the extremely antagonistic boating attendant.
Harry climbed out next to her. She lay panting on her back, looking up at him. His shirt and jeans clung soaking wet to his body; his already dark hair was soaked to black. Drops of water clung to his eyelashes and he swiped water from his face with one hand.
‘Still think you’re not strung out?’ he said.
* * *
The boat attendant had a face like thunder, muttering about vandals abusing the facilities and threatening to call security.
She hauled herself up onto her elbows indignantly.
‘I’m not some teenager with an ASBO,’ she said, through chattering teeth. ‘It was an accident!’
Harry got to his feet and put a restraining hand on her shivering shoulder.
‘You can’t blame him. They probably get loads of drunken yobs messing about on the lake and mentioning your damned organiser isn’t going to miraculously smooth things over. Let me handle it.’
He drew the man aside and disappeared with him inside the café.
Five minutes later and she was wrapped in a thermal foil blanket and slumped in a chair on the suntrap of a terrace. She discarded her squelchy ballet flats and tucked her cold feet underneath her, relishing the sun on her face and the sensation of feeling returning to her freezing extremities. If only the humiliation flushing through her could disappear that easily. People seated nearby were looking at her with interest.
Glancing down at herself, she realised with shock that her grey shirt was translucent when wet. Her pink lacy bra was clearly visible through it below the white goosebumpy skin of her décolletage. She snatched the foil blanket around her and held it tightly closed at the neck just as Harry, a foil blanket around his shoulders, crossed the terrace towards her with a steaming takeaway coffee in each hand.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, the moment he sat down. He put the coffee down in front of her. She waited for him to kick off, knowing she had no defence whatsoever, and trying to squash the rising panic at losing her bag, which was making a comeback now that the more immediate horror of public embarrassment and freezing to death was in decline. The bag was gone, and everything in it. There was no point in stressing about it now.
‘If they manage to turn up any of our belongings they’ll let me know,’ he said.
‘ Our belongings?’ She stared at him for a moment and suddenly realised what he meant with a rush of anguish. ‘Your sunglasses! Oh, God, I’m so sorry. And what about your phone?’
He shook his head. ‘Didn’t have it with me. Just my wallet.’ He shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Money dries. There must have been something pretty damn mind-blowing in that bag to make you want to jump in after it,’ he said. ‘Life savings?’
She shook her head.
‘My organiser,’ she said.
He stared at her, eyebrows raised, and she sat back in her chair and put her head in her hands.
How could she tell him that keeping tabs on every aspect of her life was vital? Predictability was comforting. She’d had enough nasty surprises in the past to last her a lifetime, thanks very much. She peeked through her fingers and saw his questioning expression. ‘You know, diary, appointments, that kind of thing.’
‘You upended the boat because you couldn’t be parted from your diary.’
Put like that it made her sound like a total control freak.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It probably wouldn’t matter to you if you forgot a date or turned up late to a meeting.’
He jerked a thumb back towards the water.
‘The bottom of the lake is the best place for that organiser. Think how liberating it is. Suddenly you’re living in the moment. You can let life just happen to you instead of being controlled by all those appointments, all those obligations. Take it as it comes.’
Alice felt herself pale at the thought.
‘Have you any idea how much my work success relies on me being organised?’ she said. ‘On
Harry climbed out next to her. She lay panting on her back, looking up at him. His shirt and jeans clung soaking wet to his body; his already dark hair was soaked to black. Drops of water clung to his eyelashes and he swiped water from his face with one hand.
‘Still think you’re not strung out?’ he said.
* * *
The boat attendant had a face like thunder, muttering about vandals abusing the facilities and threatening to call security.
She hauled herself up onto her elbows indignantly.
‘I’m not some teenager with an ASBO,’ she said, through chattering teeth. ‘It was an accident!’
Harry got to his feet and put a restraining hand on her shivering shoulder.
‘You can’t blame him. They probably get loads of drunken yobs messing about on the lake and mentioning your damned organiser isn’t going to miraculously smooth things over. Let me handle it.’
He drew the man aside and disappeared with him inside the café.
Five minutes later and she was wrapped in a thermal foil blanket and slumped in a chair on the suntrap of a terrace. She discarded her squelchy ballet flats and tucked her cold feet underneath her, relishing the sun on her face and the sensation of feeling returning to her freezing extremities. If only the humiliation flushing through her could disappear that easily. People seated nearby were looking at her with interest.
Glancing down at herself, she realised with shock that her grey shirt was translucent when wet. Her pink lacy bra was clearly visible through it below the white goosebumpy skin of her décolletage. She snatched the foil blanket around her and held it tightly closed at the neck just as Harry, a foil blanket around his shoulders, crossed the terrace towards her with a steaming takeaway coffee in each hand.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, the moment he sat down. He put the coffee down in front of her. She waited for him to kick off, knowing she had no defence whatsoever, and trying to squash the rising panic at losing her bag, which was making a comeback now that the more immediate horror of public embarrassment and freezing to death was in decline. The bag was gone, and everything in it. There was no point in stressing about it now.
‘If they manage to turn up any of our belongings they’ll let me know,’ he said.
‘ Our belongings?’ She stared at him for a moment and suddenly realised what he meant with a rush of anguish. ‘Your sunglasses! Oh, God, I’m so sorry. And what about your phone?’
He shook his head. ‘Didn’t have it with me. Just my wallet.’ He shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Money dries. There must have been something pretty damn mind-blowing in that bag to make you want to jump in after it,’ he said. ‘Life savings?’
She shook her head.
‘My organiser,’ she said.
He stared at her, eyebrows raised, and she sat back in her chair and put her head in her hands.
How could she tell him that keeping tabs on every aspect of her life was vital? Predictability was comforting. She’d had enough nasty surprises in the past to last her a lifetime, thanks very much. She peeked through her fingers and saw his questioning expression. ‘You know, diary, appointments, that kind of thing.’
‘You upended the boat because you couldn’t be parted from your diary.’
Put like that it made her sound like a total control freak.
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It probably wouldn’t matter to you if you forgot a date or turned up late to a meeting.’
He jerked a thumb back towards the water.
‘The bottom of the lake is the best place for that organiser. Think how liberating it is. Suddenly you’re living in the moment. You can let life just happen to you instead of being controlled by all those appointments, all those obligations. Take it as it comes.’
Alice felt herself pale at the thought.
‘Have you any idea how much my work success relies on me being organised?’ she said. ‘On
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