Jack keeps swimming

Jack keeps swimming is a writing prompt taken from my 2023 short story collection Who can believe in witches?

They wander the yellow beach under a sun which heats Elsie’s cheeks despite her hat. She ties her cardigan around her waist, rolls up the wide legs of her trousers, and gives her shoes into Ted’s outstretched hands. He stays out of reach of the waves, watching over Elsie as she paddles in the lacy froth of the shallows. A soft breeze gently promises summer.

‘Almost warm enough to swim,’ she says to the air. ‘If you’re brave enough.’

Jack is the only one not to laugh.

‘Plenty warm enough,’ he says. ‘I’m going in.’

He pulls off his khaki trousers to reveal red bathing trunks which flatter his olive-skinned slim legs. His tie and jacket have already been abandoned to the picnic rugs, so he only has his shirt to remove. A hairless chest, well-muscled, Elsie sees before turning away. She keeps her eyes on the glittering blue water, chiding herself for her foolishness. After all, she’s seen any number of chests, hairless or hairy, always muscled, these past two years.

‘Coming?’ Jack challenges Ted.

‘No thanks. Too cold for me.’ Ted hugs his arms around his body and shivers.

‘What about you, bud?’

The mechanic snorts. ‘Might be sharks.’

‘This ain’t Florida,’ Ted says. ‘Too cold for sharks.’

‘Call yourself soldiers?’ Jack shrugs hugely, smirks at Elsie and runs towards the sea. He waves an arm in farewell, lifting the scars which streak like pink lightning across his back.

The tide is out and he splashes a long way, arms flailing, legs kicking up shimmering sprays before he dives into the water. His dark head emerges, seal-like, then one arm and another. He swims on, in the direction he was running, towards the horizon.

They all watch.

‘Is he going to swim home to the good ol’ US of A?’ the surly girl mutters.

‘Going in the wrong direction,’ Elsie says. She chews her lip. ‘Could end up in France though.’

Ted shakes his head. ‘Last place he’d want to go back to.’

‘Silly bugger.’ Ted shakes his head. ‘Hope there’re no currents out there.’

No one knows about currents. Jack swims on.

‘Heading off into the blue, just like that.’ Ted snaps his fingers. ‘Does what he likes, no thought for what might happen, who’s gonna worry.’

‘Should we do something?’ The room mate chews on a fingernail and casts quick looks between Ted and the tiny figure out in the water.

‘No.’ The surly girl flutters an arm in Jack’s direction. ‘See, he’s stopped.’

Elsie squints. Jack has indeed stopped. Is he resting? Or in trouble?

‘Come on,’ the surly girl urges. ‘Let’s walk along the beach, pretend we never saw him.’ She humphs. ‘Pathetic, showing off like a stupid kid. He needs to grow up.’

Read more about Who can believe in witches and my other historical fiction here.

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