Page 75 of Midnight in Paris
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Your jumper. I know you don’t have anything to replace it with, it’s just… it’ll make you colder, I think.’
He nodded and slipped the jumper over his head, revealing a little glimpse of belly button that made him somehow seem boyish. His T-shirt clung to his chest underneath and she could see the pink of his flesh through the material. She hoped he wouldn’t freeze to death before they got back.
‘What now?’
‘Well, we’ll have to row back,’ he said with a grimace.
‘You think I’m getting back in that thing?’
‘It’s that or walk back to the club – no one’s letting you in a taxi in that state.’
She looked down at herself. It was true. Nobody was going to let her soak their upholstery. ‘Bugger,’ she said. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so funny.
‘It’ll be fine.’ Will kneeled on the bank and reached into the boat with his oar, pulling the vessel towards them.
‘I don’t even have an oar!’
‘It’s just there,’ he said, pointing to where her oar had floated and was caught on the branches of an overhanging shrub.
She felt a sudden exhaustion. It was half past five, she was soaked through. The morning, although it looked promising, was still not warm enough to counter the deep ache of cold that had reached her bones. And now she had to row. She stood up with a guttural sigh.
‘Ah, come on. We’ll make a rower out of you yet,’ Will said, grinning.
But she couldn’t return his good humour. ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ she said, stepping cautiously into the boat as he held it as still as he could.
After a few attempts, she was able to lift her oar back onto the boat as Will held it steady. Then, careful not to look around, he told her again to get into the rhythm, to start rowing. She did – doggedly, determined to get to the club as soon as possible and put all this behind her.
But as she rowed, and as her body began to warm despite its sodden covering, she fell into the rhythm again, and began to feel that sense of peace she’d experienced shortly before they’d capsized.
By the time they reached the clubhouse and Will had carefully secured the boat, she was feeling, if not positive, then certainly not as negative as she had. And that was really saying something.
Standing on the bank now, Will reached out his hand to help her from the boat and she took it gratefully, feeling strange when she stood again on solid ground, her body still expecting it to lurch and buck beneath her. She looked at Will who was studying her face, his brow furrowed.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Not quite sure what to say. I mean, I guess it wasn’t the pleasant experience I was hoping for.’
‘No. Not really.’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I really thought you’d enjoy it. And you know, I think you would have if I hadn’t been stupid enough to?—’
She looked at him. ‘No, I did. I did enjoy it.’
‘You did?’ He looked incredulous.
‘Yeah. I mean, notallof it,’ she said, wringing some water out of her hair pointedly.
‘Well, no.’
‘But it was good. I get what you mean. It’s hard work, but sort of soothing at the same time.’
He nodded. ‘That’s how I’ve always found it. I kind of feel different on the water – I mean, I know I’m still in Cambridge and everyone is still around, and all the things that exist in the world are still, well, there. But you kind of feel separate too, don’t you? Like you’ve escaped it all for a bit.’
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘I get that.’
‘So you think you might be a convert?’
