Read Online Swim Until You Can't See Land by Catriona Child - Free Book Online Page A

instead.’ He picks up a Mars Bar and a packet of Quavers.
    Calum taps his foot as he serves the guy. He steps back to let the till drawer open and his t-shirt falls back into place. I want to lift it up again, place my hand against the fuzzy warmth there.
    What’s wrong with me? I stand, brush myself down. I’m light-headed, must be the blood loss.
    Calum’s a schoolboy. Thinking about him like that is just wrong. I’m no Mrs Robinson.
    The guy leaves the shop and Calum holds up the Hob Nobs.
    I take the packet, read the date.
    (like me, best-before)
    ‘It’s only by a couple of weeks.’
    Calum opens them, takes a bite of one.
    ‘Taste alright,’ he says, his mouth full.
    There you go, nothing like a view of chewed-up biscuit to dampen your desires.
    ‘You okay? You still look a bit pale,’ he says.
    ‘Yeah, give me a biscuit, that’ll help.’
    ‘Be my guest,’ he holds out the packet.
    ‘A bit soft, but they’re fine aren’t they?’ The syrupy oats break apart, stick to my gums and the roof of my mouth.
    ‘I’ll check the others,’ Calum says.
    He hoists his jeans up as he walks to the opposite side of the shop.
    Another reality check. How could I fancy someone with such stupid trousers?
    Something catches my eye out on the street. Three girls looking in. They push open the door, banging into each other and laughing as they enter the shop.
    They hide behind the greetings cards, pretend to be interested in them, but they’re fooling nobody. They’re here to perve on Calum.
    ‘Blonde-Pigtails’ picks up a card and points at it, ‘Hot-Pants-and-Tights’ grabs it off her and puts it back while ‘Pierced-Nose’ laughs.
    I lean forward on my elbows. The glass pops as I put weight on it. The girls turn at the noise, look away, still laughing.
    What’s so funny?
    They don’t even register my existence.
    (don’t you recognise me?)
    Too old, uninteresting. The way the school kids treat Shirley when they come in at break times.
    Am I just some old wifie to them?
    I’m not that much older.
    I look down at myself. Ripped jeans, charity shop top, scabby Converse. The girls are glammed to the max, sparkling, even their hair glimmers. My hair hangs like straw, too much chlorine in it to ever shine like that. They wear lip gloss and creamy eye shadow. I wear waterproof mascara and smear Vaseline on my lips when they get too dry.
    Way to make you feel like a zero.
    They strut around the shop, pick things up, pretend to look at them, laugh, put things down again, giggle, giggle, giggle.
    I get a weird satisfaction from Calum’s lack of interest. Oblivious as they try to get his attention.
    Engrossed in his out of date biscuits.
    They’re persistent, I have to give them that much. From their little play I work out that ‘Hot-Pants-and-Tights’ has the hots for Calum while ‘Blonde-Pigtails’ and ‘Pierced-Nose’ seem to be here for moral support and guidance.
    Although I’m sure neither would say no given the chance.
    (would I?)
    The three of them edge closer, closer. Lionesses closing in on an un-suspecting wildebeest.
    I get that rush of competitiveness, that bloody-minded streak that used to work so well in the pool.
    ‘Can I help?’ I ask.
    They turn as one.
    ‘No, just looking,’ ‘Blonde-Pigtails’ replies.
    My trick backfires. Calum turns, spots the girls, nods hello. They wave and smile. When he turns back to his biscuits, ‘Hot-Pants-and-Tights’ grabs ‘Pierced-Nose’ and ‘Blonde-Pigtails’ and they all hug each other.
    Laughing. Laughing. Laughing. Laughing.
    Jesus, am I so removed from my teenage years? There’s not a hint of recognition, of empathy.
    ‘Hot-Pants and-Tights’ looks a bit sick now as the other two push her towards Calum. She pretends to struggle but lets them propel her forward.
    Why don’t I feel sorry for her?
    Poor girl, trying to build up the courage to speak to the cute boy she likes. Why are they igniting my inner bitch?
    You’re fiery, Hannah –