"Do anything special, this week, Charley?"
"I had an abortion."
"Birthday present?"
"Not quite; but the sperm was; and I got an additional surprise, too. Chlamydia"
"So, when Lydia Cartwright, and her gang, threatened to kill you, for being a stuck up, snotty nosed, southern slag, they were both making fair comment, and offering to do the whole world a favour?"
"Yes, you would be correct."
"Charley, you are a murderer."
"I know."
"You deserve to die."
"I know."
"Well?"
"I'm also a coward, and an idiot. Not just that, but an incompetent idiot. I would completely mess up killing myself. Maybe Lydia will kill me, after all; put me down, like a rabid dog."
"Why didn't you say, no, Charley?"
"I don't know. I did, sort of. I'm sorry."
Thus continued my internal dialogue. The one I have been having for the last month, most nights, until I cry myself to sleep.
Why don't we go back to the beginning?
The diving competition was on my eighteenth birthday. I have been diving for six years, and I used to think I was OK. I am scared of heights. Yes, really. That isn't a huge problem on the springboards, as you always look straight ahead. I'm a little short sighted, so the actual dive is always pleasantly blurred. Jenny, my new coach had been pushing me, really hard, to move up to the 5 metre platform. It's not even the highest, but it scared me shitless, and still makes me shake just thinking about it. I had only done twenty dives, off the platform, before the competition, but one of the girls was sick, and I was asked to make up the numbers, and move up to the seniors. I could think of nothing, but the 5m platform, for days. Why didn't I say no? Oh, I forgot for a moment. I am an idiot.
I joined the club, last year, shortly after we moved to Yorkshire. It is based at an Olympic sized pool. I also do water polo there. Previously I had dived at a pool that had two springboards only.
To say that I had settled badly in Yorkshire would be an understatement. I grew up in St Leonards, a run down town, on the South coast. I had always swum, often in the sea. My mates, and I, would often skinny dip in the English Channel, even in winter. I had been a keen gymnast, but fell badly, when I was twelve, and broke my wrist. I never got my confidence back. Diving seemed a logical progression.
My parents went through a messy divorce. One of them had to take me, and my younger sister, Holly. Mum got the short straw. Mum is from Bradford, and got a new job, and a tiny flat, near my Nan's. I have never made friends easily. Maybe I'm an ugly duckling. Ugly slag, more like. I was in trouble the moment I opened my mouth, and I have tried to keep it shut since. I don't know why I find Yorkshire people so aggressive. In fairness to them, I have always been a bully magnet. I am academically OK, nothing brilliant, and was hoping to go to university that October. That was before I got pregnant.
Back to the diving competition. It was in Stockholm, and involved a two night stay. The club was hoping to do well; plus our star, Jamie Knight, was hoping to qualify for the 2012 Olympics. I certainly wasn't. I liked the club, and had started to make tentative friendships. Jenny the coach was pretty hard on me. We had a "misunderstanding", when she made a pass at me, and she had been pretty cold since. I think I am a lesbian; in that I fancy girls, and have some pretty disgusting fantasies. I am far too scared to come out, though. She probably thinks I am homophobic.
I set a personal best on the 3 metre springboard, and was eighth, in that discipline, and twelfth on the 0.5 metre board. I basked in my few moments of glory, and felt a valued team member, but I could not stop looking up at the high boards. I had been to the toilet five times, before I took the long climb. I only had to dive, cleanly, into the water, and our club would come second overall. But, no. Jenny insisted that I do a half pike and full twist. Or was it a full pike and half twist? I panicked and entered the water, still twisting. I thought my right arm had been ripped off. I was winded. I gasped. I inhaled water. I panicked more. Everything went dark. Then I was on the poolside, vomiting into a bucket. Oh, the shame. We came third; all because of me. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Everybody was kind, which just made it worse. I spent four hours in a Swedish hospital. I had pulled muscles; nothing worse.
When I returned, in disgrace, to the hotel, my group were partying. Jamie had done fantastically, and was going to the Olympics. Good for him. It was his eighteenth birthday too.