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The boating pool is next to the library. Every Saturday she gets two new books and sails her boat. Today some older boys are sat on the bench she normally sits on, so she moves to another and places her craft in the shallow water. It will take a while to catch the wind. She waits and reads. She has no time for novels, so this is a book on the V-2 rocket. The boys shout, making fun of the stationary vessel, but she ignores them. Then one of the boys walks over, takes his trousers, shoes, and socks off, picks up her boat, wades out to the middle of the pond, and drops it into the water. Perhaps he is being friendly, she thinks; but the shouting says otherwise. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ ‘You are going to have to take a swim.’ Calmly, she places her book in her lap and takes a breath. She begins to whistle. The whistle
is not beautiful, but the boat turns and gently progresses toward the boys. The pond remains mirror-calm. The boys watch as it neatly docks in front of their bench. For a moment they are as still as the absent wind. Then the boy with wet legs picks the boat up and carries it back to the girl and places it in the water. He glances at her lap and sees the rocket book. He can’t see the title of the other book. But we can.