O Caledonia

One day Cynthia announced that she was going swimming in the sea. At the time they were returning from their Sunday afternoon walk, in crocodile as usual, marching along the shore road. On one side lay the dunes, crowned in spiky marram grass, on the other the lonely shards and splinters of the ancient cathedral. The roar of the strong wind almost drowned the distant peals of bells. “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Janet. “It’s freezing cold and the waves are all going in different directions. You’ll be sucked under and that’ll be the end of you. Not that I care, but I’ll get the blame.” “Shut up, you drip.” Cynthia twisted her wrist. “Come on, quick now, into the dunes.” Hopelessly Janet scurried after her; the sand blew into her eyes, her hat floated off down the beach. Gasping and choking, she retrieved it and crouched in the comfortless grasses. Before her lay the flotsam and jetsam of the retreating tide. The sea was swollen and evil. Only Cynthia could want to bathe at such a stupid time. It was like swimming on New Year’s Day or across the Channel, which of course was exactly what she would have in her pin-sized mind. Why couldn’t she just swim to Germany and be done with it? Germany would suit Cynthia very well, she reflected, watching the blonde athletic figure strike through the waves, turning her head from side to side in the absurd mechanical manner demanded by the crawl. Janet herself only floated or did breast stroke, keeping her head upright, well out of the water, and moving very slowly but, she believed, with a certain stately poise.

Suddenly she saw that Cynthia was not alone. Coasting and rolling, a couple of waves farther out, were two round, bobbing heads. As Cynthia turned and swam along the surge of her wave so they swam along theirs, heads turned towards her, great dark eyes gleaming with merriment through the spume. A pair of seals were having sport with Cynthia, parodying her movements, coming in closer. Janet leapt to her feet and ran to the water’s edge; she waved and pointed and shouted into the wind. Cynthia swam powerfully shorewards and strode scowling and dripping out of the water. “What’s the matter? Is someone coming?” she demanded, shaking herself like a dog so that freezing droplets flew all over Janet. “Two seals were swimming with you. Look!” They stared out at the sea. The seals were gone, there was nothing but the whelming deep. “You just made it up, didn’t you, to get me out of the water?” Janet ignored her. They tramped back to the boarding house in angry silence, mitigated for Janet by the prodigy she had seen and Cynthia had not seen.

Chapter Nine