Sofa Surfer Page 2

  ‘Dead canny swimmer, yous.’

  I turned, startled to see she was talking to me.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Aye, yous.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I muttered.

  She must have been watching. Clearly even more bored than me.

  ‘Where’s ya yhem?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Ya home,’ she said, replacing the ‘o’ of home with dozens of unnecessary ‘u’s.

  ‘Here.’

  ‘You live in a lido?’

  ‘No, I live in Ilkley. Where you from?’

  ‘Can yous not tell?’

  Sort of.

  ‘Tyneside,’ she said.

  Even further from London.

  ‘What’s ya name?’

  ‘Tyler.’

  ‘As in bathroom tiler?’

  My lips didn’t move a millimetre. That joke was like chalk, worn away to nothing, after years of use.

  This wasn’t what I wanted. I’d hoped to meet someone from round here, someone from school maybe, someone my age. I had another quick squint to see if there was anyone fitting that description, but, no, they were all abroad, hurling themselves into warm water. Apart from a few mums and young kids, it was just us.

  ‘You’re not from roond here?’

  Didn’t want to talk to her. But had nothing better to do.

  ‘No, London. Family dragged me up here.’

  ‘Never been to London, me.’

  I wondered who she was. The Geordie didn’t seem like one of your typical Ilkley tourists: middle-aged men and women in shorts and boots about to take on the moor, well-dressed families about to stuff themselves on scones at one of the tea rooms, or coach parties coming to the Winter Garden to catch an act no longer good enough for TV.

  She’d probably come for the day, and having got here, wished she hadn’t. Probably bored stiff, just like me.

  ‘Do you live here?’ I asked.

  She chewed a nail, as if struggling with the question, even though it was the easiest one I could think of.

  ‘Hope to.’

  No idea what she meant by that.

  She looked away, towards the entrance, a worried expression on her face. But the worry was clearly passing through, because she turned to me again and smiled. ‘I knaa it’s a bit cheeky, Tyler, but I’ve gorra question for yous.’

  ‘What?’ I said, fiddling with the blue locker key on my wrist.

  Never in a thousand years could I have imagined what she said next.

  ‘Will you teach me to swim?’

  Four

  ‘Didn’t they teach you swimming at school?’

  ‘Only exercise we got was from fighting.’

  From the look on her face this wasn’t a joke.

  ‘Why not get lessons from the swim coaches?’ I said, looking at a young lifeguard, sitting in a tall chair on the poolside. ‘They’ll have forms at reception. Just fill in your details.’

  ‘I divvent dee details. And they’ll charge a fortune. D’ya think I’m made of money?’

  To be honest she didn’t look like the daughter of a Russian billionaire.

  ‘Doesn’t have to be lengths. Widths’ll do.’

  Wasn’t sure. I’m a good swimmer, but I’d never taught anyone anything in my life.

  ‘I’ll pay yous.’

  Three words that changed everything.

  One thing I needed, apart from a holiday and friends, was money. I had my ears set on a new pair of headphones. I’d seen an ad for the brand I wanted on YouTube. They looked sick. Swimming is something I can do with my eyes closed. And she looked keen, make that borderline desperate, to learn.

  ‘How much?’

  Her eyes screwed up so tight you’d think she’d taken her glasses off.

  ‘What aboot a fiver?’

  I snorted. No idea how much swimming lessons cost, but they’ve got to be more than that.

  ‘Ten.’

  She put her maths face on.

  ‘Seven-fifty.’

  I should have gone to reception to check how much they charge, but didn’t want her to go and find someone else.

  ‘Okay, seven-fifty for every half-hour.’

  ‘Half-hour?’ she blurted. ‘Thought it would be an hour.’

  ‘Have you ever been in Ilkley Lido?’ I said, adding extra weight to the word ‘in’. She shook her head. ‘Believe me, half an hour is more than enough.’

  She grinned and held out a slim hand. I shook it quickly.

  ‘See yous at the pool the morrow,’ she said, once again adding an extra letter to ‘you’ and amputating the letters ‘to’ from tomorrow. Shame she didn’t come with autocorrect.

  ‘Ten o’clock?’

  ‘Aye.’

  She got to her feet and walked away.

  ‘By the way, what’s your name?’

  ‘Me name’s Spider.’

  I was going to teach a Spider to swim. How mad is that?

  In the town where nothing ever happens something had just happened. A girl with a tattooed arm and a strange voice wanted me to teach her to swim. I’d been swimming that long I couldn’t ever remember a day I couldn’t do it. It was so easy. But teaching it was a different matter.

  When I got home I googled ‘how to teach someone to swim’. It looked fairly straightforward. All about confidence, and the Geordie girl didn’t seem lacking in that department. And she looked fairly fit. My biggest fear was that she’d be a complete natural, dive in and start powering up the pool doing tumble-turns after each length. Seven pounds fifty. Wouldn’t get a very good pair of headphones for that. I’d make sure I taught her really slowly.

  I don’t normally tell my mum what I’m up to, but on this occasion I did. Thought she’d be well impressed. After all, she’d been nagging me for ages to get a summer job, and that’s exactly what I’d done. But I must have picked the wrong moment. She’d had a bad morning watching people post nasty stuff online. Mum looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  ‘You’re not trained,’ she said, as she watched me throw my towel in the washing machine.

  ‘Mum, I know how to swim.’

  ‘Just ’cos you can do it doesn’t mean you can teach it.’

  I threw in a sigh and a big shoulder slump.

  ‘And who is this girl anyway?’

  Good question.

  ‘Someone who hangs out at the lido.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘About eighteen, I think.’

  ‘They must do swimming lessons there.’

  ‘She doesn’t want them.’

  ‘Surely she’d want a professional, someone with all the badges and stuff.’

  ‘Maybe she hates teachers.’

  Mum thought as she looked out of the kitchen window at our small, neat garden.

  ‘They have lifeguards, don’t they?’

  ‘Heaps.’

  But I could tell from her face she wasn’t convinced.

  ‘She’s not going to drown, Mum. The pool’s not even a metre deep.’

  ‘There’s a deeper bit.’

  ‘Which we’ll be avoiding.’

  She stared right through me as though I was glass. Couldn’t tell whether she was thinking about me, or what she’d seen on her laptop.

  ‘You wanted me to get a summer job.’

  She snapped out of her trance.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  She walked slowly over to me and took my hands, staring deep into my eyes. The stare made me look away.

  ‘Okay, you can do it. But please be careful, Tyler.’

  Five

  Next morning I was outside the lido, mouth dryer than a day-old sandwich, trying to remember what I’d read online. After a few minutes kicking stones I spotted Spider approaching across the car park. She’d swapped her baggy T-shirt for an even baggier sweatshirt and her ever-so-holey jeans for some brightly coloured shorts, revealing two of the skinniest white legs I’d ever clapped eyes on. Maybe that’s why she’s called Spider.

  ‘
Hi, Tyler.’

  ‘Hi, Spi … der.’ Felt stupid saying it. Sounded like a lead guitarist in a thrash metal band. ‘Why are you called Sp … ider?’

  ‘It’s Spider, all one word.’

  ‘Yes, why are you called that?’

  ‘Just am.’

  Spider seemed a bit jittery. Probably nervous about the lesson.

  ‘Howaay, then, let’s gan swimmin’.’

  I flashed my season ticket at the front desk and was surprised to see Spider do the same. I’d never seen her at the lido until the other day. It meant she wasn’t here on holiday.

  ‘So you live in Ilkley, then?’

  She ignored my question and quickly put the pass away in her pocket. ‘See yous by the pool,’ she said, and hurried off to the ladies’ changing room.

  I changed quickly, put my towel in a bag, and went outside, scanning the lido. Once again, couldn’t spot anyone even vaguely familiar. My guess was the kids from Ilkley Grammar would turn up late summer when they had tans to compare. For once I was glad I didn’t know anybody. They’d all want to know why I was giving swimming lessons to a paper-white Geordie, and they’d stand by the side of the pool taking the pee.

  A few moments later, Spider herself appeared. She was wearing an all-in-one swimsuit that could have fitted two of her. It was several sizes too big. The swimsuit revealed her body inking only went as far as one arm. Maybe it got too painful. Or she’d run out of money.

  Her face looked different. Funny how just taking glasses off can do that. She looked at me through two tiny arrow slits.

  ‘Tyler.’

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ I said. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Aye, just a bit nervous.’

  Not the only one. It seemed weird to be teaching someone, especially when they’re older than you, and you don’t know them, and they’re a girl.

  ‘Got your goggles?’

  Spider shook her head. I took mine out of the swim bag and gave them to her. She slipped them on.

  ‘Have yous not got any with prescription lenses?’

  ‘No,’ I snapped.

  Don’t think I’ll ever make a teacher.

  ‘Let’s start in this bit,’ I said, nodding my head in the direction of the fountain, where two little kids were busy kicking water at each other, letting out ear-splitting screams.

  Spider walked slowly around to the shallow end and dipped a toe in. The dipping didn’t last long.

  ‘Fog me, it’s freezin’. Isn’t there anywhere with warm water roond here?’

  I looked over at a building with scaffolding around it. ‘There was, until a few weeks ago. They’re doing repairs. The indoor pool won’t open until November.’

  Disappointment leaked on to Spider’s face, and she shivered as she looked down at the uninviting liquid. ‘Take a canny few kettles to warm this up.’

  ‘Still want to do an hour?’

  ‘Divvent think I’ll last a minute in this,’ said Spider, her voice vibrating with the cold.

  She gritted her teeth and eased her thin legs into the water, letting out little bursts of air as she went. I followed her into the pool, trying not to show her how cold I thought it was.

  ‘Not so bad,’ I lied.

  Spider stood, arms wrapped tight around her chest, body shaking, teeth chattering. I needed to get a move on. Google didn’t mention what to do if the person you were teaching had a heart attack.

  ‘First off, you need to get used to putting your face in the water.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You just do.’

  Spider slowly got down on all fours in the shallow water, then buried her face beneath the surface. A second or so later she reappeared, coughing and spluttering.

  ‘It’s gan doon the wrong way,’ she said, gasping.

  ‘Did you hold your breath?’

  Spider shook her head.

  This was going to be a long half-hour.

  ‘You’re not a fish, Spider. When you go underwater, breathe out. When you run out of air, come up for some more.’

  After composing herself Spider gave it another go. She was more successful second time round.

  ‘That’s berra. But I can’t see for bubbles.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not moving. When you swim you leave the bubbles behind.’

  ‘Dead complicated, this.’

  ‘Let’s go where it’s a bit deeper.’

  The instructions suggested holding someone’s hand to give them confidence. Apart from Tallulah and my mum, I’d never held a girl’s hand before. Shaken a few, but never held one. First time for everything. I held my hands out, and Spider gladly took them, gripping so tight you’d think she was water-skiing.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘It’s that bloody freezing I’ll be walking on it soon.’

  I led her deeper into the pool.

  ‘The main thing is to enjoy it. Think of it as your friend,’ I said, letting go of her and moving my hands through the water.

  ‘Friends like this I can dee without,’ she gasped, moving one white and one multicoloured arm quickly through the water.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough splashing. Now hold the side of the pool and kick your legs.’

  I’ve watched people inch their way into the lido. Spider millimetred her way in. But after enough swear words to get you excluded, she was finally up to her chest, the water making her swimsuit saggier than ever.

  ‘I-I-I’m in,’ she gasped. ‘Can I get out now?’

  ‘No. Now hold on to the side and kick your legs.’

  Spider grabbed the wall and started kicking like fury. For the first time I got a good look at the tattoos on her arm. They consisted of several flowery swirls surrounding two words – Me mam.

  I’d brought a kick board with me and handed it to Spider.

  ‘I’ll never fit on that,’ she said, looking at the small polystyrene float.

  ‘Just hold it out at arm’s length and kick.’

  Spider held on to the board and began to cross the pool.

  ‘I’m moving.’

  ‘That’s ’cos you’re walking.’

  After several failed attempts she finally managed to raise her legs from the bottom and began to kick. Great plumes of spray went everywhere as she edged her way across the pool.

  ‘Think I’m getting seasick,’ she gasped. ‘Can we stop now?’

  ‘Okay. Lesson over.’

  Spider left the pool a thousand times faster than she’d got in. She ran over the grassy area to her bag and began defrosting herself with a towel. I hurried after her and started towelling my legs as hard as I could. I looked over at Spider. She’d taken my goggles off and had a pained expression on her face. Or it could just have been the squinting from lack of glasses.

  ‘You did okay.’

  ‘Ta.’

  I considered going back to the changing room but decided against it. After all, I had nothing else to do. It seemed Spider didn’t have a packed diary either, as she sat there trying to make the most of what little sunshine was coming our way. But it didn’t look like the rays had cheered her up. That worried expression was there again.

  ‘Do you like living here?’

  Spider put her glasses back on and looked at the woods behind the lido. ‘Aye. Better than some places I’ve been.’

  ‘You travel a lot, do you?’

  She nodded, but from her face the travelling hadn’t exactly been enjoyable.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Places.’

  Spider would make a great spy.

  ‘I hate living here.’

  She turned to me, suddenly angry. ‘You’ve gorra house, haven’t you, a bedroom, heating, food for dinner? Then you’ve got bugger all to be hacked off aboot.’

  Don’t know what had rattled her. I’d only said I hated living here. Decided to talk about something else.

  ‘Why do you want to learn to swim?’

  Spider looked over at the moor, now capped with a large black clo
ud. She went quiet for a bit before speaking.

  ‘Doctor said it would be good for me.’

  ‘A doctor?’

  ‘Aye, said it would calm me doon.’

  ‘What do you need to calm doon, sorry, down for?’

  There followed an even longer silence.

  ‘You won’t tell anyone?’

  That was a joke. Who was I going to tell, apart from a one-year-old sheep dog?

  ‘Cross my heart.’

  ‘I get panic attacks.’

  Six

  Unless you’re scared of tea rooms, I couldn’t see anything in Ilkley to panic about.

  ‘Why do you get attacks?’

  ‘Think me body hates me.’

  ‘Are they scary?’

  She nodded.

  Maybe that was why Spider acted nervous, not knowing when the panic might creep up and attack her. Be bad if it happened during one of our sessions. Might be the end of her lessons. And my headphones.

  ‘Do you work in Ilkley?’

  But the question remained just that. She stood up. ‘See yous the same time the morrow, Tyler.’

  ‘What about the money? You did bring the money?’ I asked anxiously, as though I was about to have a panic attack of my own.

  Spider shrugged her bony shoulders.

  ‘You promised.’

  ‘I know I did, Tyler, man. And I will. Do I look like someone who doesn’t pay their way?’

  You do, actually.

  ‘I’ll pay yous.’

  Realised I didn’t know who on earth Spider was or where she lived or what she did. Maybe she was lying about her panic attacks. Maybe she was lying about the money. Maybe she was lying about everything.

  I should have googled ‘how to win an argument’.

  ‘I need the money,’ I said, as loudly as I dared, without attracting attention.

  ‘Keep your hair on, man.’

  ‘Please, just bring the money.’

  ‘I’ll bring it next time.’

  ‘And bring next time’s money as well.’

  ‘’Course.’

  Spider grabbed her bag and wet towel. I watched as her skinny legs took her back to the changing rooms. Perhaps she’d asked a load of other kids at the lido about lessons and I was the only one stupid enough to say yes. I went home praying I hadn’t been duped.