Free Swim Until You Can't See Land by Catriona Child

Championships in Hungary. Jason, British record holder for the 100m and 200m backstroke, is hoping to make his mark in the championships, which take place this week.
    ‘I’ve been working really hard and I feel a lot stronger and faster than I did this time last year. It’ll be tough, but I’m in with a good chance.’
    There’s a picture of him in his GB tracksuit, hair wet and tousled. Not long out of the pool.
    He looks good.
    I hate that he looks good.
    I miss him, miss that part of my life. That was my life.
    I miss my life.
    ‘Do you know him?’ I jump as Calum speaks. He’s looking over my shoulder at the paper.
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Think he’ll win?’
    I shrug.
    ‘Probably.’
    I shut the paper on Jason. 
    Shirley arrives as we’re closing up.
    ‘Sorry you two, did you get on okay? I meant to come in earlier, but I just felt terrible.’
    ‘That’s okay,’ I reply.
    ‘I phoned the hospital, Hannah, the woman’s very poorly but she’s still hanging in there.’
    ‘Really, that’s great.’
    Wow, something good to come out of today’s madness.
    ‘What’s this?’ Shirley says, as she discovers the pile of biscuits we’ve cleared.
    ‘Some of the biscuits were out of date, Mum.’
    ‘Were they? That’s my fault, I’ve been meaning to do a proper stock check, just ran out of ink in the printer to run off the report. Hannah, I’ll maybe get you to do that on Monday.’
    ‘Yeah, no problem.’
    Every day. Every day. Every day. Every day.
    ‘Almost glad I’ll be at school,’ says Calum. ‘Alright if I take off?’
    ‘Hot-Pants-and-Tights’ is back, standing outside the shop.
    ‘Oh aye?’ Says Shirley, ‘who’s that?’
    ‘Blake, just a girl from my year.’
    ‘What sort of a name is Blake?’
    ‘Very good, Mum. I’ll see you later, okay?’
    ‘Okay, not too late though.’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, see you Hannah,’ he grabs his jacket and heads outside. I watch him and Blake walk off together.
    You fancy him.
    I don’t.
    Yes, you do. You bloody do.
    ‘Seems like he’s got over his wee crush,’ Shirley says, wiping biscuit crumbs off the counter into the bin.
    ‘What?’
    ‘That wee thing he had for you.’
    Me?
    Calum fancied me?
    Sometimes we’d all have dinner together, watch a film. He was about twelve though. I didn’t pay much attention to him, wasn’t always about.
    (stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke)
    ‘No,’ I shake my head, blush.
    ‘He used to talk about you all the time – Hannah, the famous swimmer. Oh aye, he had a real wee thing for you.’
    I guess I was more attractive back then, when I was the local celeb.
    (nobody wants you when you’re a nobody)
    Dad’s not in again when I get home. Everyone’s got something to do except me.
    Pub.
    Blake.
    Europeans.
    I make myself a cup of tea, slump down on the sofa with a packet of out of date biscuits. Don’t have to be so strict about my diet these days.
    I switch the TV on, channel hop for a bit, avoid the sports channels.
    It’s all rubbish. I press mute, put the biscuits to one side before I eat the whole packet.
    (you’ll put on weight now you’re not training, those muscles are already going to flab) 
    The Lottery’s on.
    I pick up the remote, about to change the channel when I remember.
    The Lottery.
    The old woman’s lottery numbers.
    Shirley said she’s still alive. I should check them for her.
    The lottery balls flick up and out of the machine. The camera zooms in on them as they line up in a row. I jot the numbers down on Dad’s old Sun which is lying on the coffee table.
    32 , 16 , 21 , 48 , 5 , 26 , bonus 44
    They put the lottery balls in order, flash up the winning numbers along the bottom of the screen.
    5   16   21   26   32   48   Bonus Ball   44
    Has she won anything?
    I run upstairs, my jeans are lying on the floor. I dig in the pockets, find the piece of paper.
    5  16  21  26  32  44
    Back in the living room, I compare her numbers with the