We agreed to train on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. On the weekdays it meant getting up before school when the water was at its coldest, and the sky barely light.
‘Sometimes I think you’d been better off born a fish,’ Ma Blackwell remarked when I told her. ‘You stay safe, now.’
‘That’s why we’re training together,’ I assured her.
It was no surprise that she disapproved of Nate. Mr Clatworthy wasn’t popular in our village for obvious reasons, not least because the water board’s compensation amounts for people’s property had turned out to be a whole lot less than he’d first suggested. Money was more of a problem now than ever.
‘Nate’s not like his dad,’ I tried to explain. 116
Ma Blackwell remained unconvinced. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Nellie.’
Mostly, though, she seemed glad to have Lena and me out from under her feet. And now we no longer went to swimming club, that saved a few pence too. On our last day there, Maudie sulked at our news and Captain Farley rewarded me with an awkward pat on the shoulder.
‘Bravo, young Nell,’ he boomed when I told him. ‘That is an honourable gesture.’
‘I’m mostly doing it to improve my own swimming, sir,’ I pointed out, in case he thought I’d become some sort of saint.
*
Our first week at the gravel pits mostly involved getting used to the freezing water. The hardest part of swimming the English Channel was coping with the cold, and in June the sea would be little more than fifty-four degrees Fahrenheit. Temperatures this low could cause hypothermia or disorientate a swimmer into going miles off course. Swimming at the lido in unheated water had given me a head start, certainly, but we needed to build up our resilience. 117
From this point on, Nate and I agreed to avoid hot baths, hot-water bottles, piping-hot drinks, and to sleep without blankets with our bedroom windows wide open. Often I’d lie awake listening to the night-time noises – the fox cries, the owl screams, the new-born lambs bleating. Soon our whole valley would be gone: it was another lesson in resilience.
By the second week of training, things started to slip. Nate arrived late or without his proper kit, and I began to wonder for whose benefit I was doing this.
‘You’re the better swimmer, Nell,’ Lena would grumble. ‘I wish you could swap places. You should be the first child to swim the English Channel, not him.’
But Mrs Lamb had made her choice, and she’d picked Nate. All I could do was hope for a chance of my own in the future, though that possibility seemed a very long way off.
Then, early one Saturday morning, Lena made her brilliant mistake.
We’d agreed to meet at the usual time, and Nate was late. It was a bitter morning, a thick frost still whitening the gorse bushes. Impatient to get in the water, I decided to start without him, peeling off my clothes to my costume underneath. It was an old-fashioned thing Ma Blackwell had dug out for me ages ago – black, knitted, 118with thick shoulder straps and a tendency to go saggy in the water.
‘Bet she wore that when she was a girl!’ Lena sniggered the first time she saw me in it.
The truth was costume fashions hadn’t changed much and Nate’s, though considerably newer and less saggy, was the same tunic-shaped, torso-covering type as mine. It was at this point he appeared, whizzing down the slope on his bike.
‘Sorry!’ he said, flinging his bike aside. The smell of bacon and toast wafted from his clothes as he unbuttoned his coat.
‘You’d better not have eaten too much breakfast,’ I warned.
He smiled and handed me something orange and rubbery. It was a swim cap like his own.
‘For you,’ he said.
It was typical Nate, I was learning. He had an infuriating knack for doing something kind just when you wanted to be cross with him.
Reluctantly I took the cap. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’ll be easier to spot in the water, wearing that,’ Lena said approvingly. It was her job to time us, and she was already setting her watch. ‘Thirty minutes, okay?’
‘Forty-five,’ I countered. 119
Nate groaned.
Finally, we were ready. It was one of those rare mornings where the air was colder than the water. After the first dip, the first gasp, I quickly felt warmer. Remembering to breathe slowly, I started swimming.
Our usual route was to do laps of the gravel pit. Sometimes we’d swim side by side, but often I’d edge ahead, and Nate would tuck in behind. It suited us to swim this way: he liked it that I set the pace, and I enjoyed seeing nothing but water ahead of me, because then I could almost imagine I was swimming in the open sea.
By the time Lena gave us a sign that we’d five minutes left, my shoulders ached with cold. I tried to block it out by concentrating on my rhythm.
Take a breath, lift my left arm, kick, kick. Take a breath, lift my right arm, kick, kick.
My mind drifted to breakfast, warm towels, and I reached the far side sooner than I realised. Turning straight round again, I swam back to Lena. She gave me an excited thumbs up as I neared the shore. Not stopping to touch the bottom, I turned again. I kept focused. The far side of the lake, the great sheer rock wall of it, rose up in front of me.
The cold was digging its claws in. 120
Breathe, arm, kick, kick.
My feet had gone numb. My shoulders creaked. I’d swum too fast, I knew I had, and being tired made the cold much harder to take. Some way behind me, Nate was also struggling.
‘I can’t …’ he gasped. ‘I … can’t.’
I doubled back on myself so we’d swim the final yards together. He hit the shore just before I did, collapsing on his hands and knees. Lena came rushing over to help.
‘Blimey, Nellie! Are you okay? What h—?’ As she crouched down next to him, she realised her mistake. ‘Oops! Sorry – I mean Nate, don’t I?’
Nate wobbled to his feet. ‘Thought you said the caps made us easier to spot in the water.’
‘It’s the costumes, the caps, and you’re in and out so quickly,’ Lena tried to explain. ‘But I should’ve realised Nellie wouldn’t collapse like that.’
‘You’re right,’ Nate replied grimly. ‘She wouldn’t.’
We dressed quickly and in heavy silence. Just a week ago, when we’d started training, we’d been eager and hopeful. But something had changed. Yes, the cold had been particularly sharp this morning, but what bothered me was Nate himself.
‘Next time eat a smaller breakfast,’ I advised him. 121
‘That’s not the only problem, though, is it?’ he said.
His shoulders slumped.
‘Actually, I’ve not been completely honest. You see, it’s not only words that muddle me – it’s schedules and timetables, and remembering where I’m supposed to be and when.’
‘Oh.’ Though I didn’t quite understand, I saw how frustrated he was – so much so there were tears in his eyes.
‘As for the swimming, well, I’m fooling myself, aren’t I? It’s obvious I’m not good enough.’
‘We could train on Wednesdays too, if you want?’ I suggested.
‘That’s decent of you.’ Nate smiled weakly. ‘But I’ve pretty much decided. It’s best for everyone if I go back to school and finish the year properly.’
I stared at him in surprise. ‘Do you want to do that?’
‘Of course not!’ He said it with such force I realised then that this was what he wanted – not the swim, not the glory of being the first child across the Channel. What he wanted more than anything was not to go back to the school where bullies had made his life a misery.
We trudged up the slope.
‘I am sorry,’ Lena said. ‘I didn’t mean to offend anyone. 122It’s just you did look so alike for a moment.’
Nate tried to make a joke of it. ‘Perhaps you need your eyes testing, old girl?’
I stopped as the idea dawned on me.
‘What date is your swim, Nate?’ I asked.
‘They’re hoping for June: it’s not yet been confirmed.’
Lena and me shared a look: June was also the month of the village deadline.
‘And the time?’ I asked.
‘The middle of the night.’ Nate stopped. ‘Why are you asking?’
‘Well.’ I paused: my heart was racing. ‘If Lena made a mistake with our costumes and caps, who’s to say it couldn’t happen again? Especially in the heat of the moment, when you’re about to start your swim, in the dark, with the pressure on.’
A slow, mischievous smile spread over Lena’s face. She understood my meaning exactly. Nate, though, had gone very quiet.
I felt suddenly wrong-footed. Deep down, I suspected part of Nate did want to do the swim, and get his name in the history books. Plus, was doing it to please his dad such a terrible thing? If I ever swam the Channel I’d do it for Lena.
‘Sorry,’ I said, back-pedalling. ‘I just thought—’ 123
‘We could swap places, like I suggested the other day?’ Nate asked.
‘Well …’ I picked a loose thread on my coat sleeve. ‘We could pretend to train you, only train me instead.’
‘Which would keep you here in Syndercombe, wouldn’t it?’ Lena chipped in. ‘So you wouldn’t have to go back to school.’
Nate’s eyes went dinner-plate wide. ‘By jingo! If we could make it work that would be—’
‘The answer to all our prayers?’ suggested Lena.
‘Would it, though?’ Suddenly, I wasn’t sure. ‘What about afterwards when they realise we’ve swapped? Nate’s dad’ll go spare!’
‘It won’t matter by then,’ Nate replied. ‘My prep school finishes at the end of June. When the term begins again in September I’ll be starting at senior school, hopefully without the bullies.’
I trembled with excitement: could it work?
‘What about the Channel Swimming people?’ I pressed. ‘You said everything had to be done officially.’
‘We’ll find a way,’ Lena assured me. ‘We have to, Nellie, don’t we?’
I nodded so fast I felt dizzy. This wasn’t just about doing the swim or helping Nate out of a fix. It was about our future, mine and Lena’s. The sponsorship 124money would keep us both in dinners and clothes and swimming lessons for years. Ma Blackwell wouldn’t have to send Lena home or me to the orphanage. She’d never have to worry about money again.
But could us swapping places really work? There’d be officials everywhere – the pilot, Captain Farley, Mrs Lamb and someone from the chewing gum company. Not to mention all the newspapers who’d want to capture the big event.
And what would happen at the end when it was me, not Nate, walking up the beach in France? What if the sponsors didn’t pay up?
Nate brushed it off. ‘Ah, you’ll be so famous every news reporter will want your story.’
‘And if the swim is allowed,’ Lena reminded me. ‘And the sponsors do pay you the money—’
‘It’ll be blooming brilliant!’ I admitted.
Though the idea we might get away with it was the wildest thing I’d ever heard.
*
Yet Lena wasn’t the only one to mistake me for Nate, because a few days later it happened again. Without warning, Captain Farley appeared at the gravel pits to 125watch us train. I was the only one in the water at the time, cap and costume on, swimming my laps. It was pure luck that Lena and Nate were on the far side of the gravel pit, and the weather so raw that they were almost hidden under thick coats and an old horse blanket.
The captain stayed for what felt like ages. I tried to swim as normal, concentrating on my breathing and my stroke. But I was nervous – and grew more so when I saw he’d moved closer to where the others were sitting. I hoped Lena had a good excuse ready for why it was me, not Nate, in the water. Or that Nate would charm his way out of the situation. We couldn’t have the captain getting suspicious: if he did, the swap idea would be over before it’d properly begun.
I was expecting the worst, when the captain called out: ‘Bravo, young man! You’ve come on leaps and bounds these past weeks!’
My stroke slowed as I realised he didn’t recognise me, either. The orange cap, the black costume, the distance across the water, all convinced him that I was Nate. He hadn’t even recognised the difference in our swimming styles. Thrilled, I glanced at Lena, who, from under the shelter of the horse blanket, was giving me a thumbs up. The mistake we were pinning our hopes on had worked – again! 126
Once the captain had finally gone and I exited the water, I felt deliriously happy.
This time it was Nate’s turn to be cautious.
‘We’ve got to get you on to the pilot’s boat first, old bean, to give you an official reason to be there,’ he said.
I nodded to show I’d understood, that I was ready, whatever it took.