Page 151 of You Float My Boat

But as Oxford sped through the choppy waters, so did Cambridge.

‘Shit.’

The boats had passed the mile marker and, reappearing after Hammersmith Bridge and taking the bend, it was clear Cambridge now had the advantage.

‘Don’t say it,’ I muttered to Stella.

She stayed silent. The guy behind me, however, didn’t.

‘Ooh, Oxford’s had it now. Eighty per cent of the crews who go through Hammersmith Bridge and come out first go on to win. Cambridge will be lifting the cup.’

Gordon got there before I could.

‘Shut up,’ he snapped, as we both spun around only to come face to face with a light-blue shirt. Typical. ‘That means nothing.’

‘Oh yeah,’ the guy grinned, pointing to the screen. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

‘They’re only half a length ahead.’ Stella leanedinto me, ‘We’re lulling Cambridge into a false sense of security. Oz is going to step on it soon. Look at your brother, he’s not going to let Cambridge slip past.’

I wish I had Stella’s confidence, but the anxiety building in my stomach was becoming too much to ignore, and as the boats reached the Chiswick Eyot, Cambridge’s lead increased.

‘Shit shit shit shit shit shit. This isn’t good.’

Opening my hand, I found tiny crescent moons in a neat line across my palm where my fists had been clasped so tight, my fingernails had almost broken the skin.

I crossed my fingers instead.

‘Maybe they’ll do what they did with Bath a few weeks ago,’ Gordon offered up kindly, sensing my despair.

I could feel a restlessness buzzing through the air. The chatter had quietened down again, only for loud cheers to rip through the crowds with each close-up of the boats on the screen. Flags waved, scarfs were being spun in the air, dark and light blue streamers blew about in the wind. Twelve minutes had gone by, there was just over a mile left, and it was now abundantly clear Charlie wouldn’t be standing on the winner’s podium at the end of the day.

The last two weeks apart suddenly seemed totally pointless. I wanted to see Charlie, I wanted to be there when he stepped out of the boat. I wanted to hug him and tell him it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Why had it not occurred to me to be down by the boathouse?

Because you never thought they’d lose, said a quiet voice. You thought you’d get there in time.

‘Oh my fucking god. Cambridge is a whole length in front, they’ll never catch up.’ Soon, the tears would be pushing up my throat and then there’d be no stopping them. ‘Stella, do you think this is my fault? Are we losing because of me?’

‘Of course we’re bloody not. Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, though her words would be more believable if her tone was less panicked.

‘Stella, they’re nearly at Barnes Bridge, it’s only four minutes from there to here, we’ll never make it,’ I sobbed. ‘We need to get over Chiswick Bridge to the boathouse. Why did I think watching it here was a good idea? I’m such an idiot. Stella?’ I screeched.

She turned, took one look at my face, and didn’t argue. Just grabbed my hand and pulled.

‘Let’s go. Gordon, you coming?’

Gordon checked his phone, but with no news from his sister, he popped it back into his pocket and took off after us at a laboured jog.

Charlie

Violet wasn’t there. She wasn’t waiting for me.

I was too slow to stop the plummet of my heart, I was too exhausted to push away the crippling disappointment of Violet not being the first thing I saw when I turned to the riverbanks.

The surrounding cheers were almost deafening as we drifted under Chiswick Bridge, nine of us utterly depleted and dejected. Nine broken hearts. Oz washolding onto Marshy as he sobbed on his shoulder, behind me Brooks was breathing so heavily he sounded like he was about to hyperventilate. Further down someone – probably Frank – was being sick.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I had no words. Nothing.

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