasn’t here now to see what an emotional mess she was.
‘You are allowed to be irrational and overreact, Stevie,’ said Holly. ‘We all are. Remember how accusatory and scared I was when I thought Simon was having an affair?’ She waited. Nothing. Stevie didn’t respond so Holly just held her and let her cry. It seemed the only way to show how much she cared for this woman who had brought them into her dream, guided them through weeks of cold water without a day missed or word of complaint. Stoical and warm-hearted, she was the perfect team leader, but she had absolutely no idea how to navigate her way through all the twists and turns of a full-on adult relationship. Nor had Chris. God help them both. Holly chuckled to herself. But they’ll have fun teaching each other.
After a few minutes, she felt that the storm had passed. Now maybe was the better moment to bring her back into the now. ‘Let’s get down to basics, Stevie. You fancy him,’ Holly stated, surprising Stevie with her frankness, but it was enough to break the hug. It reset the tone of the night to one of practical strategic planning, something both women were normally good at.
‘You think so?’ Stevie hadn’t been prepared for this change of direction in their conversation.
‘It’s obvious. And he fancies you.’ Holly shivered again and grabbed Stevie’s hand. ‘Come on, back inside, get another drink down you and stop fretting!’