‘Okay,’ I sighed, with a roll of my eyes. ‘I have to go and supervise,’ I said to Joy. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt – if I rolled up my jeans and kept the children in the shallow end, I could paddle with them.
‘Oh, darling, don’t you think it’s a little late for them to swim?’ Joy said pointedly. This was a rhetorical question as if I was expected to agree with her and simply announce my change of mind to the children. It was a long time since Joy had had children, and she sometimes seemed to forget that a broken promise could mean the start of World War Three. As indomitable as Joy could be in the face of disobedience, three frustrated kids on the verge of tears was far more daunting to me.
I could see this was an inconvenience for Joy who was no doubt ready for her gin and tonic. ‘It’s never too early for a drink, the sun is always over the yardarm somewhere in the world,’ was her holiday mantra most afternoons. And as hard as she tried to hide her feelings now, she couldn’t. Her lips locked together like she’d sucked a tart lemon. She’d had in her mind the perfect image of her grandchildren, like a photograph, sun shining through their blonde hair like halos. She expected them to be sweet and biddable, have supper, go to bed and fit into her plans without a quibble. But, sadly for her, the kids didn’t get the memo.
As lovely as she was, there were times when none of us quite came up to Joy’s expectations, even her precious grandchildren, and this wasn’t how she’d planned our arrival. She held her hands together tightly over her stomach like if she didn’t anchor them down she might be forced to swim too. Poor Joy looked in pain. She loved our girlie get-togethers on holiday, as did I, but with the men busy unloading the car, we were on children duty until Dan appeared or the kids were safely inside. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be her gin-drinking companion yet. On the other side of the pool, Alfie was already stripping off.
‘No, Alfie, not at that end,’ I said, ‘it’s deep. Come over here.’ I headed off in his direction, looking back at Joy apologetically, while she smiled but raised her eyebrows in vague disapproval. ‘Alfie wait… stop!’ I shouted, as he continued to take off his clothes, throwing them in the air like he was bloody Magic Mike. ‘Alfie, if you don’t come to the shallow end NOW, you will have to come inside,’ I said, in an attempt to show him who was boss.
‘NO!’ he shouted, following up with a slight change of tack. ‘Muuum…’ He began an elongated whine.
‘You promised we could swim,’ said Violet, finishing off her sibling’s sentence from the other side of the garden.
‘You haven’t even looked around yet. Wouldn’t you like to see inside first?’ Joy called to Violet, who wasn’t buying the blatant attempt at distraction and didn’t answer. ‘Mum and I are going inside,’ Joy then threatened, presumably hoping they’d abandon the pool in favour of viewing the interior decorations – she had no clue.
I looked from her to Alfie, now standing precariously on the edge of the pool, totally naked, while Violet stood in the shallow end waiting for me. Maybe part of me would have liked to follow Joy in and see inside, to wander into the beautiful villa, drinking an ice-cold G and T with a bright wedge of lemon while she gave me the tour. But, damn it, my four-year-old was standing precariously close to 6 feet of water.
‘It’s a little late, Clare, are you really allowing them to swim now?’ she asked through perfectly painted lips.
‘I promised,’ I offered apologetically, but before she could respond, there was a loud smack followed by a terrifying silence.
CHAPTER THREE
A terrifying deathly silence as Alfie disappeared was followed by the equally terrifying rush of loud, intermittent screaming, as he desperately tried to get his breath in 6 feet of water. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. I was focussed only on one thing and barely saw or heard anything else. I was vaguely aware of Joy open-mouthed watching him, as I instinctively dumped Freddie in her arms. I powered across the ground to the side of the pool to reach my drowning four-year-old, jumping in fully clothed and gathering every ounce of strength I had I grabbed my little boy, lifted him from the depths and dragged him up to the surface. I held his sobbing face above the water as he tried to breathe and cry and call ‘Mummy!’ all at the same time, and I thought I might have a heart attack, but that didn’t matter, I just had to get him to safety.
Eventually, with a little help from Joy, we both climbed out. She was still holding Freddie and had already instructed Violet to run inside and get towels.