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As the moon came out to offer its meagre light to guide them, they walked down to the water’s edge where Clyde stripped off and watched as Andrew slowly did the same.
‘Remember, you have to keep going, no matter what,’ he said before plunging in and striking out for the far shore.
A second splash told him that Andrew was close behind.
A very disappointed Dave Conway was bending to pick up the boys’ discarded clothing when he saw Angelo approaching from the direction of the clubhouse.
‘They went?’ he asked and Dave nodded.
‘I’m going too,’ declared Angelo as he unbuttoned his shirt.
‘You can’t!’
‘Don’t say I can’t! I’m as good as any of you!’
‘The Old Codgers won’t like it!’
‘Sod them! They’ll have to get used to the idea!’
Dave Conway watched as Angelo slipped out of his clothes. He was of a mind to join him but knew the consequences of going against the wishes of the Old Codgers. Life, for him, in Henswytch would be intolerable if he defied them. Rules were rules and the Old Codgers made the rules around here.
Angelo dived in and despite Conway’s protests he swam out to try and catch up with his fellow rowers.
Out on the river Clyde was by far the stronger of the two swimmers and he quickly drew away, leaving Andrew to lumber through the water as best he could.
The instructions from his uncle and the Old Codgers had been most explicit in this. They knew full well that Clyde was capable of overcoming the Iceman and taking his place among the village’s elite, but Andrew was another matter entirely. His father had indeed been a ‘worthy’, but the boy did not seem to be made of the same sturdy stock. That was why it had been decided that Andrew must do the Swim, and do it alone. Sink or swim was the Old Codgers’ method of sorting out the enigma that Andrew Lang had become.
Clyde glanced and calculated that he was about to pass the river’s halfway point and had still not encountered the Iceman. He was feeling confident now and his arms swung past his head in steady strokes while his body felt warm with the blood pumping forcefully through his veins.
Suddenly the Iceman struck and Clyde felt the wind being smashed out of his lungs. The water had instantly turned frigid and the skin of his scalp felt as though it was trying to crush the skull beneath. ‘Shit!’ he screamed as he struggled to regain his composure. Don’t panic! his mind screamed. Keep going! You have to keep going!
Every muscle in his body knotted in reaction to the cold and his body temperature began to plummet which caused him to shake uncontrollably. The pace of his stroke dropped dramat-ically and it took all his willpower to keep going, even as his strength sought to fail him. Maybe I should go back? No! That’s what the Iceman wants me to do. I have to keep going forward. How much longer? How much longer?
Stroke by agonising stroke Clyde crawled toward the far bank. He was shaking like someone in the throes of malaria and could hardly feel his hands and feet when, with a final effort to freeze his intended victim, the Iceman let go his deathly grip.
Around Clyde the water’s temperature went up by a few degrees and that was enough for his body to begin to feel the warmth return. The youth’s body still felt as though it were made of ice, but he struggled on. More confident now he looked up to see that the welcoming flames of Tilley’s fire were drawing closer.
At last he found himself among the reeds at the river’s edge and was relieved to find that he could place his feet on the river’s muddy bottom. Still shaking uncontrollably he clambered up the bank and stumbled through the dark toward the fire.
Tilley heard him coming and rushed to his side. She ignored the freezing water running down his sides and wrapped her warm arms around him while drawing him toward the fire.
‘You’re freezing!’ she said.
‘The Iceman,’ he stuttered as he willed the flames to ease the pain in his tortured muscles.
‘Who else is out there?’
‘Just Andrew.’
‘Andrew! What made him do the Swim? I didn’t think he had the courage.’
‘The Old Codgers said he had to do it. They think it will make a man of him.’
‘Fat chance of that,’ sneered Tilley.
She had lived under the same room as her cousin long enough to understand his true nature.
Out on the river Angelo could hear that he was catching up with one of the swimmers, but he didn’t know which one it was. His slim body and broad shoulders were made for swimming and he felt strong as he powered through the water. Suddenly there was a scream from somewhere ahead.
Angelo swam on, heading toward the sound when he too found himself instantly caught in the grip of the Iceman. ‘Shit!’ he swore loudly as his entire body reacted to the freezing cold water.
Just then he saw Andrew Lang struggling toward him. ‘Go back!’ Andrew gasped. ‘It’s too cold!’
Angelo swam to him. ‘You can’t go back. That’s the trap. You’ll be too weak to make it all the way and you’ll drown. You have to go forward. Come on!’ he said as he stroked toward the far bank.
‘I can’t! I have to go back! I have a stitch in my side.’
‘No! This way. Come on. I’ll help you.’
He grabbed Andrew by the shoulder and forced him toward the far bank. ‘Come on!’
Shaking uncontrollably, Andrew reluctantly obeyed, but the cold and the pain in his joints were to be too much and his head disappeared below the surface.
Angelo grabbed for him, dragging him back to the surface by the hair. He cupped his hand under Andrew’s chin and then swam on, dragging his reluctant fellow swimmer with him.
Andrew slipped below the surface several more times before Angelo finally dragged the pair of them out of the Iceman’s grasp. Here, in the warmer water, they both rested for a short time while trying to regain their blood circulation.
The pair of them was completely spent by the time they reached the reed beds and when they were able to stand, they had to cling to one another while trying to catch their breath and get their stiffened muscles to work.
Suddenly Angelo realised that Andrew’s embrace had turned ardent and that the large youth’s penis was hardening with excitement. Angelo pushed himself away in disgust. ‘Let go of me, you big poof!’ he snarled.
Andrew’s face reddened in embarrassment. ‘Sorry!’
‘Friggin’ pansy!’ said Angelo disgustedly as he climbed out of the river.
‘I’m not a pansy!’ squeaked Andrew.
‘Of course you are. You’re a fucking queer and everyone knows it. I’ve seen the way you look at the younger boys when we’re in the shower.’
Andrew was shocked that his secret desires were known to others. It’s all a mistake. I’m not a queer. I have to make him believe that. He climbed out of the river on legs that still felt like jelly and grabbed Angelo by the shoulder to spin him ‘round. ‘I’m not queer!’ he insisted.
‘Fucking poofter! Listen to yourself. You talk like a girl,’ snarled Angelo as he pushed Andrew away again.
Weak with fatigue, Andrew’s legs gave way on the slippery bank