Swimming Pool Sunday (22 page)

‘Forest Lodge?’ she said, raising her eyebrows. ‘The place for disabled children? I didn’t realize she was that bad.’

‘She’s not,’ said Mary robustly. ‘Not really. She’s getting much better. She’s talking, and reading a bit, and …’

‘Well, anyway,’ said Sylvia, interrupting her. ‘I’ve got some news! I’ve been asked to be a witness in the case for the Kembers!’ She looked around triumphantly. ‘I
got a letter yesterday, asking for a statement. Isn’t it exciting? I’m going to be a witness! I’ll have to buy a new outfit!’

‘Actually,’ said Mary, ‘lots of people have got letters. They wrote to me, too.’

‘Oh,’ said Sylvia disappointedly.

‘They’ve drawn up a big list of people who were there,’ explained Mary, adopting an air of nonchalant self-importance. Rarely had she been in the position of explaining things to Sylvia Seddon-Wilson. ‘Cassian says …’

‘Gorgeous Cass!’ broke in Sylvia. ‘Isn’t he a honey? Perhaps he could come over some time and help me with my statement!’ She grinned lasciviously at Mary, who stared sternly back. ‘Sorry, Mary, I interrupted you. What does Cassian say?’ Mary cleared her throat awkwardly.

‘He says, in a case like this, you need as much evidence as possible, as quickly as possible.’ Her voice unconsciously imitated Cassian’s smooth tones. ‘He says they want to know as much as they can before they put together the writ.’ She hefted Luke up on her chest. ‘But that doesn’t mean everybody who gets a letter will be called as a witness in court. They’ll only appear if they’ve got something of crucial importance to say.’

‘Something of crucial importance!’ exclaimed Sylvia. ‘My God, I don’t think I’ve ever said anything of crucial importance in my life.’ She gave a sudden guffaw of laughter, and ripped open the packet of cigarettes on the counter in front of her.

‘You haven’t paid for those yet,’ reminded Mrs Potter.

‘I know,’ said Sylvia impatiently, ‘you can put them on James’s account if you like. Are you going to be a witness?’ she added airily, as Mrs Potter reached down behind the counter for the account book.

‘No, I’m certainly not,’ said Mrs Potter, emerging red-faced and flustered-looking, ‘and I wouldn’t, even if I
was asked.’ She scribbled in the account book and closed it. ‘I think it’s shocking, the whole thing,’ she said with stern emphasis. ‘Taking those poor Delaneys to court! What did they ever do wrong? They was only doing their bit for charity and look where it’s got ’em.’

‘Yes, well, look where it’s got Katie,’ retorted Mary, feeling a need to defend Louise. ‘In hospital.’

‘I know that,’ said Mrs Potter, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. ‘And I’m very sorry. But if you ask me, those parents have got their priorities all wrong. The child’s not injured for two minutes, and her parents are already working out how much money they can make out of her! And from friends, too!’

‘That’s not fair!’ said Mary hotly. ‘They had to act quickly, otherwise all the witnesses would have forgotten what happened. And she deserves the money! She needs it! If you could see her … She could have been killed in that accident.’

‘Hmm, yes,’ said Sylvia thoughtfully, taking a puff on her cigarette, ‘but Mrs Potter’s got a point. If it really was just an accident, why should anyone have to pay compensation? Why should Hugh and Ursula be ruined?’ Mary looked at her, discomfited.

‘Exactly,’ said Mrs Potter. That’s just it. Why …’

‘On the other hand,’ interrupted Sylvia carelessly, ‘why
shouldn’t
the Kembers do everything they can for their daughter?’ She picked up a glossy magazine and began to flip through it. ‘I mean, if the diving-board really was dangerous – that’s what they’re saying, isn’t it? And Hugh and Ursula may well have enough money to cover it …’ Mrs Potter looked at Sylvia, puzzled.

‘But you just said …’ she began.

‘Oh, don’t listen to me,’ said Sylvia cheerfully, ‘I never know what I’m talking about.’ She brandished the magazine at Mrs Potter. ‘Can you add this to the account? I must run. Cheerio.’

She put the magazine over her head and darted out
into the rain. Mary and Mrs Potter watched her getting into her car, a large Jaguar, with a sticker in the back window saying, ‘Go First Class – Your Heirs Will.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Mrs Potter, sighing. ‘It seems all wrong to me.’

‘Well, I think they’re doing the right thing, suing,’ said Mary stoutly. ‘I really do. I mean,’ she said, searching for a comparison, ‘if you ate one of my … my homemade fish cakes, and it made you ill, you’d want some compensation, wouldn’t you? You’d take me to court.’ Mrs Potter looked at her in surprise.

‘Well, now,’ she said consideringly. ‘Would I? I’m not sure I would. I think I’d just say, “Oh, that was bad luck,” and leave it at that. Or, no, you’re right, maybe I would like a little something.’ She paused, and appeared to be thinking. ‘A Marks & Spencer token, perhaps,’ she suggested, ‘that would be a nice gesture. But I wouldn’t take you to court, not for a fish cake.’

‘Well, what if it killed you,’ said Mary, unwilling to concede her point. ‘Then you’d want something, wouldn’t you? You’d want some compensation? Some money?’

Mrs Potter began to laugh; a hoarse bubbling chuckle.

‘I’d be dead, Mary, love,’ she said. ‘If your fish cake killed me, I’d be dead! Money wouldn’t be much use to me in my coffin, would it? Nor a Marks & Spencer token, come to that.’ Her chuckles increased, and after a while, Mary couldn’t help giggling, too.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Mrs Potter at last, wiping her eyes. ‘It seems wrong to be laughing. Poor little girl; she didn’t deserve this to happen. And I do feel sorry for those Delaneys, too. I’d say they’ve had enough trouble these past few years, without all of this to-do.’ Mary’s face fell.

‘Yes, I suppose they have,’ she said eventually. She looked out into the teeming rain. ‘It’s a shame. It’s a shame for all of them.’

*

Meredith had risen early and spent the morning peering at law books – some newly bought, some borrowed from the library at Linningford. Half a foolscap pad was filled with dense notes before she stopped, stretched and looked out of the window. The rain was still pouring down unremittingly, and her sitting-room was filled with a soft grey light. She reached over, switched on a lamp, then winced as a harsh pool of yellow fell on the sheet in front of her. Better to be in the dark. She switched off the light, leaned back, and tried to make some sense of the facts whirling around in her mind.

Were Hugh and Ursula liable for letting a child dive, unguarded, off their diving-board? Or was it the child’s own fault? No-one’s fault? The mother’s fault? Should Hugh and Ursula put in a claim against Louise for contributory negligence? Should they trump up some kind of counter-suit?

Meredith shut her eyes and pulled a face. All the legal jargon was making her brain ache. She seemed to have read hundreds of accounts of cases of negligence in the British law courts. People who left spilt yoghurt on the floor of their store for people to slip up. People who allowed children to play with dangerous bits of wire. People who didn’t fix the bannisters on their stairs.

None of these cases quite appeared to resemble their own situation, and it now seemed to Meredith even more obvious that Hugh and Ursula
hadn’t
been negligent, not like some people were negligent. But at the same time, in her heart of hearts, she was beginning to see how Cassian Brown might put together some kind of phoney case against them; how he might even be able to convince a very stupid jury that Katie was a victim of the Delaneys’ negligence, and that she was owed damages. And if that happened, how much might Hugh and Ursula have to pay out? Meredith’s eyes glanced, unwillingly, down the list of examples of damages
claims which she’d compiled. Huge sums stared back at her, and she gave a little shiver. She’d heard the rumour about half a million pounds, which was going round the village, and dismissed it. Now she wasn’t so sure. A recent well-publicized case – in which a head-injured child had received nearly £700,000 from a negligent local council – jumped out at her particularly blackly.

Half a million pounds? Hugh simply didn’t have that kind of money. Not money sitting around, just waiting for an emergency. His business had dwindled considerably since Simon’s death; Meredith knew for a fact that it was bringing in only a small income. Of course, they could sell the little house in France – but that wouldn’t fetch much. Not these days. So … what? Would they have to sell Devenish House? Sell what little there was of the business? Take out some sort of loan? Declare themselves bankrupt? How on earth would Hugh and Ursula cope with that? Hadn’t they had enough?

Meredith stared into the pouring rain and felt an impotent frustrated anger rising through her. Abruptly, she got to her feet. She’d had enough of law books. Enough of the law altogether.

Hugh looked out of the window of his study and saw Meredith walking through the garden, in the rain, wearing her black strappy swimming-costume. She was heading towards the swimming-pool. He waited a few moments, then put down his pen and went outside after her.

The swimming-pool was heated to its normal temperature, and clouds of steam were pouring off it into the rainy atmosphere. Huge raindrops pounded fiercely down onto the surface of the water, which seemed, in this weather, grey and uninviting. But through the misty clouds, Hugh could see Meredith swimming determinedly up and down the length of the pool,
efficiently cleaving the water with her strong muscular arms, turning at each end in a seamless movement, purging something out of her system, he guessed. He stood by the side of the pool for a few minutes, sheltering from the loud battering rain under a bright-yellow umbrella. Eventually Meredith noticed him. She stopped swimming and began to tread water, holding her face up to the rain, closing her eyes.

‘I fucking hate them all,’ she said, above the pounding noise of the rain. Her eyes were still closed. Hugh gave a small grin, and squatted down by the side of the pool.

‘I had a letter from the Kembers’ lawyers today,’ he said, ‘requesting permission for some sort of safety expert to come and examine the diving-board.’

They both turned and stared at the diving-board, glistening wet in the rain.

‘The diving-board’s fine,’ said Meredith in a tight voice. ‘It’s just a diving-board. What’s he expect to find? Oil smeared all over it?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Hugh wearily. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfectly safe, but …’ He tailed off.

‘Perhaps we should rip it out,’ said Meredith, ‘and when this safety expert comes along, we’ll say, “Diving-board? What diving-board?”’

She gave Hugh a grin and he smiled reluctantly back. He looked old and defeated. Meredith could hardly bear to look at him. She took a deep breath and plunged under the surface, feeling cold water pour into her ears; hearing the sound of the rain on water suddenly muffled. When she surfaced, Hugh was still there, staring at the diving-board.

‘They won’t be able to prove anything,’ said Meredith, trying to sound confident.

‘And what if they do?’ said Hugh. He looked at Meredith, a haggard expression on his face. ‘What if it’s proved in a court of law that it was our negligence that put an innocent child in hospital? That our diving-board
was unsafe? How will we live with ourselves?’

‘It won’t be,’ said Meredith uncertainly. ‘No way.’ There was a doubtful pause.

‘It’s not the money,’ said Hugh suddenly. ‘I mean, of course the money is worrying, yes.’ He looked at Meredith. ‘You know what sort of sums we might be talking about, don’t you?’ She nodded. ‘But even if we had to sell everything …’ Hugh waved one hand in the rainy air, ‘it wouldn’t be the end of the world. We’d be able to live with ourselves.’ He looked at Meredith. ‘What I couldn’t live with is the thought that the accident was our fault.’ He looked bleakly at Meredith and transferred the dripping umbrella handle from one hand to the other.

‘No-one’s saying it was your
fault
,’ said Meredith, fiercely. ‘For Christ’s sake, what were you supposed to do? Guard the diving-board against stupid kids? When it’s perfectly plain that diving can, yes, can be risky? And when the kid’s mother was actually there?’

‘Maybe,’ said Hugh wearily. ‘Maybe that’s just what we were supposed to do.’

‘What, so nothing’s obvious any more?’ said Meredith angrily, slapping her hand down on the surface of the water with a sharp splash. ‘We have to protect everybody against everything? Whatever happened to common sense? Someone should have told that kid, if you leap high into the air you might hurt yourself. That’s a fact of life. It’s not anyone’s
fault
.’ Hugh shrugged.

‘But what if the board was dangerous?’ he said in a quiet voice.

‘It wasn’t dangerous,’ said Meredith angrily. ‘No more dangerous than any other diving-board.’

‘Maybe that’s enough,’ said Hugh. ‘Maybe the very fact that a diving-board is dangerous at all will be enough for them to win the case. I just don’t know.’

Meredith felt a stab of uncharacteristic fearful panic.
She and Hugh looked at each other for a moment, silent, except for the rain.

‘Well, God help the world, then,’ said Meredith at last, looking away from Hugh’s weary face. ‘And God save us from the fucking lawyers.’

A pair of sudden hot tears fell from her eyes, mingling with the drips on her face. Quickly, before Hugh could see, Meredith plunged back into the blue-grey depths of the pool, her legs thrusting furiously through the yielding water, her hair streaming out behind her, and the raindrops falling in splashy circles on the surface above her. She swam silently and desperately, holding her breath, until she felt able to surface and talk to Hugh again. But when, eventually, she surfaced, breathless, he had gone. And she was left alone, cocooned from the pounding rain in the warmth of the water, surrounded by steamy clouds, with no-one to talk to.

By the time the end of term arrived it was baking hot once more, and Amelia was asking, every day, if they could please,
please
go swimming.

They hadn’t been swimming at all since the accident; the vision of Amelia plunging again into the forbidding blue water of a swimming-pool made Louise shudder and feel sick. But she couldn’t say that to the child, and give her a complex for the rest of her life, so instead she said again, sharply, that they didn’t have time. Not at the moment.