I laugh, I probably do.
Ten minutes later, I feel more positive. I know Kath’s shifts, and she says I can call her after my races and whenever I feel a panic attack coming.
Tugging on a spare thread on the bedcover, I try to work up the courage to ask her something.
“Could—” I pause. “Could you maybe record me a message? Just a short one. But in case you’re actually working and I can’t get through. You don’t have to. Sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
I keep my eyes fixed on the loose thread between my fingers, winding it tighter and tighter around my thumb. The silence stretches long enough that I start regretting the question entirely.
For a second I think I’ve pushed too far. That I’ve asked for something that belongs to a version of us that doesn’t exist anymore. A version that will never exist again because I was the one that broke it.
“I can do that,” she says eventually.
The knot in my chest loosens.
“You should probably do some more stretching or something,” she adds lightly. “But I’ll send it over later. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I tell her quietly.
For a second it feels like she might say something else. Then the line clicks and she hangs up.
Six days, I repeat to myself. Then I can think about what I want to do next.
Chapter 44
Twenty-five years old
Kath
Every time I open my phone, there seems to be a photo of Sam. He’s all over social media, and highlights of his races play on TV in the evenings and even appear on the news. I couldn’t have avoided his races if I wanted to. My lips turn up in amusement as I read an article referring to him as ‘Golden Boy’. Old nicknames die hard, I guess.
He’s been looking more like himself over the last few days. And he’s swum so well that I don’t think anyone would be able to guess what’s going on in his head. Gold in the 200m freestyle, silver in the butterfly, and then a bronze in the men’s medley relay. I smile thinking about the last interview he did, it was with Mel Braithwaite and the rest of the relay team after they’d finished their race yesterday.
“I’ve always admired the team,” Charlie, who swum the backstroke, had said. “I remember being fourteen and watching Sam win a gold at Rio. Getting to swim with him now is amazing.”
“How does that sound, Sam?” Mel asked, and he laughed, looking the most relaxed I’d ever seen him in an interview.
“It makes me feel older than I am, Mel.” He patted Charlie on the shoulder. “Truthfully, it’s fantastic. We have such a talented team. So manyyoung swimmers coming through our programme. Charlie swam amazingly, and I can’t wait to see what the next few years have in store for him.” He faced Charlie with a smile. “You’re one to watch, mate.”
“What do the next few years have in store for you, Sam?” Mel asked. “You’re only twenty-five. You’re our most decorated swimmer. Are you excited for the next Olympics?”
There was a long pause. A pause I’d spent analysing every inch of his face. The set of his shoulders, the way the water from his hair was dripping down his forehead.
“I think I need to spend a bit of time working out what I want to do next, if I’m honest,” he’d said. “I’m going to take a few weeks to just let this all sink in. I might come back home. I need to work out what my future holds and whether that future involves swimming.”
They’d all look at him shocked. It wasn’t a retirement announcement. But it wasn’t exactly far off.
“Well, swimming will miss you, if you leave,” Mel told him, and the others on the team nodded along.
I was left thinking about what that might mean for him. The next Olympics is in London. A home Olympics, in the city where we grew up. It would be incredible. But if he no longer enjoys swimming, I don’t want him to put himself through all that stress. He’s achieved what he wanted, and if he stops, he can do it with his head held high.
Sam calls me as I’m just about to go on a walk.
“I’m free.” He heaves out a sigh.
“You survived the six days, well done.” I fish around for my keys and grab my sunglasses.
We chat idly as I leave the flat. It’s a beautiful day and Hampstead Heath is full of other walkers. A breeze stirs some of the trees as I walk.
