Page 85 of The House Swap

Determined to try to enjoy herself, she made the effort to swim a few strokes away from the boat. When she turned back, she was relieved to see it was still in position and Martin was standing exactly where she had left him.

He had folded his arms across his chest now, his expression unreadable from this distance.

‘Bit different to the pool, isn’t it?’ he shouted.

He wasn’t wrong there.

‘Just a bit,’ she called back.

The water was less cold now the initial shock had passed and her body had adjusted quickly to the temperature. Forcing herself to relax, she kicked out a little further, slicing through the water with steady strokes. The sea was saltier than she was used to, the taste sharp on her lips, but after a few moments, she found her stride.

She stopped and floated on her back, blinking up at the sky. The November sun warmed her face, the water lifting and lowering her in a way that was strangely soothing now she had stopped fighting it. For the first time in days, some of the tension in her chest loosened.

Maybe Martin had been right after all. Not the way he had gone on at her, but about the swimming being good for her.

She glanced back at the boat. He was no longer watching her, but she could see the back of his head as he crouched down, fiddling with something near the stern.

Turning away again, she swam a little further, confident that the boat remained close enough to feel safe. Each time she glanced back, she could see it; the white hull bobbing on the dark surface. A fixed point that was solid and reassuring.

Her breathing evened out.

This was okay, she realised. Actually, it was more than okay. It was actually exhilarating swimming in the sea so far from land. The clean sting of salt against skin, the rise and fall motion of the water, and just the quiet vastness of endless blue in every direction. It sounded silly, but it was a reminder of just how small she was compared to the rest of the world, and it helped to put things in perspective.

She kicked out another few metres, then rolled onto her front and began an easy breaststroke. Not going too far. Just enough to help fuel her growing confidence.

Finally, she paused, drawing in a deep breath, then turned back towards the boat.

Her heart almost stopped dead.

It had moved.

Only a little. Perhaps a few metres. But the distance was enough that a sharp pulse of alarm skittered through her.

Poppy blinked hard, treading water.

Was she mistaken? Had she swum further away than she’d thought?

The swell lifted her, then lowered her again, and this time the distance seemed greater.

‘Martin?’

At first, she couldn’t see him.

‘Martin!’ she called again. Louder this time.

Then he appeared, standing on the edge of the deck, peering out at her. He looked much smaller from this distance.

‘You all right?’ he yelled back.

‘The boat’s drifting.’

‘It’s just a bit of movement. That’s normal.’

Normal? The word did nothing to calm her.

‘Can you bring it closer?’

He didn’t answer her straight away. Instead, he stared at her across the water, one hand resting on the railing as the boat bobbed up and down.