1. Sink or Swim

Sophie White raced up the back stairs of Florence House, her footsteps on the worn stone echoing in the cold space as she climbed the three floors.

Damn, damn, double damn, I'm going to be late, she thought. Prep's never supposed to over-run on a Saturday, this is so unfair .

At the top of the stairs she pulled open the heavy fire door that led to the Sixth Form dorms, ran past the crowded common room, and the kitchen where she glimpsed the usual weekend breakfast crowd.

Oh, cheese on toast, if only I could join in .

But even if she had time, she wasn't sure she'd be welcome. Freya and her crowd would be in there.

And since the new term started they'd been blanking her.

She reached the end of the corridor, pushed hard on the door to her own room, and in one move flung her laptop bag onto her bed.

"Walk, don't run," came a voice from the other bed.

Sophie looked over: her roommate Hannah was lying back against the pillows watching something on her iPad, her hand hovering over the shared biscuit tin.

"Walking's for Year Sevens," said Sophie digging into her wardrobe, clothes flying. "Can I borrow your tracksuit? Mine's covered in mud."

"Gross," said Hannah with a shrug, munching on a biscuit.

Sophie didn't need a yes - after six years of school together it was unspoken.

What's yours is mine, mine yours. Live fast, die together. Friends till the end. No lies, no secrets.

Each time they moved up a year at Cherringham Hall School for Girls, she and Hannah had bound themselves tighter to each other with a new motto. And now they were in their last year, full-on Sixth Formers, just three terms to go before .

Sophie stopped herself thinking about that. About leaving. It made a pit in her stomach. Way too scary.

"So what's the rush? Seeing someone?" said Hannah. "Secret admirer?"

"As if ." said Sophie. "I'm running the Minnows club for Ms. Braithwaite."

"Tough," said Hannah. "Duty calls."

"Exactly."

"Hey - did you know you're late?"

"Very funny."

She grabbed her swimming costume, Hannah's tracksuit and a pair of trainers, then reached over, and pulled out a handful of biscuits from the tin.

"Seventy calories each," said Hannah.

"Doesn't count," said Sophie heading for the door. "It's breakfast."

"That make a difference?"

"Duh, yes. Latest research."

"Gotta love science."

Sophie raced out. "Laters ." she said, over her shoulder.

"Still on for Oxford this afternoon?" she heard Hannah say, as she turned into the corridor.

"Can't wait!" she shouted back, then she was off heading for the stairs again.

She checked her watch. Three minutes - she might just make it.

*

Being late - for anything - was a cardinal sin at Cherringham Hall. Sophie knew the ethos back to front and upside down, it was drilled into all the girls from their first term:

'Cherringham girls will be bright, independent, free-thinking, creative, confident, resourceful, tolerant - and above all, reliable.'

And the teachers made it clear that while most of those qualities might take a while to develop, the bit about 'reliable' - being on time - was one that had to be acquired immediately.

She wheeled off the main school corridor and took a short cut through the Dining Hall.

As she slalomed past the formal tables, she glanced up at the portraits of Cherringham alumni on the walls - explorers, poets, politicians, novelists, Nobel-prize winning scientists, businesswomen, International sportswomen.

Sophie and Hannah used to joke that the reason they'd all succeeded was that they were never late.

And generally, now that she was a laid-back Sixth Former, Sophie wasn't that bothered about being a few minutes late. But today was different.

Just a few days ago, on the very first day of term, Ms. Braithwaite had called Sophie into her study and told her that she - yes, she, Sophie White - was to be this year's House Guardian. Short of School Captain, House Guardian was the most responsible position in the whole school.

Now Sophie was terrified of letting Ms. Braithwaite down.

Ms. Braithwaite was the most . perfect teacher in the whole school. Everybody loved her. And she in turn knew everyone in the House, knew all their problems, all their fears and struggles.

If Ms. Braithwaite liked you, if she valued you, there was nothing you couldn't do. House Guardians chosen by Ms. Braithwaite were out there now in the world now doing brilliant things. Sometimes you saw them on the news being interviewed.

Sometimes they were even doing the interviews, dressed in those big jackets and helmets they wear in war-zones.

Through the big main front door now, Sophie hit the gravel at the side of the Hall at speed. Out here, autumn leaves billowed in the cold wind - she knew there'd be no teachers around to tell her off for running.

Only Tahir the caretaker's son, trimming the hedges. She saw him look up and watch her as she ran past, then turn back to his work .

Being late would be unforgivable. The Minnows - the Year Seven swimming club - was Ms. Braithwaite's pride and joy. Being asked to run it was not just a responsibility. It was a privilege.

Ahead she could see the glass and steel of the brand new sports hall - The Prince Said Building. The plush lobby area - where the girls were supposed to wait - looked empty .

Oh no, they've already gone through, she thought, pulling open the door, and feeling a blast of warmth.

The entrance to the pool was down a flight of stairs at the far end of a glass corridor which gave onto the gym.

She jogged along the corridor. Through the glass she could see plenty of familiar faces from all years pounding treadmills, rowing, spinning . Some smiled and waved.

She took the stairs to the pool two at a time. The air was even warmer here, she could smell the chlorine, and now she could hear the loud chatter of the Year Seven girls as she headed towards the changing rooms.

Was Ms. Braithwaite here already?

She pushed open the double doors and the noise immediately stopped. She looked around: twenty or so girls in their black regulation swimming costumes, frozen in mid-sentence, stared back at her.

Like statues.

"Good morning, girls," she said.

"Good morning, miss," they all responded.

"Is Ms. Braithwaite here?"

There was a pause. Sophie waited to see who would drum up the courage to reply. Did they even know she wasn't even a teacher - just a sixth former?

"No miss. We don't think so," came a voice from the crowd.

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief.

Phew. She'd got away with it!

"Line up now, girls, and we'll go through to the pool," she said, echoing the words she herself could remember from all those years ago when she'd been a Minnow too.

"Don't forget to pick up a towel from the basket on the way please. And no talking until we're all lined up - lined up, remember - at the side of the pool."

Taking a towel herself, Sophie led the girls through into the pool area. While the group followed her instructions, she went through the routines she'd observed so often: she walked around the pool checking the life-saving equipment was all in place, the panic buttons lit, the floats in order, the water pumps functioning.

She took one last look around. Although the pool was underground, the lighting was bright and warm. The water was flat and calm. The room temperature was perfect. When Ms. Braithwaite arrived the class would look drilled and perfect.

Despite the rush, this morning was going to be fine.

*

With ten minutes to go before the end of the lesson, Sophie finally relaxed. The morning hadn't been at all what she expected.

Just moments after she'd lined up the girls by the pool, a message had come from the Staff Room saying that Ms. Braithwaite was 'indisposed' and could Sophie please take the session on her own?

So that's what she'd done. That's what a 'Cherringham Hall girl' was supposed to do, she knew. Pick up the pieces - and adapt.

How many times had she heard that over the last few years?

And in the end she'd enjoyed it. She'd got to know the new girls and - she hoped - they trusted her. She'd worked on technique, on confidence, on breathing. She'd pushed them - but not too hard. She'd watched them race and made a mental note of the girls who might have potential.

That's exactly what Ms. Braithwaite would do, she thought.

And now, while she sat high up on the lifeguard ladder, she was letting them have fun, go a bit crazy with the inflatables. She scanned the pool, checking all the girls were safe...