Page 106 of Oar Than Friends

‘Them?’

‘Yeah, Westcott and Stephens.’

‘Both coaches?’ shrieked Imogen, making my stomach clench. If it wasn’t about Oz then it was about the weekend race against King’s College. It had to be.

‘I know nothing about this,’ snapped Mary. ‘Why do I not know what this is about? I’m women’s president.’

Will reached out and tugged her jacket, ‘Come on, Mare, let’s go.’

‘No, I want to know what’s going on.’

I crossed my arms over my chest, and popped my hip, ‘You and me both.’

‘It’s nothing bad, Kate, I promise. Your Christmas is noone’s business anyway.’ He glared at Mary just as she was about to speak, and pulled her out of my room. ‘I’m sorry about all this.’

I closed the door behind them. ‘That was so weird.’

Imogen jumped to her feet. ‘Yes, but let’s get down to the boathouse now or we’ll be wondering all afternoon.’

‘I was going to go before training. We’ve still got an hour of study time allotted.’

‘You’ll not be able to concentrate,’ she argued back, though she had a point. ‘Let’s pack up the cards and finish our revision in the break room, then we’re saving time.’

‘Yeah, okay, good idea.’

In what must have been record time for Imogen, she packed up the cards and her training bag, and was ready to leave a full thirty seconds before me. Gossip was a strong motivator.

‘Come and find me when you’re done,’ she said, heading to the boathouse break room as soon as we opened the doors. ‘Good luck.’

It was hard to ignore the nerves as I knocked on Coach Westcott’s door. Every worry I’d had about Oz and every comment from my professors about a slipped grade was twisting itself into a giant ball of knots in my stomach.

‘Come in,’ Coach Westcott boomed, and I gingerly opened the door, trying my hardest to put on my most genuine looking smile, ‘ah, Kate. Come in. Sit down.’

I did as I was told, and slunk into the chair facing his huge desk piled high with papers. I’d not been in here before; I’d not even been in Coach Stephens’ office in its entirety, just peered over the threshold to speak to him. Roan Westcott had been a world-class rower in his day; the medals and photographs adorning the walls proved it. Five Olympic golds, World Championship golds, andphotos of him on the podium at Henley, the Boat Races he won, including as president of Cambridge.

He’d been one of the best rowers, now he was one of the best coaches.

The door opened, and I turned to see Coach Stephens. I thought he was about to close the door, but he was followed by Coach Godwin and Coach Thistleton, my coxing coach and the coxing coach for the boys.

I was officially confused.

Godwin closed the door behind him, and smiled. ‘Hi Kate, thanks for coming.’

‘No problem. Happy to.’

Again, I called up Will’s words that this was nothing bad, before I spiralled into another panic assuming I was about to get reamed out for clashing oars and losing our race last weekend.

That would definitely class as bad.

Coach Stephens sat on the edge of the desk. ‘We’ve been very impressed with you, Kate. Very impressed. For a first-year coxswain who’s never been along the Tideway before you’re as competent as anyone who’s spent years rowing there.’

I swallowed, thickly, ‘Thank you, Coach.’

‘Even last weekend showed a level of guts I’ve not seen in a while, and with some intensive training and discipline you’ll make a world-class coxswain.’

I ran my palms along my leggings, but it wasn’t helping the churning in my gut, and muttered my thanks again.

‘Okay, you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here,’ started Coach Westcott.

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