‘What is there to say? It just got too much. I’ve been out for seven hours.’
We walked a few more steps. ‘Joey filled in a parental consent form to join the club.’
‘And?’ I frowned, my wrung-out brain trying hard to follow this new conversation.
‘Amy Piper.’
We had nearly reached my house. I stopped anyway, my hand dropping from his. ‘How long have you known?’
He looked down, kicked at a wonky slab in the pavement. ‘I told you I trained with the Loughborough Uni team.’
‘I need to get inside.’ Hurrying past Nathan, I virtually ran down my front path, scrabbling at the lock with my key until he gently took it off me, opening up and letting me practically ram him out the way to get to my sofa before my knees gave out. ‘Carry on.’ I waved a hand at him, impatiently. My anxiety was out of its cage and on the rampage.
Nathan took a seat on the chair opposite me. ‘I watched you compete a couple of times. We even trained together once. I ate lunch at your table in the café. Asked stupid questions about your diet because I couldn’t think of how else to start a conversation.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Of course you don’t. I was nobody, you were Amelia Piper. I’d never seen anyone so focused and strong and brilliant. You were captivating. I was in awe.’ He pulled a wry smile, running his fingers through his hair. ‘You were my first major crush.’
I clutched my stomach, praying there was nothing left to throw up. ‘So how did you recognise me? I bear absolutely no resemblance to that person.’
Nathan’s voice was gentle. ‘You’re far more like her than you think. In all the best ways.’
‘So, you’ve known all along?’
‘I wondered, when I saw the name on Joey’s form. When I saw him swim. But then, you never came to training, or to the meets. I guessed you might be trying to avoid stealing his limelight, wanting him to be judged on his own merit. And, of course, your career hadn’t ended well. But to never turn up, when swimming had been everything to you? I decided it was a coincidence, similar name, or maybe you were distant cousins or something, that’s it. And then, when I saw you in the street, as soon as you opened your eyes… I was seventeen again.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I got why you wanted to stay anonymous. It wasn’t my secret to tell.’
‘All that fuss about the triathlon, the whole publicity thing…’
‘I remember what it was like for you. How everyone who came near you had an agenda. Resenting your talent, or worshipping you for it. I didn’t want you to think I was one of those people. Only interested in what your name and fame could bring us.’
I shook my head, even managed something close to a laugh. ‘Well, I did a pretty good job of using my name and my fame to get what I wanted from Antonio Galanos at the council.’
Nathan smiled. ‘I did wonder.’
‘Bloody hell, Nathan. You must have been dying to say something. How could you resist trying to wangle it out of me? All those times we talked about warm-ups and training.’
‘Being stiflingly self-disciplined can come in useful sometimes.’ He paused. ‘As I’m sure you know.’
‘Mmm.’
The momentousness of the whole conversation filled the room.
‘You probably should tell the others at some point.’
‘I know. I’ve agreed to open the centre.’ I sighed. ‘I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. The Larks have been… everything. Once they know, it’ll change. You heard them just now. Even if they pretend to be all nice and understanding, I know what they really think.’
‘Late-night idle gossip. You’re talking about the single mother of five kids, one of whom will never know who her father is. A human rights lawyer who was the only black woman in her Oxford college, and the girlfriend of a local mafia boss. They aren’t going to judge you.’
‘They’ve already convicted Amelia Piper.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s been so good being accepted as a loser, rather than a failed winner.’
‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I won’t be treating you any differently. And I hope that’s not been like a loser or a failed winner.’
‘You’ve been nothing but professional at all times, Coach Gallagher.’
