Page 37 of Never Gonna Happen

‘Do you fancy getting out for a bit?’ she asked, putting a pile of dry plates in the cupboard.

‘I’d love to,’ replied Jamie, pulling the plug out to empty the sink for the umpteenth time. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘We could go to the beach.’

‘Sounds great,’ he said, drying his hands on a tea towel. ‘I’ll get my new scarf.’

‘And some shorts you can swim in,’ said Emily with a grin.

Jamie stopped and stared at her. ‘You want me to get in the sea? On Christmas Day?’

Emily shrugged. ‘You don’t have to. You can just watch from the beach and hold my flask of tea.’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Jamie, shaking his head determinedly. ‘If you’re swimming, so am I.’

The beach at West Wittering was cold but calm, with a light breeze ruffling the marram grass along the dunes. There were a few couples and families out walking dogs and flying kites, but most people were sensible enough to be at home in front of the telly. It would be dark in an hour, but for now the light was a golden glow in a beautiful rose-pink sky.

Emily led Jamie through the hedge from the sandy car park and along the short row of beach huts, stopping at one painted in blue and white stripes. It had a wooden deck at the front with a short slope down to the beach, and at high tide it was only twenty metres or so to the water. She put the flask of tea on the deck and draped her towel over the rail.

‘So how does this work?’ asked Jamie.

‘We leave our towels and clothes here, then get in the water. Swim about for a bit, then come back and get dressed again.’

‘You’re insane,’ he laughed.

‘It’s invigorating,’ she said, kicking off her trainers. ‘The cold will burn off all those pigs in blankets and make room for trifle.’ She took off her jumper, her arms prickling with goosebumps. She already had her swimsuit on underneath. ‘Make sure you turn your clothes the right way out so they’re easier to put back on.’

Jamie took a deep breath and pulled off his sweatshirt. His chest underneath was bare, dusted with pale hair. He was tall and lean but with broad, strong shoulders. Emily tried not to stare as he removed his jeans, revealing fitted black boxer shorts and strong thighs.

‘Hurry up,’ she laughed. ‘Last one in’s a rotten egg.’

He grabbed her hand and started to sprint down the beach, his head thrown back with laughter.

‘Don’t stop or you’ll never get in,’ shouted Emily. ‘Just keep running.’

They hit the icy water and kept going, shrieking from the shock of the cold. The water was shallow, and they were a good distance out before it covered their thighs and they couldn’t run any more. Jamie took a deep breath and dived in, gasping like a fish as he resurfaced.

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’

‘Just try to breathe,’ said Emily, swimming in short strokes around him as all the air was shoved out of her lungs. ‘Don’t think about it, you’ll be fine in a second.’

He stood up in water up to his chest, watching her swim. ‘How do you make that look so easy?’

‘Years of practice,’ she said. ‘Swim with me for a minute, then we’ll head back in.’

Jamie pushed off and swam beside her, unable to manage anything more than a gasping breaststroke.

‘Any warmer yet?’ she asked after a couple of minutes.

‘Yeah,’ he squeaked. ‘But I don’t think I’ll ever father children.’

Emily laughed. ‘Come on, let’s get out.’ They waded back towards the shore until it was shallow enough to start running again. It felt colder out than in now, so they said nothing other than the occasional swearword until they’d both frantically towelled off and pulled their clothes back on.

‘Better?’ asked Emily, handing Jamie a plastic cup of hot tea from the flask.

‘Much,’ he replied, hugging it with pink hands as his teeth chattered. ‘What kind of masochist are you?’

‘I used to come here all the time,’ she said. ‘Somewhere to swim away all my teenage angst. I hardly ever do it now.’