Anna closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and their lips pressed firmly yet awkwardly together. Her mind raced away to the deserted, windswept beach where she learned to swim, and eventually to love, the stormy swells.

“Cradle her neck and keep breathing."

The instructor's shrill tone brought Anna back to the present. A dozen others silently observed her technique in the musty brick basement. A million miles away from that beach with its racing clouds, jostling waves, and shifting sands. Instead of the smell of the ocean, she was looking into the lifeless, plastic eyes of Rescue Annie, the CPR doll.

"Well done, everyone. Finish up, disinfect and return your mannequins, and we'll continue with more theory."

Poor Annie. Anna lifted the resuscitation doll, tired muscles gently protesting after the weekend's swim meet. Rescue Annie stared blankly at her as she pushed shut the stiff closet door. She sighed. It was seven o’clock already, daylight was fading under a sullen blanket of grey, and there was still an hour until her shift at the pool started.

Anna grabbed her shoulder bag, and the heavy exterior door eventually strained open as she leant into it. Her shoulders complained slightly against the force. The door swung closed behind her, depositing her abruptly onto Seymour Street and into half-darkness. Cold air steamed as she exhaled loudly, and she chided herself for forgetting her scarf again. Why was it still so cold in May, she wondered

Dodging the tribes of commuters and shoppers pacing furiously towards the Tube, she settled into a purposeful, rhythmic stride to keep warm. Despite the dark and cold, she loved walking through central London. Her frequent wrong turns down the maze of lanes and alleys often led to a surprise discovery of a historic building or well-tended park.

It seemed worlds away from her upbringing in New Zealand. There, her family would escape the suburbs at weekends and holidays and head to a beach off the beaten track. At day's end, the tide would swiftly wipe the sand clean of footprints and any memory of their visit. She grew up accustomed to hearing the ocean in her ears, having salt in her hair, and finding sand in her sheets for days after they returned home, much to her parents’ despair.

The scent of fresh, roasted chestnuts from a Cockney street vendor roused her from the childhood memories.

“Hot nuts! Come and get yer hot nuts,” he shouted to everyone and no one. She flicked him two gold coins.

The cup swiftly drew warmth back into her frigid fingertips. Anna smiled as she tipped back her head and slowly licked every sugary crumb from the upside-down container. A passing shopper bumped into her, weighed down by an array of brand name bags, knocking the cup into the gutter. Time to get off Oxford Street, she thought, adding the fallen cup to an overflowing bin and heading down an unnamed alleyway towards the Marshall St pool.

"Are you certified?" Erik enquired from up high in the lifeguard's chair, trying to catch Anna's gaze.

"Yip. You’re looking at a freshly re-qualified first aider, and the doctor says I’m fit and healthy." Anna smiled, pulling her lifeguard polo over her t-shirt.

"Well, let me congratulate you properly," he offered, jumping deftly from the chair and springing a bear hug on Anna.

She chuckled to herself, inhaling the familiar scent on his neck as he enveloped her body. It was a curse of swimming, and she wondered how often non-swimmers noticed her own eau de chlorine from daily training. Conscious of colleagues and swimmers around them, she reluctantly wriggled out of his firm embrace.

"A great start to the week, especially after your results at county champs. Celebratory drink tonight?" he asked keenly.

"Well done, you, too. Second in your age group, and with hardly any training," she jibed. "Um, let me take a rain check on the drinks. I have an early start tomorrow."

"We had fun last time, ja?" he said playfully. "Plus, you know what they say about all work and no play."

"I do," she interrupted, "and if I'm going to swim the Channel sometime in the future, that's what I'll need to do. But we'll have drinks next time. Promise."

Hopefully, he would forget or be distracted by one of the other female lifeguards. As much as she enjoyed Erik's company, and there was no doubt about his classic Swedish good looks, Anna had started to place him in the friend zone. No one seemed to push her buttons at present. But that wasn't why she was here in London. Romance would be a distraction now. She watched him leave and settled into her shift.

Pacing beside the pool, Anna watched the few middle-aged women in the late session crawl back and forth and thought back to the last time she was happy, really happy, in a relationship. It wasn’t even a proper relationship, more a case of summer fun over the Christmas holidays after finishing exams. She wasn’t prepared for how quickly things developed and didn’t expect her feelings to be reciprocated. She didn’t really know what to do, just that she felt more content then than she had ever felt before or since.

The adults had given them so much freedom that year. She didn’t know why at the time. So, they had made the most of it. She could almost still feel the hot sun on her face as they lay on the beach so many seasons ago, limbs intertwined and talking about everything and nothing. Then it was over so quickly.

It was probably just a phase, she suspected, or rather hoped. Since then, she had thrown herself into her studies and sport, determined to fit into ‘normal’ life. The plan had worked well, and her all-consuming interest in swimming led to respectable results. It was a convenient excuse to explain why she didn’t really date. On the face of it, there was simply never time.

The whistle pierced her daydream, followed by a mechanical voice over the tannoy.

“Swimmers, five minutes until closing.”

Working the late shift enabled her to squeeze in a cheeky swim once the pool was closed to the public. She returned the kickboards and pull buoys scattered around the perimeter to their rightful place and smiled as order was restored. The main lights dimmed after the last swimmer left, and she hastily discarded her polo shirt and shorts onto the lifeguard chair, her swimming costume already on underneath. Now it felt less like a pool and more like a sanctuary.

The tepid water always seemed to mercilessly grab at her when she dove in. Anna liked to stay underwater for her first length, gracefully gliding along the bottom of the pool as the elegant marble curved down to the deep end. Gathering her breath, she paused and looked around. After the recent restoration, this art deco gem and its stone surrounding was quite possibly the most beautiful pool in London, and on nights like this, it was all hers.

~ ~ ~

The email the next day was unexpected and brief: Dear Anna, it's been a long time, but I hear that you've moved to London. I don’t know if you remember, but I live in Dover now. Hollie is away until the end of term. Do come and visit. Love, Rosie.

A flood of happy memories swept through Anna's head. A Christmas holiday at the beach, running through the surf with Hollie, looking for glow worms in the bush after dark, camping in a pup tent behind the beach house together. The two of them were almost joined at the hip, and Anna sighed at how close they became and how content they were. Had she ever felt that way since? Then Hollie's father was admitted to a hospice. After his passing, Hollie and Rosie returned to the UK, and, over time, they lost contact.

Reflecting as an adult, she felt a new sense of melancholy and even guilt. As a teenager, she hadn’t thought how traumatic it must have been for Rosie, suddenly a widow raising a teenage daughter, to resettle on the other side of the world near her parents. The timing for visiting Rosie now worked well. It would kill two birds with one stone via an enjoyable side trip to the hallowed pebbles of Dover Beach: a glimpse of Channel swimmers at practice, stretching their gritty mettle.

Anna replied that she would visit this weekend, and it was a relief that Hollie wouldn't be there. On occasions during the summer holidays, they had perhaps spent too much time together. Anna flushed with embarrassment at the memories. She had largely forgotten about it, and hopefully, Hollie had, too.

The slow train to Dover on Sunday stopped at every station. It saved a few pounds over the express service, but time dragged. She became increasingly nervous. Distracting herself, she traced over the raindrops on the window with her fingers. The carriages dawdled through postcard-perfect rural landscapes. Maybe an inspiration for Keates, she pondered. After a long couple of hours, the train finally arrived at Dover Priory. The station proved both an anti-climax and an antidote to Anna’s anxiety. Other passengers dissipated quickly, leaving her alone in the stark terminal. Searching through her jumbled bag, she found the hand-drawn map, scrawled on the back of an old envelope before leaving the house, with Rosie’s address and the location of the beach. Pulling up the hood of her rain jacket, she leant into the wind and set off on foot.

Rosie's maisonette was modest to say the least. She was clearly house proud, but Anna could not get used to the small proportions that the English accepted as normal. A narrow flight of stairs led up to a small kitchen and living space, the original fireplace bringing character to the compact proportions. The grumpy cat disapproved of the newcomer to its quarters and hurriedly slunk behind a slightly ajar door into the only bedroom. Anna accepted a strong cup of tea and wrapped her hands around the warm mug. Although it was spring, Jack Frost was still a regular visitor.

"Don’t mind Minty. She takes her time with strangers. Now, I haven't any biscuits, I'm afraid. You must be hungry, though?" she enquired in a motherly tone.

"I'm fine, thanks. But how are you? It's been a long time," Anna asked. Not great at initiating small talk, she contentedly listened as Rosie put on a brave face about the past several years. As Rosie started a lively monologue, it was clear that she lived vicariously through her daughter and had worked hard as a widow to provide for both. As Rosie talked, Anna realised it was the first time the pair had shared a proper conversation. Rosie enjoyed having new ears listen to her ramble and roll from one topic to another.

Working in Dover Castle for several years, she keenly recited nine centuries of compelling local history. Then she followed up with her knowledge from volunteering as a Justice of the Peace of recent local matches and hatches, with all the enthusiasm of an amateur genealogist. Anna hoped her eager nodding distracted from her eyes glazing over at some of the finer details. Firm footsteps approached on the staircase, and a moment later, a warm body pressed against her back and arms wrapped around her waist.

“Hello, stranger!” announced Hollie, air-kissing Anna’s cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind, Anna. When Hollie found out you were visiting, she flew back slightly earlier for the long weekend. Oh, I have an idea. Let’s take a selfpic.” Rosie’s elation at the spontaneous reunion spilled into a jumble of words as she excitedly captured the moment.

“It’s a selfie, not a selfpic, Mum.” Hollie laughed, squeezing close to Anna so they were all in the frame. “Right, since there are three of us for lunch, I’ll stroll to the shops and give you girls some time. I’m sure you have plenty to talk about,” continued Rosie. She gathered her purse and headed down the wooden stairs, much more quietly than Hollie’s arrival.

Anna’s stomach flipped as they were left alone. “It’s good to see you.” Hollie smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

Fresh raindrops softened her burnished hair, making it sparkle under the single, naked light bulb in the living room. Anna felt her throat knot. Hollie’s welcome embrace had been warm and soft, with a faint hint of perfume. Anna could still feel her touch linger on her body.

“It’s been a long time,” she replied, conscious of how long it took to find words to respond. “So, you’re studying overseas?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Well, in Edinburgh. It’s my final year after a few stops and starts. Mum wanted me to study locally, but it was intense living here with her. I graduate in a few months. Then I’ll finally be a fully qualified IT geek.”

Anna fidgeted with her nearly empty cup, wanting to ask more but hesitant to know the answers to some of the questions that raced around her brain.

“Let me top up your tea,” Hollie offered. The sofa was small and cheap. The cushions sagged under the weight of two strong, young women.

“Sorry. It’s a sofa bed. I sleep on it when I’m staying with Mum.” Hollie apologised as it rolled them slightly together. “She moved here when I went to university. The owners wanted a quick sale. My grandparents helped her with the deposit. I know she feels bad that it’s so small. She was so houseproud in New Zealand. If I had stayed in Dover, she’d never have gotten out of the rent trap. At least this will all be hers one day. Then Minty adopted her, so now she has company.”

The mood became subdued. It was clear that Hollie cared about her Mum and felt the weight of being an only child with a grieving parent. The grandmother clock ticked loudly beside them, subtly reminding Anna of the slowly squandering opportunity.

“So, how are you? What brings you to Blighty?” she asked.

Anna hastily swilled the tea and stared into the depths of the cup. Why was her heart rate elevated? Maybe she was coming down with something? She paused and collected her thoughts. Many times, she had explained how she planned to work in London and travel around Europe over the next year and had recently secured work as a pool lifeguard. Ultimately, she hoped to swim the English Channel in the future. This season she would focus on acclimating and building up her endurance.

But now her voice cracked, and as much tea as she drank, her mouth remained dry. Their eyes met. She stammered a little. Suddenly she realised there were no more words; she was just staring. Staring into Hollie’s seagreen eyes. Cold tea spilled from her cup onto her jeans, breaking her focus.

“Minty!” shouted Hollie, chasing the meowing feline off Anna’s lap. Retreating under a chair, a defeated tail swished back and forth.

“Sorry. She drinks out of Mum’s cup when she’s allowed.” Hollie grabbed a colourful tea towel and patted down Anna’s damp corduroy trousers.

“It’s fine, really,” re-assured Anna, as their hands awkwardly brushed together on her knee.

“Why don’t you take them off?” said Hollie. “I mean, I have a spare pair, and yours will dry more quickly if we hang them in front of the fireplace.” She blushed, both realising her words had been misinterpreted.

“Why don’t we—” Anna’s suggestion was cut short by footsteps on the stairs. She quickly sighed with relief, unsure how her sentence would have ended.

“So, where were we up to? Have you got a boyfriend yet?” Rosie’s questions started halfway up the stairwell while still weighed down with grocery bags. Anna paused, unsure if the question was directed at her.

“Yes, you,” prompted Hollie. Anna’s mind whirred while she contemplated how to respond.

“Uh, yes,” Anna hesitated, not even convincing herself. “We work together.” Was her response believable?

“Is that all?” challenged Rosie. “I’m sure if he’s good enough for you, there’s plenty to talk about.” Now she remembered how inquisitive Rosie could be. Nothing got past her.

“It’s kind of new. He’s Swedish. He’s a swimmer. It’s not really that serious. His name is Erik.” Anna became aware she was staring down at her scuffed trainers. When she looked up, Rosie was distracted and folding away the re-usable grocery bags, but Hollie looked quizzically at her. Anna pursed her lips and frowned intently. Was this a small room, or was she feeling claustrophobic?

Hollie started noisily chopping vegetables. The olive oil spat loudly in the frying pan as she tossed the rinsed and diced items into it. She rotated the gas knob to full heat, her back now facing Anna as she deliberately detached from the topic.

“You know, that’s how it started with Hollie’s father and me. Years ago, of course,” Rosie reminisced. “Sometimes you meet that person who turns your black and white world to colour. When you do, give it a chance. At least see where it takes you. When it feels right, you’ll know. There’s no substitute. I can still see it in young love’s eyes when I’m officiating these days.

“Tell me more about Erik. You know I live vicariously through others these days. Hollie, do turn down that flame, sweetie. There’s a lot of heat coming from your direction suddenly. Maybe pour some cold water on it so it doesn’t boil over.