For some reason, after entertaining a man in my house, I decided to have a clear-out of my kitchen cupboards. Joey came down later, looking for supper, and enthusiastically joined in dumping anything that Cee-Cee called ‘low-grade fuel’, which basically meant all processed, sugary, trans-fatty, scrumptious food. We set aside anything non-perishable for the local food bank and dumped the rest.
‘What’s the deal with the pool at Greasby?’ Joey asked, as he chucked a multi-pack of midget gems into the food-bank bag. ‘You went all twitchy when Nathan mentioned it.’
‘Coach Gallagher.’
‘He said to call him Nathan! And you knew the date it opens again. Why would you know that?’
‘He invitedmeto call him Nathan, not you. And I know the date because of this.’ I tossed a dried-up packet of pepperoni in the bin and fetched the invitation out of my desk.
Joey took it from me, reading with interest.
‘They’ve invited you to the grand reopening of the leisure centre? That’s pretty cool!’
I waited for him to read a bit further.
‘WHAT!? The AMELIA PIPER SWIMMING CENTRE!’ He stared at the card, mouth hanging open. ‘They want you to give a speech and present the prize for a sporting event to be confirmed at a later date! Why didn’t you tell me? This is unbelievable!’
‘Weeellll…’
‘No. Mum. You have to go. You are going, aren’t you? Is this why you’ve started the Programme?’ He grabbed onto both my shoulders. ‘Mum, you can’t not go! This is like, so cool. Promise you’ll go! You have to promise.’
‘I’ve not said I won’t do it.’
‘Muu-uu-uum! You won a gold medal!’ He stepped back, waving his arms about. ‘You deserve this. It could be, like, your big comeback after disappearing for all these years. And you’ll do a killer speech and I bet the Gladiators will be there and everyone will know you’re not a weirdo recluse woman, you’re an awesome gold medallist. You won’t have to hide any more.’ Tucking one hand under each of my armpits, he lifted me up onto my tiptoes until our faces nearly touched. ‘You have to go. They’re naming a pool after you. That’s an amazing honour,’ he said in a voice like he was the adult, and I a truculent child.
‘I know. I’m thinking about it, honestly,’ I mumbled, as he dropped me back down.
‘And imagine how embarrassing it’ll be if you don’t show up. You’ll never be able to reveal your true identity then.’
‘I’m not hiding my true identity, I just don’t want to advertise it. And I don’t want you judged on who your mum is.’
‘Yeah. I get that, I don’t want any favourable treatment because of you, either.’ He absent-mindedly opened one of the ‘reject’ crisp packets and shovelled a handful in his mouth.
Oh, Joey. I wasn’t worried about the swimming world treating himbetterif they knew who his mother was…
But he had a point, that things might be worse for him – and me – in the long run if I didn’t show. It was a mystery why they’d decided to name a pool after me. Granted, I went to school in the village next to Greasby, which makes me the most successful sportswoman in the local area. But, still. Community buildings don’t get named after someone who turned out to be a national scandal. At least, they shouldn’t.
I’d had hideous nightmares about me shuffling in, all my muscle turned to blubber. My hair self-cut, wearing an online outfit that, like most things you can’t try before you buy, neither fit nor flattered. The courageous woman hiding deep down inside me knew that size, appearance, split ends, don’t make a person, or determine their worth or success. But I was ashamed, not of my looks (okay, notonlyof my looks), but of the truth they represented: that the swimmer who never gave up had given up. On herself, on life, on having any purpose. I hadn’t just let myself go physically, but emotionally, spiritually. I had literally let myself disappear into nothingness.
And besides: crowds, noise, a microphone in my face, journalists. And the likelihood that to ceremoniously open a swimming pool in my name, I’d probably be expected to go inside it. What if I panicked?SurelyI would panic?
The very thought of it made my bones clack together.
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’tnotdo it.
But, boy, I had some work to do in the meantime.
I put the invitation back in the drawer and ate a carrot.
14
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Twenty-Eight
The following day, there was another Sean message to mess up my head and boil my blood. I saved the document I’d been working on and hit Google.
