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NOW

Back in their bedroom, Sophie slipped into jeans and a T-shirt, the clean, soft clothes feeling good against her freshly showered skin. Her body felt strong, supple; fitter than it had in her twenties since she’d taken up rowing three years ago and had amazed herself by falling in love with it.

That first morning, she was surprised at the temperature on leaving the house. The days had been cool recently and she’d expected to feel chilly, but the early morning air was surprisingly pleasant. It was 4.45a.m., a time she’d never willingly seen before, and she had a whole day of teaching scheduled in for after the row. She was already regretting it.

Will’s Audi was waiting in the street behind her apartment block, its lights on although barely necessary; the sun had already half-risen and the sky was white and bright and luminous. She took a breath, then walked to the car, pulling open the door and sliding herself in. ‘Morning,’ she said.

‘Morning yourself. I didn’t think you’d come.’

‘Oh. Well, a promise is a promise,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light.

‘It is at that,’ he said, starting the engine, ‘and you are not going to regret this.’

‘So you keep saying,’ she told him, and was rewarded with one of his easy, relaxed smiles.

They set off through the city streets, passing early morning cyclists, and late night revellers returning home to bed. Market traders were making their way to the centre, and one or two insomniacs walked their dogs. Will parked in a precariously small space between a van and a motorbike then turned to her. ‘We have to walk the rest, I’m afraid. Parking’s a bitch.’

She’d been worried that she’d have to join the club or have a lesson or something equally painful before taking Will up on his challenge, but he’d explained that the club was pretty relaxed about things like that. ‘As long as you’re with a member, it’ll be fine,’ he’d said.

‘I suppose this is where you take all the girls,’ she quipped then stopped, embarrassed.

But he laughed. ‘Only the ones that will agree to it,’ he said, ‘so you’re pretty much the first.’

They arrived and he left her standing on the bank for a moment as he disappeared into the clubhouse. He returned shortly with a smile. ‘OK, we’re good to go!’ He pointed at the white rowing boats lined up at the edge of the water. ‘Your carriage awaits, m’lady.’ He flung his backpack into the vessel, then used the rope to pull it up against the shore, making it safe for her to stumble across without falling.

Feeling her heart rate increase, she stepped into the boat, which wobbled precariously as she lowered herself onto the seat. Will watched her, amused, before climbing in himself, setting the vessel off again. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, turning to her where she sat behind him. ‘You’ll get your sea legs soon enough!’

‘Sea legs? Isn’t this a river?’

‘See! You’re already an expert.’

He handed her an oar, which was heavier and more unwieldy than she’d imagined, and pushed off with his own oar, paddling one side to straighten the boat. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘just follow my lead.’

She dipped one end of the oar into the water and pulled, hearing the gentle sound of the river lapping against the boat.

‘Keep it steady,’ Will advised. ‘Try to stay in sync with me. That’s it.’

And suddenly, she found a wobbly, but distinct rhythm in her movement. Her attention focused in on the rowing, the sounds of wildlife and birds and the distant sound of traffic as the day came into itself. The sun sparkled on the river’s surface and the water foamed as she pulled it again and again and again, driving the boat forward. Although it was hard work, the feeling of gliding on the transparent liquid – her heart pumping, her skin prickled with moisture – was pleasant and she found herself driving harder and picking up speed.

In the seat in front, Will laughed. ‘You’re a natural!’ he said, glancing over his shoulder at her with an enormous grin.

And it was their undoing. The boat rocked violently at his sudden movement, the sides lurching wildly as they struggled to regain control. And suddenly Sophie found herself submerged in the cold water of the Cam, water in her ears and eyes, and the oar pulled out of her hands in the process. She emerged, coughing and spluttering, to find Will by her side, next to their overturned boat. His worried expression smoothed as he saw she was OK. ‘Come on,’ he said, swimming towards the bank, tugging the boat behind him. She followed and they clambered up, water streaming from their clothing.

And although the whole experience had been shocking, and although she felt freezing and weighed down and utterly disgusting, when Sophie looked at Will and saw the barely disguised amusement in his eyes, she found laughter bubbling up inside her.

He caught the mood and suddenly together they were shaking with half-suppressed giggles, her leaning towards him, him towards her. ‘I can’t believe we…’ she gasped.

‘Told you it was relaxing,’ he replied, before letting out another bark of laughter.

Once the humour had subsided and the cold had fully seeped in, Will stood up. ‘I’d give you my jumper, but…’ He gestured to the damp wool as it clung to his chest. ‘Oh, but hang on!’ He rummaged in his backpack. ‘Yes!’ He held up a fleece, as triumphant as an angler hooking an enormous fish. ‘It’s still dry.’

‘Oh, God. No. You have it,’ she said as he offered it to her.

‘Come on, Soph. I have an extra layer of fat to keep me warm.’

The cold had reached her bones now and it was impossible to refuse. ‘OK, thank you.’

He turned his back as she pulled her top and T-shirt over her head, holding the fleece out behind him for her to grab. She slipped it over her head, feeling an instant shiver of grateful warmth.

‘Thanks.’

He turned. ‘Suits you!’ he said, noting how swamped she was in the man-size garment.

‘Thanks. You know you should take yours off.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘Your jumper. I know you don’t have anything to replace it with, it’s just… it’ll make you colder, I think.’

He nodded and slipped the jumper over his head, revealing a little glimpse of belly button that made him somehow seem boyish. His T-shirt clung to his chest underneath and she could see the pink of his flesh through the material. She hoped he wouldn’t freeze to death before they got back.

‘What now?’

‘Well, we’ll have to row back,’ he said with a grimace.

‘You think I’m getting back in that thing?’

‘It’s that or walk back to the club – no one’s letting you in a taxi in that state.’

She looked down at herself. It was true. Nobody was going to let her soak their upholstery. ‘Bugger,’ she said. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so funny.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Will kneeled on the bank and reached into the boat with his oar, pulling the vessel towards them.

‘I don’t even have an oar!’

‘It’s just there,’ he said, pointing to where her oar had floated and was caught on the branches of an overhanging shrub.

She felt a sudden exhaustion. It was half past five, she was soaked through. The morning, although it looked promising, was still not warm enough to counter the deep ache of cold that had reached her bones. And now she had to row. She stood up with a guttural sigh.

‘Ah, come on. We’ll make a rower out of you yet,’ Will said, grinning.

But she couldn’t return his good humour. ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ she said, stepping cautiously into the boat as he held it as still as he could.

After a few attempts, she was able to lift her oar back onto the boat as Will held it steady. Then, careful not to look around, he told her again to get into the rhythm, to start rowing. She did – doggedly, determined to get to the club as soon as possible and put all this behind her.

But as she rowed, and as her body began to warm despite its sodden covering, she fell into the rhythm again, and began to feel that sense of peace she’d experienced shortly before they’d capsized.

By the time they reached the clubhouse and Will had carefully secured the boat, she was feeling, if not positive, then certainly not as negative as she had. And that was really saying something.

Standing on the bank now, Will reached out his hand to help her from the boat and she took it gratefully, feeling strange when she stood again on solid ground, her body still expecting it to lurch and buck beneath her. She looked at Will who was studying her face, his brow furrowed.

‘What?’ she said.

‘Not quite sure what to say. I mean, I guess it wasn’t the pleasant experience I was hoping for.’

‘No. Not really.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I really thought you’d enjoy it. And you know, I think you would have if I hadn’t been stupid enough to?—’

She looked at him. ‘No, I did. I did enjoy it.’

‘You did?’ He looked incredulous.

‘Yeah. I mean, not all of it,’ she said, wringing some water out of her hair pointedly.

‘Well, no.’

‘But it was good. I get what you mean. It’s hard work, but sort of soothing at the same time.’

He nodded. ‘That’s how I’ve always found it. I kind of feel different on the water – I mean, I know I’m still in Cambridge and everyone is still around, and all the things that exist in the world are still, well, there. But you kind of feel separate too, don’t you? Like you’ve escaped it all for a bit.’

‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘I get that.’

‘So you think you might be a convert?’

She smiled. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. But you know… I might try it again sometime.’

‘Good,’ Will said. ‘That’s really good.’

As they walked back to his car, wondering how she was going to protect his upholstery from her soggy back and bottom, she thought of Tom for the first time. Always in her mind, or deep in her gut where her sadness seemed to lie, he had disappeared for a moment. And although she missed him with every fibre of her being, she realised that having a break from her grief had made her feel more able to carry it once more.

Had it been then? She wondered now. Had those been the moments when she first started to fall in love with him?