Once Upon A Time in the West . . . Country by Tony Hawks Page A

legs not to become entangled in it, as I swam. To the others, this attention to detail was reason for yet more juvenile giggling, but I wasn’t allowing this atmosphere of jovial cynicism to dent my spirits. This would only serve to make the moment more precious, when the Hawks Harness did what it said on the (not-yet-available) label.
    For the second time in twenty-four hours, I clambered into the pool. Behind me, a chest expander dangled and a rope trailed. The frivolous audience applauded mockingly in feigned deference to a special moment. I raised my hand.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here today to see the first experiment with the Hawks Harness.’
    ‘Second experiment!’ called Fran’s dad. ‘What about yesterday?’
    ‘OK, second experiment,’ I conceded, ‘but the first one in a pool that isn’t rapidly emptying itself.’
    Renewed applause.
    ‘I shall now lower myself into the water,’ I said proudly, lowering my swimming goggles to cover my eyes, ‘and we shall see if the Hawks Harness is the success that Ken and I think it will be, or the hopeless failure that the rest of you are wishing for.’
    Laughs and more applause.
    I let myself fold down into the shallow pool and I felt the chill of the water prick my skin. The initial signs were good. My arms seemed to have enough water beneath them to affect a swimming stroke. There was no point in delaying, so I stretched out my feet behind me and set off, launching into my best crawl. To my amazement (I hadn’t been as confident as I’d been making out), one stroke followed another in the same way as normal. I kicked with my feet and pulled with my arms and yet I was being held in the same position. There was no jolting, no discomfort. I swam for a full minute. Each time my head turned to breathe, my goggles framed the stunned faces of the surrounding witnesses. I experienced a totally new feeling. Elation whilst submerged in water. For a second, I knew the joy of the Channel swimmer and the Olympic gold medallist. No point in smiling into water, but that’s what I felt like doing.
    After enough time had passed for there to be no doubt that the Hawks Harness had enabled me to swim on the spot effectively and normally, I ceased swimming, drew in my knees, lowered my feet and let myself rise triumphantly from the water, like Britannia from the waves.
    ‘Yes!’ I shouted euphorically. ‘It works!’
    ‘What does?’ said Nan, who had presumably, not for a single moment, had any idea what it was that she’d just been witnessing.
    ‘Oh, no!’ said Fran. ‘It works. This means he’ll be trying to get me to do it.’
    Oli jumped into the pool, eager to go next. Fran’s dad took photos. I looked at Ken, who was smiling, arm proudly around his wife.
    Triumph.
    We were inventors, not piano removers.

5
    Mister Chairman

     
     
     
     
    When you move to an entirely new area, where you know nobody at all, you need to be a little proactive in order to move your social circle beyond your immediate neighbours. One method I have always used over the years is to join the local tennis club. OK, you’re not going to meet the crowd from the wrong side of the tracks, but you’ll soon know, whether you want to or not, the doctors, solicitors and architects in the area. And one eccentric. And one bossy committee member who will tell you off for wearing training shoes with the wrong kind of soles. These are the rules.
    Despite our distinctly rural location, our neighbouring village had a tennis club with three courts, two of which had floodlights. (Don’t let the floodlights give you the wrong impression – the clubhouse was a hut with no changing rooms or toilet facilities.) I found the name of the club coach in the local monthly parish magazine, rang her, arranged a hit, and when she saw that I hit a half-decent ball, I soon had the men’s team captain on the phone.
    ‘Would you consider playing for the men’s team?’ he asked.
    I