Dawn had known by the screaming that someone was in trouble. It sounded like a small boy as she jogged around the trees near the end of her run. Increasing her pace, she saw a woman wearing a baby carrier at the edge of the lake by the swimming area. She was waving frantically at a boy as he thrashed in the water. “Please. Please help my lad,” she cried. Suddenly, the scene froze.
“Danny, Danny,” the woman with the baby shouted.
Dawn’s legs felt like rubber. She heard herself saying, slowly. “I can’t swim,” again and again.
It wasn’t busy at the Lido that day. An elderly man stood with an ice cream dripping from his hand. A few people eating at tables outside the snack bar stood up. The door opened and a young lifeguard ran down the pathway. Dawn was wading waist-deep in water when the lifeguard splashed past.
She felt as if she was miles from where she should be; where something tragic was happening; and she couldn’t get there in time to help. She felt useless.
Without remembering how, she suddenly saw the small boy huddled on the grass, pale and dripping. His mother and the lifeguard crouched round him, calming him.
Dawn looked down at her wet trainers. After a while, the boy seemed to rally and he was standing next to his mother when another boy, who looked just in his teens, went to fetch some pop and an ice lolly.

That was summer. Now, Dawn sat with the others in her class on the edge of the indoor pool at the leisure centre. She’d taken her confidence test in swimming just a fortnight ago and wondered how she’d been roped into this charity thing. ‘A Swim in the Park’ they had punned it, and it was at the Lido. Some were calling it a mini-triathlon, for people of a ‘certain age’. There would be a cycle ride around the perimeter fence, a run of several circuits of the small lake and a short swim – but you could probably wade in the shallows if you were struggling.
“You’re all up for this then,” a voice said blithely. Robbie was their swimming instructor: tall, bald, middle-aged. Middle-aged. How old is that these days? 40? 50? 60? Dawn turned to Robbie as he went on: “Right. Last thing for this evening. Three lengths. No hanging onto the sides.”
When the class was finished they changed and Dawn followed the others to the cafeteria. The talk turned quickly to the mini-triathlon.
“It’ll be practically Autumn. What’ll the water be like?”
“It will be cold, shall we say?”
“We’ll be warmed up by the time we start swimming.”
“Except the swim comes first,” said Robbie.
“You could buy a wet suit.”
Trouble was, a wetsuit cost money and Dawn had just spent a small fortune on a new carpet.
“How much are they?” she asked the rest of the class.
“Try one second-hand.”
“I doubt if you’ll find on in any of the charity shops.”
“What about eBay?” Robbie suggested.
“EBay?”
“You’re bound to find something there.”
“Maybe,” Dawn pondered. She really didn’t know anything about eBay.
When the others had gone, Dawn found herself sitting opposite Robbie in the corner seat.
“How about another cappuccino?”
Dawn thought, Why not? There’s no rush to go home. He’s a good talker.
Robbie was unmarried and had left the Navy a few years ago before taking up a teaching course. Dawn was divorced but with no children involved. Her husband hadn’t really wanted any, and in the end he hadn’t wanted her. She’d lost a lot of confidence, and was still healing.
To some extent, Dawn felt she’d missed out on kids, but wondered how, with everything else in her life, she’d ever have the time anyway. However, she had decided to donate her sponsor money from the triathlon to a holiday charity for families.
In an easy, awkward way Robbie said, “Fancy going out one evening?”
When she hesitated, he said softly, “Is there anyone else? Are you seeing someone?”
Dawn shook her head. “No, I’m not.” What could she say? They made a date for Saturday.

The following morning, Dawn saw her friend, Elaine, and told her about Robbie and eBay. Elaine was surprised about Robbie but not about eBay. She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you. I use it all the time. I get loads of stuff from there.”
So that’s what they did. Dawn logged on to the eBay site and trawled through masses of swimming equipment. There were all kinds of garments but filtering her search proved more difficult than she’d thought.
Elaine, perched on the edge of the desk, kept whistling at some of the bids but eventually they found a selection of reasonably priced wetsuits.
Dawn looked up from the screen. “So here’s the problem: I need it by a week on Saturday.”
“You just need to think about delivery. Doesn’t that one finish bidding this weekend?”
Dawn gazed back at the screen. There it was. A wetsuit, black with bright yellow piping, had two days left to bid and Dawn submitted hers, her heart racing.

The next day she told Elaine: “I checked again this morning and my bid is still the highest.” Before she knew it, Saturday arrived and her date with Robbie was in the evening. The bidding for the wetsuit ended at six-thirty. Nervy and tight-lipped, Dawn checked her bid while she was getting ready.
Click: ‘You are no longer the highest bidder’ came up on the screen.
“You’re joking me.” She increased her bid. Click, click.
A few seconds before bidding closed: click: ‘You are no longer the highest bidder’. “Oh, Give over,” she shouted, her fingers fumbling with the keyboard. Too late: six-thirty, the bidding was closed and she’d lost the wetsuit.
“What now?” she said, quietly, to herself, without the slightest desire to start all over again. It’s too late to be looking again now. Because, she thought, because, because.
A car beeped outside and she recognised Robbie’s blue hatchback through the window.

They went to a pub, a comfortable place where the ceiling had been stripped back to its original beams and the wines and real ales were listed on two large chalkboards.
The evening was going well; they discovered a mutual passion for cooking. As a single man, Robbie had learnt to cook out of necessity, and Dawn had enjoyed surprising her ex-husband with new recipes. Dawn was astonished to know that they’d been sitting there for two hours when suddenly she’d been disconcerted to see Robbie glance at his watch. ‘Oh God, he’s bored and wants to go home.’ She looked down quickly and saw her bag had tipped over on the carpet. Leaning over to scoop up its contents she sensed Robbie bending down to help. When he touched her hand, his fingers felt hot and glossy. “Here. Let me. Have you got everything?”
She could only nod, her face ablaze. Her hand tingled.
When she was sitting up, Robbie leant across the table. “Fancy a bite to eat? There’s a nice Indian restaurant along the street?”
Dawn felt a sudden thrill to be with Robbie: something seemed to click between them.
He smiled. “Was that a yes to supper?”
When they were sharing a table at the restaurant, Dawn told Robbie that she’d tried eBay.
“Oh, yes. How is the search for that wetsuit coming along?”
“Seen a few that I like.”
“But not found the right one yet?” Robbie smiled at her.
Dawn shook her head. “Not yet.”
“You’ve got another week.”
They talked and the attraction grew between them. But when Robbie drove her home, she was quiet, thinking about whether she could face another session talking to her computer screen in her search for a wetsuit.

Wednesday. It was the last swimming practice before the mini-triathlon. Outside the ladies’ changing room Dawn found Robbie waiting for her. At his feet was a carrier bag; she saw a black garment folded in at the top.
“Hello, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“Thought I’d wait to go down for coffee with you.” Robbie tucked her hand under his arm and, picking up the carrier bag, they walked to the cafeteria.
When they were seated, Robbie held the bag towards her. “This is for you.”
“What is it?”
“Go on, take it out.” Robbie’s face beamed with a smile.
“What have you bought?” Dawn pulled the black bundle with yellow piping from the bag. “It’s just like the one I was looking for. Where did you get it?”
“I bought it from eBay.”
“EBay. Really?.” She was quiet for a moment. “Now that would be too much of a coincidence if….”
“Stranger things happen,” Robbie laughed. “Anyway, please. It’s a present.”
“Oh, it’s great.” She looked at it again.
Robbie looked at her. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Her face looked down but she was not upset: she was laughing.

Dawn had known by the cheering that she was close to the finishing line. A good crowd had turned out at the Lido. The swimming circuit had been scary but better than she’d ever imagined and then the cycling and the run had been a doddle. She raised her arms across the line and cheered in a most unDawn-like burst of confidence. She couldn’t believe that she’d done it and felt tears threatening as she smiled at the other women in the class and accepted their congratulations. And then there was Robbie, cheering on the sideline, too: always supportive and helpful, never once making her feel useless or pathetic. In the beginning he’d told the whole swimming class: “You can do this. It’s one step at a time,” and from then on Dawn had felt her confidence growing, as if it had been dormant, lying undisturbed for years.
Knowing she was grinning absurdly, Dawn stood listening to the chatter around her. Who knew whether she would get any better at this swimming lark; whether she’d carry on with the lessons? It didn’t matter. But Robbie? She thought she’d rather like to take the plunge.