Swim Until You Can't See Land by Catriona Child Page A

any time provided that the Doctor’s not on rounds. Only for a short while though – fifteen, twenty minutes at most.’
    ‘Okay,’ I reply.
    I can handle fifteen minutes.
    ‘I’m really pleased to hear from you. We’ve been having a real job trying to trace next of kin. Was it the police who contacted you?’
    ‘Right, yeah.’
    The police. I’m lying about the police.
    ‘Okay, my name’s Jackie. I’ll be here till about six if you want to ask for me.’
    ‘Right, will do, thanks Jackie, bye.’
    I hang up.
    Shit, Hannah, what are you doing?
    You can’t go and visit her, pretend to be some long-lost niece. Especially now she’s won the lottery. It’s totally dodgy.
    ‘She’s alive,’ I say to the fish, back in the kitchen.
    Alive but unconscious.
    Alive but alone.
    Alive but with no traceable relatives.
    No traceable relatives.
    I can’t leave her on her own.
    That poor old woman. Marièle. Marièle Downie.
    She has a name. She’s a person with a name and she has nobody to visit her.
    (no traceable relatives, no traceable relatives, no traceable relatives)
    The lottery ticket.
    It could be you.
    It could be you.
    It could be you.
    Stop.
    Stop it.
    I feel sorry for her. That’s all. Nothing more. She’s dying and nobody cares enough to visit her.
    Nobody cares enough to even notice she’s missing.
    (except me)
    I’ll go and visit. Return her purse. She’ll need it if she wakes up. Maybe get some Lucozade, grapes, a card. Let her know someone cares.
    ‘I owe her some Revels anyway,’ I tell the fish.
    I’m about to slip the lottery ticket back inside her purse when I stop myself.
    ‘I’ll just leave this here for now,’ I say, ‘in a safe place.’
    I put the ticket in behind the bowl, hide it under the tub of fish food.
    ‘Guard this with your fishy life, okay? This is our wee secret.’
    The fish swims round in circles, mouth opening and closing, gills vibrating.
    I let myself out of the house, lock the back door and pocket the key.

10

    I understand the clauses of the Official Secrets Act and am fully aware of the serious consequences which may follow any breach or misdemeanour. I will not divulge any information secured as a result of my employment, entrusted to me in confidence by persons under His Majesty. This applies not only during my employment, but after my employment has terminated.
    I have read and understood and hereby sign:
    Signature…………………       Marièle Downie
    May 1943
    My dearest Cath,                                 
    Well, I expect you’re wondering what’s become of me since I left for the big smoke. It’s all been a bit of a blur, I can tell you. I have joined up with the FANY and am now doing a spot of training for my duties. I’m afraid I can’t give away much of the nitty gritty, it’s all very hush hush. What’s new though? A few of us girls are billeted together in a hostel in London. They seem a nice bunch, although we’ve only known each other a short while so are still on our best behaviour. I’m afraid I’m not allowed to send you the address, they’re very stuffy about security. I’m sorry for the hurried goodbye, everything happened so quickly after I got the letter asking me to interview. You understand why I had to get away, don’t you? You more than anyone.
    Lights out soon and I must write a quick note to Mama and Father before I’m plunged into the black. I’m sure they will question you, but I’m telling all of you as much as I’m allowed to.
    Much love,
               M
    INITIAL REPORT  
    31st May 1943
    NAME OF RECRUIT: Miss Marièle Downie
    INITIAL INTERVIEW – PASS
Miss Downie speaks fluent French.
PSYCHIATRIC INTERVIEW – pass
    NOTES – Brother K.I.A. (Dunkirk).
Concerns voiced regarding her age. Death of brother had significant impact and should be taken into account. She has good language skills however, and meets the required profile.
ACTION – Report for training, Scotland, assess