at the pub. Then Merryman had put the kybosh on
everything.
Mind you, it sounded like a hell of a story. Two more drownings – and barely twenty-four hours after the appeal to swimmers to stay in the shallows. The papers had been full of it that
morning. He’d have to check with Bob, but he was pretty sure Windermere was the biggest of all the lakes, and it was definitely the busiest. And what if there were more deaths to come? This
was rapidly turning into the news sensation of the summer.
The lift doors opened and Seb walked, then jogged, down the corridor towards the newsroom.
The long drive down to Windermere had barely left him enough time to establish the basic facts of the story. There’d been a police press conference on the banks of the
lake at four o’clock, but all the eyewitnesses to the tragedy were holed up in the police station making statements, so there were no worthwhile interviews to be done yet.
Now it was almost five and Seb was about to go on air. It was far too late to script anything; he’d just have to busk it as a two-way ad-libbed conversation with the programme presenter up
in Carlisle. Once again the network had muscled in on the act and London was taking the interview, live.
With perfect timing the radio car was off the road having its annual service, so Seb had been forced to find a phone. He’d talked his way into a Bowness-on-Windermere hotel. The manager
had been most helpful, guiding him through to a little office behind reception.
‘Here you are, Mr Richmond, I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed. This is quite becoming
your
story, isn’t it? I heard you on the wireless yesterday.’
Seb, receiver jammed to one ear, listened to the programme’s headlines being read out and then it was his cue.
‘But first, breaking news this afternoon: another drowning in Cumbria’s lakes, a double tragedy that takes the death toll this heatwave summer to six in as many weeks. Over to
our reporter Seb Richmond, live from Lake Windermere. Seb, what can you tell us?’
Seb had made a brief list of bullet points on the back of a hotel beermat, but he didn’t really need them. The story virtually told itself.
He took a deep breath.
‘Thanks, Graham. Shock and grief are the dominant emotions here in Windermere this evening as the community struggles to come to terms with yet another tragedy. As you say, this time
not one but two lives have been simultaneously lost to this summer’s extraordinarily treacherous waters – seemingly so inviting, and yet proving to be so deadly.
‘This afternoon Cumbria police confirmed the deceased as Keswick teacher Mrs Brenda Whately and her nine-year-old daughter, Karen. Details are still being established but it appears
that the little girl had ventured some distance from the shoreline and was being summoned back by her mother when she, Karen, got into difficulties and disappeared beneath the surface. Mrs Whately,
who police say was a strong swimmer, went to her daughter’s rescue and made an attempt to dive down to find her, but then also got into trouble. A boat launched from a nearby pier eventually
located both mother and daughter, but all attempts to revive them were unsuccessful.’
The presenter’s voice broke in again.
‘I appreciate that it’s very early to speculate, Seb, but is the feeling there that this is another case of people being lured into water that may feel invitingly warm on the
surface, but remains dangerously cold just a little way down?’
Seb considered his answer.
‘Well, it’s hard to avoid that thinking, isn’t it? The specific warnings to the public about the treacherous state of the lakes this summer – this unprecedented
summer – were only issued yesterday and perhaps Mrs Whately and her daughter were unaware of them. Cumbria Police say hazard signs will shortly be erected along stretches of shoreline popular
with swimmers, and they have requested that the media play its part by giving
everything.
Mind you, it sounded like a hell of a story. Two more drownings – and barely twenty-four hours after the appeal to swimmers to stay in the shallows. The papers had been full of it that
morning. He’d have to check with Bob, but he was pretty sure Windermere was the biggest of all the lakes, and it was definitely the busiest. And what if there were more deaths to come? This
was rapidly turning into the news sensation of the summer.
The lift doors opened and Seb walked, then jogged, down the corridor towards the newsroom.
The long drive down to Windermere had barely left him enough time to establish the basic facts of the story. There’d been a police press conference on the banks of the
lake at four o’clock, but all the eyewitnesses to the tragedy were holed up in the police station making statements, so there were no worthwhile interviews to be done yet.
Now it was almost five and Seb was about to go on air. It was far too late to script anything; he’d just have to busk it as a two-way ad-libbed conversation with the programme presenter up
in Carlisle. Once again the network had muscled in on the act and London was taking the interview, live.
With perfect timing the radio car was off the road having its annual service, so Seb had been forced to find a phone. He’d talked his way into a Bowness-on-Windermere hotel. The manager
had been most helpful, guiding him through to a little office behind reception.
‘Here you are, Mr Richmond, I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed. This is quite becoming
your
story, isn’t it? I heard you on the wireless yesterday.’
Seb, receiver jammed to one ear, listened to the programme’s headlines being read out and then it was his cue.
‘But first, breaking news this afternoon: another drowning in Cumbria’s lakes, a double tragedy that takes the death toll this heatwave summer to six in as many weeks. Over to
our reporter Seb Richmond, live from Lake Windermere. Seb, what can you tell us?’
Seb had made a brief list of bullet points on the back of a hotel beermat, but he didn’t really need them. The story virtually told itself.
He took a deep breath.
‘Thanks, Graham. Shock and grief are the dominant emotions here in Windermere this evening as the community struggles to come to terms with yet another tragedy. As you say, this time
not one but two lives have been simultaneously lost to this summer’s extraordinarily treacherous waters – seemingly so inviting, and yet proving to be so deadly.
‘This afternoon Cumbria police confirmed the deceased as Keswick teacher Mrs Brenda Whately and her nine-year-old daughter, Karen. Details are still being established but it appears
that the little girl had ventured some distance from the shoreline and was being summoned back by her mother when she, Karen, got into difficulties and disappeared beneath the surface. Mrs Whately,
who police say was a strong swimmer, went to her daughter’s rescue and made an attempt to dive down to find her, but then also got into trouble. A boat launched from a nearby pier eventually
located both mother and daughter, but all attempts to revive them were unsuccessful.’
The presenter’s voice broke in again.
‘I appreciate that it’s very early to speculate, Seb, but is the feeling there that this is another case of people being lured into water that may feel invitingly warm on the
surface, but remains dangerously cold just a little way down?’
Seb considered his answer.
‘Well, it’s hard to avoid that thinking, isn’t it? The specific warnings to the public about the treacherous state of the lakes this summer – this unprecedented
summer – were only issued yesterday and perhaps Mrs Whately and her daughter were unaware of them. Cumbria Police say hazard signs will shortly be erected along stretches of shoreline popular
with swimmers, and they have requested that the media play its part by giving
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