Under Water

chapter three

"PENELOPE. MARIAH. HENRY. There is NOTHING wrong with you at ALL. Get out of bed, RIGHT NOW. '  'But I'm ill!' No. You. Are. Not. You have no temperature and your throat is completely normal. '  "It's not. It huuuu-rrrrts. It -" Penelope, we've talked about this.  If you miss a day of school, you have to be properly ill.  I've got Messy Art today;  if I miss it to look after you, I do not get paid.  Simple. '  Messy Art is something Mum does with toddlers in a church hall on Monday mornings.  In the holidays I have to go too and the one thing l'd say is that Mum is pants at naming things.  Messy Art should be called 'Messy Miniature Lunatics Go Ape'.  But when she mentioned it I sighed.  I know how hard Mum works and how we need every penny we have.  She does sums on bits of paper at the start of every month.  I found them once and looked down the columns.  I'm okay at sums and it did not take long to work out that, after all the food and dinner money and the gas and electric and the council tax and a bit for school shoes she was saving up for and a fair few others  things that did not sound like much fun, my mum had exactly nine pounds forty-three pence left over.  There was nothing on the list that she might have wanted.  'Up!'  she shouted, and I just sighed.  The first thing I noticed was the smell.  Tangy, in my nose.  Then the sound.  As soon as Miss Phillips pushed the door of the leisure center open I could hear it: loud and echoey and not quite real, laughter and voices and a hosepipe going, a phone ringing.  It was weird but no one else seemed to notice it.  But I gawped at the high ceiling and the bright light;  it was like walking into a big dream.  Then, as we marched through the foyer, I saw shapes moving around on the other side of these MASSIVE windows.  And that's when I first saw it: the pool.  My stomach lurched.  Sweat prickled on my forehead.  I stopped dead still and someone bashed into me from behind and knocked me over.  I picked myself up and just stared through the glass at the huge blue expanse shimmering in front of me.  My eyes went big as Frisbees and I knew: I could not do it.  No.  Way.  I'd just have to tell Miss Phillips.  Confess.  I shook my head, not even sure that I could take another step forward until I saw who had knocked me over.  "Sorry, Penelope, 'said Nicholas, fixing his hair to the side of his face as he leaned in close to me. Nicholas was smiling again and I smiled back as I realized something. His breath smelled of Weetabix. It's exactly what I have  for breakfast! We were made for each other! When he wished me good luck I mumbled thanks, and then followed everyone else through the turnstiles. "Boys, left, 'Miss Phillips trilled.  'Girls, this way please.  No messing about now, boys. " Now I know - as you see me walk into the changing rooms - what you are thinking. Clever as you are (and you must be clever to have chosen this book) you have worked out that my mum, not ever having taken me swimming, is unlikely to have bought me any swimming suit. Especially as, unlike Billy Lee's parents, she is not 'rolling in it'. On Friday, Miss Phillips had told us that if we forgot to bring swimming suit then we would have to wear the school spares, and the ones she held up brought howls of laughter: an ancient bodysuit, suitable, she said, for girls or boys. There was no way I was wearing that, but what could I do? I got the idea on Saturday but it wasn't until Sunday night that I could act. Mum goes to bed really early on Sundays, hardly any later than me. After she kissed me goodnight I lay awake as she watched a bit of telly downstairs and then listened to a few records. Old slow ones that she plays ALL THE TIME. I listened as she then sat in silence for a bit, until her phone rang. She chatted to someone and then I heard her lock the front door and the back door, before she went in the bathroom. When she went into her bedroom I waited a long time, listening. And there's something about my mum that I would like you to keep to yourself. She snores, and when I heard her doing this I got out of bed, opened my door and tiptoed down the hall to the boxroom. The boxroom is a small room near the bathroom. I don't go in there much. It's not that I'm not allowed; I just don't. There's nothing for me, just boring stuff that Mum stores. There's a tennis racket that she never plays with and some old bottles of wine. She doesn't drink. There's a pair of weightlifting weights and bin bags full of clothes. Uncle Bill bought me a small kitchen on eBay and it's a pain to keep putting up and down. The boxroom would be perfect for it but whenever I ask Mum why she doesn't chuck that junk away she just smiles and interferes with my hair. She doesn't answer, but I know why she keeps it all. It's my dad's stuff. Snore, snore, snore, whistle. Snore, SNORE. I glanced back at Mum's door and then I turned the handle. It only took five minutes to find the swimming suit. They were in the second bag Lonened (the first had baby clothes in, a little odd as Mum normally sells all my old stuff on eBay).  There were even some goggles.  I snuck them into my schoolbag with a towel and went to bed.  'Right, girls,' Miss Phillips said, putting her head around the changing-room door.  "Come on now."  "Yes, Miss, 'we all said We all filed out, a rushing noise getting louder as we made our way across these bumpy white tiles. We passed an old man having a shower who was completely covered in black and white hair, like a  badger with a person's head on, and