The Drowning of Arthur Braxton. Caroline Smailes

I trust that this needs to be done, but still Martin Savage is staring and I hate that he’s staring.

      So I do what Madame Pythia asks me to do. I do it because I want this job, I need this job and, if I’m honest, I want the pain and sadness to go away. I start undoing the buttons of my little flowery dress. I slip out of my DMs ’cause they’re never done up tight, I let my dress fall to the floor. I fumble trying to undo my bra at the back. It used to be Mum’s but it don’t fit her no more. I’m still rubbish with the catch. I take my bra off, let it fall to the floor and I cross my arms over my titties so that Martin Savage and Silver can’t see my nipples. I feel stupid.

      ‘Now your panties,’ Martin Savage says.

      I do as I’m told. I feel their eyes on me and my little-girl nipples. I wish I had big brown nipples like Mum.

      ‘Get in the water,’ Madame Pythia says. I look at Silver and he nods his head.

      I walk to the edge of the pool, not sure whether to put my hands over my titties or my fanny, and grab the metal handrail. I take the wooden steps slowly, worrying that I’m going to slip and drown and Mum’ll always be wondering why I’ve died swimming with my titties out.

      One, two and my feet are in the water. It’s icy. It nips at my breathing. Three, four and the water’s to my waist. I hate cold water; I’m shaking already and can’t stop myself from wondering why on earth I even thought about getting a job with these nutters.

      ‘Swim,’ Madame Pythia says.

      ‘Swim?’ I ask. She nods.

      I let go of the metal handrail and I flop forward into the cold water. I hold my breath and I flap my arms about. It’s ages since I’ve been swimming.

      ‘Swim,’ Madame Pythia says again. I don’t look at her or Silver or Martin Savage. I look down through the water; the white tiles are too far away for my toes to touch. I look to the shallow end, I see the wooden stairs, and I reckon that I’ll swim to there and then out.

      I swim badly. Mum never could afford the lessons and the ones I had with the school were pretty basic and more about avoiding being drowned by Sheldon Frances.

      ‘I’ll do it,’ Martin Savage says. I think that’s what he says. I look up with water splashing on my face, dripping from my fringe, and I see that he’s undoing his jeans. I feel sick. I’m going to throw up into the water and I know that’ll get me in proper trouble off Madame Pythia. I don’t want him near me, I don’t want him with his willy near me. I start to panic. I flap my arms up and down through the water, trying to make me go faster, trying and trying. But the more I flap my arms, the more it feels like I’m being pulled underwater. It’s like the water’s trying to stop me escaping and it feels like there’s fingers grabbing my ankles and pulling me down. The water’s filling my mouth and my ears and covering my head and I want to scream. I think I’m dying, I’m definitely sinking.

      And that’s when I hear Madame Pythia.

      ‘Stay calm, Laurel, let the water help you,’ she says.

      And that’s when I feel his arms around my waist. I try to kick him but my legs aren’t working like I need them to work and them fingers are still squeezing my ankles. He pulls me to the side, the fingers let go of my ankles, and then he puts his hands on my naked bum cheeks and pushes me up. Silver’s standing on the edge of the pool. He drags me out from the water and onto the mosaic tiles.

      Madame Pythia is next to me. ‘You need to trust,’ she says.

      I nod. I know she’s right. I know that it’s important that I prove to Madame Pythia that I can do my job, that I trust in both her and in the water. I roll so that I’m sitting up, I’m not at all graceful, then I shuffle to the edge of the pool and lower myself into the water again.

      I hold onto the side. I turn, I look at Martin Savage. He’s still in the water. He’s still naked. He smiles.

      ‘Lie back and float,’ Madame Pythia says. I nod, then I lie back and push my feet off the wall of the swimming pool. I feel Martin’s hands under my back, I try not to think about his touching me, instead I trust, instead I ignore his fingers stroking and prodding. I float, and I float some more.

      And that’s when something changes. I swear that I feel the air changing, I feel the pain and the upset fading and fading some more. I relax, I mean I proper relax, I let the water guide me and I smile a proper smile.

      And at that very moment, I feel like nothing bad exists in the world and I feel the happiest I’ve ever felt.

       Clever as Well as Pretty:

      And when Martin comes to my desk later, he hands me an iced bun and a can of Diet Coke.

      ‘Sorry, pet,’ he says. ‘It was mad in there, hope we didn’t scare you. Me and Silver were trying to help.’ And he smiles and I think he means it, so I smile back.

      ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the gifts from him. The last thing I need is awkward stuff at my place of work. I like that he’s being kind.

      ‘It’s this place,’ he says, holding his arms out wide, ‘it brings out the weird in all of us.’ Then he laughs.

      I laugh too.

      ‘I feel so much better,’ I say.

      ‘It’s the water, pet,’ Martin says and then he sits down on the edge of my desk. ‘Is there anything you’ve seen so far that’s not made sense?’ he asks. His voice is all gentle and caring and nice.

      I think for a minute or two. ‘I don’t understand how you learned how to do everything,’ I say. ‘I mean, it’s like magic.’ I sound silly. Martin laughs.

      ‘I was born this way, pet. I was picked on for being different, I never fit in no place …’ His voice trails off. ‘Bit like you,’ he says. He leans over and strokes my shoulder. I nod but I don’t really understand what he’s saying.

      ‘You got any friends?’ he asks.

      I shake my head. ‘No time, with school and the kids.’

      ‘Well, let’s us be friends,’ he says and he smiles. He moves a little bit closer, his leg touches mine. ‘So what you up to?’ he asks, pointing at the book on my desk.

      ‘Just reading,’ I say.

      ‘You like books?’ he asks and I nod. He leans across me, his chest in my face. I breathe in. He picks up my book and looks at the title. ‘Clever as well as pretty,’ he says.

      I feel myself blushing. I try to stop the red but I can’t.

      ‘So, we’re friends?’ he asks, putting down my book. I don’t know what to say, I nod. ‘Good,’ he says, ‘because I’d hate you not to like me.’ And then he stands up, goes outside and has a ciggie. I watch him, he’s all smiles and he waves at me as he collects his next appointment and takes her to the Males 2nd Class pool.

      And that’s when I get to figuring that I’ve been silly and really Martin’s nice and mainly he just has to put on an act for all the women who come here just to see him. He’s popular, and I should feel happy that he wants to be my friend.

       Three-Day Illness:

      No one knows how old Madame Pythia is. Her forehead’s covered in lines. Mum says it’s from all the scowling she does, but I think that’s just Mum being bitter. She doesn’t really like women much, especially the ones with money.

      It’s not long before I start to understand how all the water-healing works and why Madame Pythia’s the way that she is. It’s all ’cause