Page 56 of Oar Than Friends

The blades sliced through the water; my legs pushed down, driving me back in my seat as my body lengthened out, powering the oar forward.

And repeat.

It was cold enough this morning that my breath was visible in the air, a cloudy trail blowing out with every exhale I made, but I could still feel the trickle of sweat running down my ribcage and soaking my undershirt. To the left of me the sun was just peeking over the horizon, brightening the pale grass in the fields cut short for the winter.

There was something about being out on the water this early, before the sun rose, before anyone else could spoil it. We passed a barge moored to the bank, its chimney already puffing out smoke from its log burner, and the smell of fire filled my lungs, but they could take it.

We weren’t pushing ourselves too hard this morning. This wasn’t a session to end all sessions. This was a Monday morning session, and we were easing in our muscles for the week. Marshy was keeping us in easy time with his pace setting while huddled up in front of me. The crews had been switched out and this morning I was stroke for the new joiners; it was something Coach liked to do so he could see where the drag was, who the weaklinks were and how he would build two crews to race in March.

Tomorrow our Tideway training would begin; then it would start getting really hard, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

Since Saturday I had a renewed energy; my body was still buzzing with a latent adrenaline which had kept me awake most of the night, and given how long it had taken Charlie to wake up this morning, plus the somewhat sluggish appearance of the rest of the boys, I’d say I was the only one.

The reason: Kate Astley.

The reverberation of Coach’s megaphone echoed around the banks as he called time on our session. Even without pushing hard we’d set a decent pace, and I could see a couple of the newbies earning a spot on the crew for Isis.

As I looked to the bank, near Fleming Boathouse, I could see Charlie and Brooks standing by the dry dock, having already put their shell away. As I slowed down, Charlie waded into the water to pull my scull forward and Pete stepped out.

‘Morning,’ I grinned, nodding to the two steaming cups in Brooks’ hands, ‘one of those for me, perchance?’

‘Might be.’

I unclipped my shoes to step out, ready for Pete’s instructions so we all got out in unison and no-one’s weight toppled the shell causing us to fall in, which happened more on a Monday than any other day. I placed my oars gently on the dock, before slapping Charlie’s outstretched hand. ‘Thanks, Sunshine. I appreciate your help. And I appreciate you for that coffee I’ll be drinking in aminute.’ I leaned in to smack a kiss on Brooks’ cheek, only for him to push me away with a loud laugh.

‘Oz, stop fucking around,’ snapped Pete as quietly as he could, seeing as he was addressing the president in front of the junior crew, and who clearly wasn’t in as good a mood as me this morning. ‘You’re supposed to be leading by example.’

Brooks’ eyes widened, hiding a grin behind his coffee mug.

‘Sorry, mate.’

He mumbled something under his breath and walked to the end of the boat, ready to bark out his orders and get us back to the boathouse as he followed behind, until the shell was safely resting on its pipes.

‘Marshy, what’s up, mate?’ I put my arm around his shoulder, though with our nine-inch height difference it was a little lopsided.

‘Nothing. Just tired. Sorry for snapping.’

‘Sorry for fucking about,’ I winked, expecting it to raise a smile, which it didn’t. He simply walked off to the showers.

‘What’s up with Marshy?’ I asked, relieving Brooks of my coffee.

Charlie and Brooks both shrugged with a shake of their heads, so I didn’t push it, but it was definitely more than being tired. I’d been with him after forty hours of no sleep on a trip to Australia where our oars stayed in Singapore and we needed them for a race in two days’ time, and his perma-smile never faltered.

‘Speaking of moods, Charles here seems to have woken up.’ I smacked him on the back.

‘Damn right.’

Brooks pulled Charlie into a headlock, which distracted me enough that I didn’t notice the buzzing at first as it started up in the pocket of my jacket, and it took me so long to grab before it rang out that I pressed green before I could think.

‘Hello?’

‘Arthur?’ barked a voice which sent red-hot torrents of fury through every cell in my body.

I looked at my phone screen. How did I not notice the name flash up? I always looked at my screen for the simple reason that it could be any one of a huge group of people I didn’t wish to speak to, therefore wouldn’t answer. Unfortunately, it was the one person I didn’t wish to speak to the most.

‘What do you want?’

‘To speak to my son,’ my dad snapped back.

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