Swimming Home

by Mary-Rose MacColl

  When Heindrick came back to talk to Mr Black, he asked Catherine if she’d like to join Sam up the front. She went into the cockpit. You could see the whole world, she thought. The mountains in front of them were covered in snow—she’d never seen it before. ‘Oh, it’s so very marvellous,’ Catherine said.

  She took the seat next to Sam and he delighted in her sense of wonder. He said he never got sick of it. He’d learned to fly in the last months of the war. ‘In the end, I didn’t get to do much flying,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t been home yet. Plenty of work for pilots now.’

  ‘Do you miss home?’ Catherine said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I live in mountains like those ones down there. It’s nothing like England. We get so much snow through the winter and even the summers are cold. It’s beautiful. But you’re not from England either if that accent’s anything to go by.’

  ‘I grew up in Australia.’

  ‘Do you miss home?’

  Suddenly Catherine thought she might cry. She nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I … It doesn’t usually upset me so much.’ She swallowed her tears. ‘Tell me more about the mountains,’ she said.

  In the summers, he said, he and his brother had set a goal to climb every mountain you could see from the town. ‘We’d nearly done it too. I’ll finish if I ever get back there.’

  ‘I think you will,’ Catherine said.

  Just then, Andrew poked his head into the cockpit. ‘Here you are. I thought you might have jumped in to swim the rest of the way down the Seine.’

  Catherine turned to him and smiled. ‘You must be feeling better. You’re making bad jokes.’

  ‘Better enough,’ he said. ‘You know she’s a swimmer?’ he told Sam. ‘I’m surprised we’re not down in the drink.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Catherine said to Sam before she left the cockpit. She felt strangely light, as if she’d been sitting in the kitchen on the island with Florence rather than up in the sky with a perfect stranger from a country she’d never seen.

  Louisa was feeling better too. ‘This is not what I expected,’ she said.

  ‘I love it,’ Catherine said. ‘Sam showed me how he flies the aeroplane. He’s from the mountains in Canada. It sounds like magic.’

  ‘Aren’t there bears in Canada?’

  ‘Louisa, you make everything something to be afraid of.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘No, but it was just lovely to …’

  ‘To what?’

  ‘Nothing. Anyway, we’re landing in fifteen minutes. In Paris, Louisa.’

  They came down quickly and landed at the little airstrip with three bumps, a perfect landing, Mr Black said. They caught taxis from the airstrip to the Hotel de Crillon as the light was fading, passing green fields in late sunshine, cows still out in pasture, little villages. As they approached the city itself, Catherine’s eyes couldn’t take it in fast enough. Andrew was glib, chattering constantly about what they’d do the next day, pointing casually towards the Arc de Triomphe and the Place de la Concorde as they passed. Andrew had been to Paris, but Catherine was in awe. It was as she’d thought London might be, she realised. It was beautiful.

  She and Louisa were sharing an apartment that looked over the Place de la Concorde. They’d giggled when they first saw the bathroom. It had a bidet and Catherine had said there were two lavatories, in case they both needed one, she guessed, not knowing what a bidet was for. Learning its function didn’t make it any less funny and the two of them collapsed on the beds laughing at nothing. They unpacked their things, dressed and went down for dinner in the hotel dining room.

  The next morning Catherine was in the dining room late for breakfast. She’d been for a walk on her own earlier in the morning and had just kept walking, under a gentle fog. She went down towards the river and through a park where the trees were dropping their leaves. She’d crossed over the river and back, mesmerised at the beauty of the buildings. She’d come upon Notre-Dame Cathedral not knowing what it was at first. She’d gone in and sat for a few minutes. The silence reminded her of nights on the island.

  Mr Black came into the dining room now. He saw Catherine and smiled. ‘Miss Quick,’ he said.

  ‘Hello, Mr Black. I’ve been out walking.’

  ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

  ‘Of course not. But you’re supposed to call me Catherine. I’m just a girl, you know.’

  ‘Catherine, then,’ he said and smiled. ‘But you’re not just a girl. You’re a champion. You hear?’ He waggled a finger and looked at her mock-sternly. He was very sweet, in his way, she thought. The day before, when they’d dropped the bunches of flowers for his daughter, she’d seen him lean against the window and wave madly. Then he wiped his eye. Catherine had thought it was a tear he wiped away.

  He called the waiter over, ordered coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for Catherine, and milk toast and two-minute eggs. Even with Catherine interpreting it took some minutes for the order to be understood, as Catherine herself didn’t know what milk toast and two-minute eggs were.

  ‘I used to eat my eggs like that,’ she said when the waiter had gone.

  ‘You did?’ he said, smiling. ‘Well, isn’t that something?’

  ‘I wouldn’t eat the whites, only the yolk, and then Florence stopped making eggs for me because she said it was too wasteful.’

  ‘I still don’t eat the whites,’ Mr Black said. ‘An indulgence.’

  He was in his dark grey suit, his hair neatly combed back from his forehead. It wanted to spring up, by the look of it. His face was pink, like her father’s just after he shaved in the morning and Catherine felt a pull of sadness in her heart.

  ‘So, how are you liking Paris?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s so beautiful,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us.’

  He waved away her thanks. ‘Now, Catherine, your aunt does a fine job with her clinic, a fine job that should be recognised. I’m thrilled she’s going to come and help us out in Baltimore. Whatever small thing I can do to make her life more pleasant, I’m more than willing. But, my dear, you want to swim.’ He raised his eyebrows.

  Did she want to swim?

  ‘And I have an interest in swimming.’

  ‘Mr Black, swimming got me in an awful lot of trouble.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I was expelled.’ Louisa had said they wouldn’t tell anyone this but Catherine wanted to tell him. He was a link to her mother, she thought, to the people who might be like her.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he said, as if being expelled was nothing. Louisa must have told him. Catherine was surprised. ‘But I also saw you cross that river. And while I am not a betting man, I would bet anything that you are the fastest and strongest woman swimmer on earth. And I’d like to help.’

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘So what do you think, Catherine?’

  ‘I don’t really know,’ she said. ‘I’ve never thought about swimming. It just is.’

  He laughed. ‘That will be great with the reporters. I’ve never thought about swimming. It just is.’ He chuckled again.

  ‘Mr Black, you knew my mother.’

  He looked at her. ‘A little,’ he said.

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘Julia? Oh, they moved away when she was young, so I hardly knew her as a child. I saw her again with your father. She was very pretty, a lot like you.’ He smiled. It disappeared quickly.

  Catherine nodded. ‘I don’t remember her and I was thinking that in America, I could meet more people from her family.’

  ‘Her parents are still in Canada,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure we can get in touch with them. Julia was an only child, wasn’t she? There might be others on that side. I should know, I suppose, but I don’t.’ He eyed her carefully. ‘You do want to swim as well, don’t you, Catherine?’ he said.

  ‘I do.’
How could she explain to him that his question made no sense? It was like asking if she wanted to breathe.

  ‘Well, let’s see if we can work on your aunt so that you can.’ He stood then. ‘I must go. I’m glad you’re enjoying the trip.’

  After he left, Catherine noticed that he’d eaten hardly any of his toast and eggs.

  18

  ‘SHE COULD BE THE ONE, LOUISA.’ THEY WERE SITTING IN the little bar across the square from the hotel. Louisa and Catherine had spent the morning with Andrew. In the afternoon Louisa had gone to the Sorbonne, where a doctor she’d served with during the war was now working. They’d spent a couple of hours reminiscing about those days when they thought the sky would be the limit for women doctors from now on. Hah, Louisa could have said now. What young fools they were.

  Black had spent the day in the hotel, staving off a bid to buy his newspaper, he said when they met up for a drink. He looked tired around the eyes.

  ‘And she wants to swim,’ he said.

  ‘Well, of course she’ll want to swim. She also wants to go back to the island.’ Louisa thought then of the letters. There had been a second, addressed in a different hand. Perhaps it was from Florence. Louisa hadn’t read it—she’d decided that would be unethical—but she hadn’t given it to Catherine either. It was September now. Louisa’s plan was to take Catherine to America in the new year—it would take that long to get the clinic sorted out and deal with the inspector. Catherine could meet the swimmers Black had spoken about and then come home and Louisa would find a school. Maybe she could board in Glasgow, Louisa thought, or go to the Spitalfields public school. She needn’t go back to Henley. As for the letters, well, Louisa would see.

  ‘I don’t think any of us know what we want at fifteen,’ Louisa said to Black. She thought of her own girlhood and felt a stab of something. Regret? There was never any question for Louisa. She was going to do medicine. She looked squarely at him. ‘I want Catherine to go back to school. It’s the only thing that will secure a future for her.’

  The waiter came over and Black ordered another martini for himself. Louisa was still going on her first. The hotel’s bar was cosy and looked out onto a little square. ‘Do you know, I’ve never really noticed this,’ Louisa said, ‘but Paris is terribly beautiful.’

  ‘You’ve never noticed?’ Black said. ‘How did you miss it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t take it in, I suppose. Always something else to be thinking about.’ She took a small sip of her drink. ‘Lear, I understand you want advice for your clinic. But why Catherine? Why swimming?’ In truth, she was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. He’d originally come to see her about the clinic, getting her advice, but now he seemed more interested in Catherine and swimming. He’d approached Catherine that morning, Catherine had told Louisa. He’d said something about the English Channel, that she should swim the English Channel.

  ‘Two reasons, both quite selfish,’ he said, watching her carefully. ‘I mentioned I’ve had some interest in my newspaper business back in Baltimore. The paper I own, the Baltimore Sun, is not the oldest or most distinguished newspaper. I bought into it when it was in trouble ten years ago and found I like being a newspaperman. Our main competition then was the News, which was recently bought by Mr Hearst. They have a longer history than us, and they’ve modernised better. And Mr Hearst is very good at this newspaper business.

  ‘There’s a third paper, the Baltimore Daily Post. It’s a bit like your Mirror, lots of pictures, gossip—things, it turns out, readers want. The Post is better than us at creating stories people want to read, and the News is better at reporting. So we’re a bit betwixt and between. All of this is a way of explaining that I do understand why my advisers are urging me to sell. I bought a lemon.’ He took a sip of his drink, examined the back of his other hand.

  ‘It’s possible I’ve been a bit slow to realise that the people who want to buy us out are quite serious. I’m under pressure now, you see.’

  ‘I don’t see how this is relevant to Catherine.’

  ‘No, I don’t imagine you do.’ He fiddled with a jar of toothpicks on the table, straightening them. ‘It’s funny the way things happen. I told you about the Women’s Swimming Association. I’ve been able to support the Association over the years.’ He took a cigar from his pocket. ‘Do you mind?’ She shook her head. He lit up, blew smoke into the air above them. ‘And it’s become very obvious to me that women’s swimming is of interest to readers.’

  ‘Women’s swimming,’ Louisa said. Pictures of women half-naked more like, she didn’t say. Is that what had attracted him? ‘So your newspaper needs women swimmers?’

  ‘Yes, the blasted Post has signed up Lillian Cannon.’ Louisa must have looked confused. ‘She’s a Baltimore native who swam Chesapeake last year. The Post is financing her attempt at the English Channel. They got to her before I did. And she has those dogs.’

  ‘Dogs,’ Louisa said.

  ‘Yes, Chesapeake Bay Retrievers. Everyone loves them.’

  ‘You think Catherine could beat her?’

  ‘Oh, I know Catherine could beat Lillian Cannon. The Association has another swimmer, a little older than Catherine, Gertrude Ederle. I met Gertrude. She’s not what I want.’

  ‘Is she a good swimmer?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s more than swimming. Gertrude’s New York, which won’t go down well in Baltimore. And she’s from German stock, which isn’t quite what I want either. And I want someone who can communicate.’

  ‘Catherine?’

  ‘Yes. She grew up on an island, learned to swim from natives, and she’s British stock but colonial, which is about perfect. She can talk. If she made good in America, the land where anyone can succeed, wouldn’t that be marvellous? She’s exactly what I want.’

  ‘Well, you have a whole plan, don’t you?’ Louisa said, taking another small sip of her martini. It still made her uneasy, she realised. Black had invited them to the party on his yacht. Now he’d paid their way to Paris. He was footing the hotel bill; insisted on it, in fact. Dinner last night and tonight, the accommodation. He was taking them to America, all expenses paid. He was going to contribute to the clinic—they’d come to an agreement. He was going to fund a major upgrade to the Princes Square building. They couldn’t do without him now, Louisa realised. If he wanted Catherine to become a competitive swimmer rather than go back to school, would Louisa be in any position to refuse him? Even Catherine was vulnerable to his charm, it seemed. Catherine saw Black as a way to her mother’s family. She seemed fascinated by him. He was all she talked about over lunch.

  As if he read her thoughts, he said, ‘Louisa, I’m not going to push anyone around here. But when I found out who the swimmer I saw was, when I found out that her guardian was you, Dr Louisa Quick, who I’d already intended to visit, I thought something was acting on us here. I am a great believer in serendipity.’

  ‘You said there were two reasons. What’s the other one?’

  He paused, took a puff of his cigar, blew smoke towards the ceiling. ‘I’ll tell you another time,’ he said. ‘You know, when I was Catherine’s age, I worked hard. I left school, went into the bank. And then it became a habit, I suppose. I didn’t ever get used to not working hard.’ Louisa noticed the look on his face, the momentary sadness—it was this she liked in him, this sadness that he wore with such dignity. It was still there when he smiled. It made him more human. Oh, there was the charm, the power of the man, but it was this sadness she could relate to.

  She smiled. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said. ‘My colleagues sometimes ask if I have regrets. They mean not having a husband, not having children. But you see, I don’t regret it at all. I have my work. Why would I want children?’

  ‘You have a child now,’ he said, narrowing his eyes.

  The waiter came with more drinks.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said after the waiter withdrew. ‘And Mrs Black. Is she back in Baltimore?’

  He s
miled. ‘You’re thinking of my daughter, of course. Well, there is no Mrs Black. Adeline is the product of an affair I had with a singer here in Paris.’ He looked at her squarely. ‘Are you shocked?’

  Louisa smiled. ‘I’m a doctor, Mr Black. It would take more than an unwanted pregnancy to shock me. And Adeline’s mother?’

  ‘Died ten years ago,’ Black said. ‘I sent Adeline to the school. But you are the conundrum, not me. Men don’t marry because they don’t marry. But women marry. And yet, you never married?’

  ‘No,’ she said curtly. ‘Do you have siblings other than your sister?’

  He shook his head. ‘And you, just the two brothers?’

  ‘Yes. My mother lost a child, another girl, after Alexander and before me. She died in my father’s arms, apparently.’ Inexplicably, Louisa found tears in her eyes, thinking about the sister she never knew taking her last breath, her poor father seeing his child out of life. She breathed in sharply. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t quite know what’s come over me.’ His eyes were so soft. ‘Anyway, I had two futures to live up to, my sister’s and mine. Alexander followed Papa into the business, so he was allowed certain concessions. Harry more or less did as he pleased and nothing he did worried our mother. Were you close to your sister?’ He kept switching the conversation back to her, she noticed, and she wanted to know about him, especially as he was now so interested in Catherine.

  He nodded but didn’t speak, looked out towards the street. ‘Do you know, I made a little fun of you before for not noticing the beauty of Paris,’ he said finally. ‘But when I think about it, I don’t believe I’ve ever noticed it much either.’ He smiled. ‘I’m not very good at enjoying myself.’

  ‘That’s what Nellie, my housekeeper, says about me—that I can’t enjoy myself. I enjoy work.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘And we could drink to that. But here we are, two lost souls in their sunset years looking for some sort of life.’