Page 37 of The Pieces of Us
‘Nope. But I called her, and she was free, and she’s here now.’ Lisa slides a plate of pancakes across the table to me. ‘And I’m paying her wages for today.’
I stare at her. ‘The hell you are. But why is she here?’
‘Because neither of us is working today, and we’re going swimming. In the sea.’
‘Are you crazy?’
She laughs. ‘Maybe. But I’m also well prepared. There’s a stack of towels, Dryrobes, woolly hats and flasks in the back of the van.’
‘Dryrobes?’
‘They’re amazing. Like a giant fleecy shelter. And they’re not legit Dryrobes – I got the Aldi version. But just as good in my opinion.’
‘Check you out – an expert.’
‘Oh, hardly. Charlie and I have been down to Ayrshire a few times. So many great places to swim along the coast. Well, we don’t really swim. Just bob around for as long as we can bear it.’
I laugh. ‘It sounds like torture.’
‘It sort of is.’ She laughs too. ‘But it’s so worth it, Cat. You feel incredible afterwards.’
‘Lisa, I can’t go swimming in the sea today. That’s ridiculous.’
She leans against the countertop. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Because I have stuff to do here for starters. Laundry and …’
‘And?’
‘More laundry.’
‘Fuck the laundry,’ she says. ‘Seriously. You’re going to eat those pancakes and then get out of your jammies. Charlie will be here in half an hour. He’s not working today either, so he’s going to be our driver, towel carrier, hot chocolate maker.’
‘You’re a funny, funny lady, Lisa Barr.’
She reaches out, takes hold of my arm. ‘I’m being serious, Cat McAllister. Eat up and go and find your swimsuit. You must have one festering in a drawer somewhere.’
‘Lisa. I love you. I’d do almost anything with you. But getting frostbite is not on that list.’
‘It’s May.’
‘It’s Scotland .’
‘I promise I won’t let you get frostbite.’
I look down at her fingers, wrapped round my elbow. Gentle but firm.
‘Have I ever broken a promise to you? Get your positive pants on. And your swimsuit.’
‘Minnie –’
‘Lena is here with Minnie. Minnie is fine. You’ll be back in three hours, tops. We won’t be in the water for long, believe me.’ Finally she releases my arm and nudges me towards the kitchen door. ‘Go. Go and get your stuff. Swimsuit and flip-flops, that’s all you need. You’ll love it. I promise.’
By the time we’re back in Glasgow, salty and sandy, Lisa still hasn’t broken a promise to me.
I did love it. After I hated it – when the cold water lapped over my toes and my ankles and my calves; when I stopped walking after it reached my knees, when I stared at Lisa, open-mouthed: ‘You do this for fun ?’
‘Fun. And mental health.’
‘Oh, don’t play the mental health card.’ I inched forward and gasped as the water hit my inner thighs. ‘Lisa, this is fucking freezing. ’
She laughed. ‘That’s kind of the point. Want to take my hand?’
I did. We walked together into the sea slowly. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
‘Me neither. A stubborn bugger like you. I think the shoulders are the worst bit, you know.’
‘I’m still ten miles away from my shoulders.’
‘Let’s keep walking. Get it over with.’
I laughed. ‘Why am I so scared?’
‘It’s the fear of the unknown,’ she told me. ‘Come on. Those shoulders will be under the water in seconds.’
‘I’m not putting my head under,’ I said firmly.
‘Oh God, me neither. I’m not that keen. Anyway, our hats would get soggy.’
‘OK. OK. Let’s do it.’
‘I’m going to count us down. Ready?’
I nodded, and shivered, and giggled, and realized my toes were numb.
‘Three … two …’
‘Wait!’ My voice was a loud squeak.
She laughed. ‘Cat. Come on.’
‘This is crazy. Give me a second.’ I looked up at the static grey sky.
Then down to the horizon, my eyes following the subtle bumps of the Isle of Arran, only fifteen miles across the sea from where we stood.
Minnie used to take me there on the ferry during the school holidays.
We’d play crazy golf and marvel at Glenashdale Falls and take the bus to the castle, then get chips from the place near the ferry terminal and eat them while we waited to go back to the mainland.
‘I’m going to take Minnie to Arran,’ I told Lisa. ‘Why not? I’ll see if I can hire a wheelchair. You could come with us? Charlie could fit a wheelchair in the back of his van, yeah?’
‘Yes to all of that. But stop stalling and get your ass in that water.’
‘OK. I’m ready. Start the countdown again.’
She did, and we walked, squealing, gasping, until our entire bodies were submerged.
It took my breath away. I remembered Lisa’s advice, shared on the journey here: Don’t panic. Just breathe. One breath at a time.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic. Just breathe.
Don’t panic. Just breathe. One breath at a time.
It reminds me of Asim and his mother’s mantra, shared with me the very first time we met. I feel my body relax a little in the intense wintry water. Piece by piece.
‘Keep moving around. Just let me know when you want to get out,’ Lisa said.
‘What’s the longest you’ve stayed in?’
‘Eleven minutes.’
‘You’re a machine,’ I groaned.
‘Are you feeling OK? Not dizzy? Your skin’s not burning?’
‘I’m fucking freezing, but I feel OK.’
She had her phone in a waterproof case on a lanyard round her neck. ‘Let me take a selfie.’
For once I didn’t object. I pressed my head against hers, wool against wool, and grinned.
‘That’s awesome,’ she said, showing me the screen. Even through the plastic case I could see our huge smiles, our lively eyes.
‘Awesome,’ I agreed.
I managed four and a half minutes in the water. ‘That’s enough,’ I told her, and she took my hand and led me on to the sand, where Charlie was waiting with the knock-off Dryrobes.