Saturday evening, the family arrived back home from Leicestershire. Upon arrival, Barry did doing something so unexpected that Mr Brand briefly wondered whether he had accidentally walked into the wrong house.
Barry asked for a bath.
Voluntarily.
Without being asked.
Mr Brand paused in the bathroom doorway.
Barry was sitting in the bath, wearing his swimming goggles, carefully splashing water over his face.
Splash.
Pause.
Splash.
Pause.
He took a breath, lowered his face towards the water and blew bubbles.
Then he sat up, wiped his eyes and did it again.
Mr Brand stared.
“Barry?”
Barry looked up.
“I’m practising.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
“For swimming.”
“I gathered.”
“Consistency is the key.”
Mr Brand blinked.
“Sorry?”
“Consistency. Claire said I have to do it every time, not just when she’s looking.”
Mr Brand leaned against the doorframe.
This was the same child who, earlier in the week, had argued that putting his shoes on twice constituted unnecessary repetition. Now he was in the bath conducting a personal development programme.
“That’s absolutely right,” said Mr Brand.
Barry dipped his face into the water again.
Bubbles rose around his nose.
He came up, wiped his eyes and nodded to himself.
“Again.”
Mr Brand quietly withdrew.
He needed to tell Mrs Brand.
Not because she would necessarily believe him, but because these moments were rare enough to deserve witnesses.
In the kitchen, Mrs Brand was drinking coffee, whilst thinking about a glass of wine, and attempting to read an email.
“Barry’s practising swimming.”
Mrs Brand looked up.
“Has he been told there’s a chocolate biscuit at the bottom of the pool?”
“No.”
“Has Marmaduke challenged him?”
“No.”
“Has he accidentally swallowed something and developed a sudden interest in water?”
“No.”
Mr Brand sat down.
“He’s practising because he wants to pass Stage 1.”
Mrs Brand put down her coffee.
“Oh.”
They looked at each other.
It was a small moment, but an important one.
Barry had been disappointed when he failed his first swimming assessment. He had been upset that Marmaduke passed while he didn’t, and he’d initially thought the whole affair was profoundly unfair.
But he’d listened to Mr Brand’s explanation.
He’d understood that Marmaduke’s success wasn’t the problem. His own inconsistency was.
And now, apparently, he was doing something about it.
“I’m proud of him,” Mrs Brand said quietly.
“So am I.”
A loud splash came from upstairs.
Then Barry shouted, “I’M GETTING REALLY GOOD AT THIS!”
Mr Brand sighed.
“And there goes the quiet moment.”
“Today is my last swimming lesson before Barbados,” he announced over breakfast.
“Yes,” said Mrs Brand.
“And I’m going to pass Stage 1.”
“We’ll see,” said Mr Brand.
Barry stopped eating.
“We will not merely see.”
Mr Brand raised an eyebrow.
“We will observe the situation with a positive attitude.”
“I am going to pass.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Marmaduke arrived shortly afterwards, carrying his swimming bag.
He was coming to the lesson too, although he’d already passed Stage 1. He was waiting for a place to open up in Stage 2, so until then he was attending the existing class.
Marmaduke was perfectly happy about this.
He enjoyed swimming, liked Claire, and didn’t particularly mind repeating things he could already do.
Barry found this difficult to understand.
“Why are you coming if you’ve already passed?”
“Because I’m waiting for Stage 2.”
“But you’ve done Stage 1.”
“Yes.”
“So why do Stage 1?”
“Because I like swimming.”
Barry considered this.
“That’s a strange reason.”
Marmaduke shrugged.
Barry returned to his breakfast.
He had more important things to think about.
His goggles were packed.
His towel was packed.
His swimming shorts were packed.
He had even checked that his goggles weren’t hiding in the bag’s mysterious internal dimension, where socks and small toys sometimes went to live permanently.
“Right,” Barry announced. “I’m ready.”
Mr Brand checked the clock.
They were twenty minutes early.
“Excellent.”
Barry looked at him.
“Don’t make me wait too long. I need to concentrate.”
Mr Brand nearly choked on his tea.
At the swimming pool, the familiar smell of chlorine greeted them.
Children were changing.
Parents were finding lockers.
Someone was already complaining about the temperature of the changing room.
And a small child in the next cubicle was loudly announcing that he couldn’t possibly wear his swimming trunks because they were “the wrong sort of blue”.
In other words, everything was normal.
Except Barry.
Barry was quiet.
He changed without conducting a forensic investigation of every item in his bag. He put on his goggles, checked the straps and folded his clothes.
Mr Brand watched him.
“Everything okay?”
Barry nodded.
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“What Claire will ask me to do.”
“That’s sensible.”
Barry adjusted his goggles.
“I’m going to do it properly.”
Mr Brand put a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s all you can do.”
Barry nodded once.
Then he walked towards the pool.
Marmaduke followed.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“A bit.”
“Me too, sometimes.”
Barry looked surprised.
“But you’ve passed.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous.”
Barry thought about this.
“No. I suppose not.”
Marmaduke smiled.
“Good luck, Barry.”
Barry nodded.
“Thank you.”
There was no boast about being the best swimmer in the world. No declaration that he could swim all the way to Barbados. No claim that he’d be able to rescue a shark before lunchtime.
Just a quiet, determined little boy getting ready to try.
Mr Brand felt a small lump in his throat.
Then Barry turned around.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“If I pass, can we have a celebratory snack?”
The lump disappeared.
“Let’s concentrate on the swimming first.”
“That’s not a no.”
“Get in the pool, Barry.”
Claire greeted the group with her usual smile.
“Good morning, everyone!”
“Good morning,” the children replied.
Barry said it too, quietly.
Claire explained the lesson.
There would be floats.
There would be swims.
There would be demonstrations.
And she would be watching carefully to see what each child could do.
Barry listened to every word.
Claire began with back floats.
One by one, the children climbed into position.
When it was Barry’s turn, he leaned back.
His ears went into the water.
His body settled.
He kept his head still.
Claire watched.
“Good, Barry. Keep looking up.”
Barry did.
“Relax your shoulders.”
He did.
“Lovely. Now let’s come up.”
Barry stood.
He didn’t ask whether that was enough. He didn’t ask if he’d passed. He didn’t look around to see whether Claire was watching someone else.
He simply waited for the next instruction.
Mr Brand, watching from the side, exchanged a look with Mrs Brand.
Mrs Brand mouthed, Is that our Barry?
Mr Brand nodded solemnly.
Possibly an impostor.
Next came the front float.
Barry put his face in the water.
He blew bubbles.
He held the position.
Claire asked him to stand.
He stood.
Then she asked him to do it again.
He did.
Again.
He did it again.
No dramatic coughing.
No theatrical gasp.
No announcement that water was trying to get inside his face without permission.
Just a child doing exactly what he’d been asked to do.
Marmaduke watched him with a proud smile.
“Good job,” he whispered as they passed each other.
Barry gave him a small nod.
He was saving his words.
This was becoming alarming.
The lesson moved on to swimming.
Claire demonstrated the movements, then asked the children to try.
Barry listened.
He pushed away from the wall.
He kicked.
He moved his arms.
He kept his face in the water.
When he needed to breathe, he lifted his head as instructed.
He reached the end and held the side.
Claire smiled.
“Very good, Barry. Let’s do that once more.”
Barry nodded.
He went again.
And again.
His movements weren’t perfect. He was four years old, not an Olympic athlete preparing for the 2032 Games.
But he was consistent.
When Claire asked him to put his face in the water, he did.
When she asked him to float, he floated.
When she asked him to demonstrate a swim, he demonstrated it.
And when something didn’t quite work, he listened to her correction and tried again.
At one point, he came to the side and looked at Mr Brand.
His face was wet.
His hair was plastered to his forehead.
His goggles were slightly crooked.
He looked like a very small, damp accountant who had just completed a difficult quarterly review.
Mr Brand smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
Barry smiled back.
Then he turned to Claire.
“What’s next?”
Mr Brand looked at Mrs Brand.
“I’m definitely proud of him.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
Towards the end of the lesson, Claire gathered the children.
She went through what they’d been practising, checking their progress and making sure everyone had had the opportunity to demonstrate the required skills.
Barry stood beside Marmaduke.
His hands were gripping the poolside.
He was trying very hard not to look anxious.
Marmaduke glanced at him.
“You did really well.”
Barry swallowed.
“Do you think I passed?”
“I don’t know.”
Barry nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Claire called Marmaduke over first.
She spoke to him briefly about his swimming and his progress while he waited for a Stage 2 place.
Marmaduke nodded, smiling.
Then Claire turned to Barry.
“Barry, could you come over for a moment, please?”
Barry walked towards her.
Mr Brand sat up straighter.
Mrs Brand stopped fiddling with the strap of her bag.
Barry stood in front of Claire.
She crouched so that she was at his level.
“I’ve been watching you very carefully today,” she said.
Barry nodded.
“I know.”
Claire smiled.
“You listened to the instructions. You did the floats. You demonstrated your swimming, and you kept doing what I’d asked you to do.”
Barry nodded again.
He was holding his breath now, and not because Claire had asked him to.
“Do you know what that means?” she asked.
Barry shook his head.
Claire smiled.
“You’ve passed Stage 1.”
For one second, Barry didn’t move.
He simply stared at her.
Then his face transformed.
“WHAT?”
Claire laughed.
“You’ve passed!”
Barry’s mouth fell open.
“I HAVE?”
“You have.”
“MY FIRST SWIMMING CERTIFICATE?”
“Yes, Barry.”
Barry let out a noise that was somewhere between a cheer, a squeal and the sound a kettle might make if it had just discovered it was going on holiday.
“I PASSED! DAD! MUM! I PASSED!”
He bounced on the spot.
He clapped his hands.
He looked at Marmaduke.
“I DID IT!”
Marmaduke grinned.
“I knew you could!”
Barry rushed over to the side, where Mr Brand was waiting.
“DAD! I PASSED!”
Mr Brand crouched down and wrapped him in a hug.
“You absolutely did.”
“I DID ALL OF IT!”
“You did.”
“I PUT MY FACE IN THE WATER!”
“You did.”
“AND I DIDN’T CHEAT!”
Mr Brand laughed.
“No, you didn’t.”
Barry pulled back.
“Because consistency is the key!”
Mrs Brand laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
“Yes, Barry. Consistency is the key.”
Barry turned back towards Claire.
“Thank you!”
Claire smiled.
“You worked hard for that, Barry. You should be very proud.”
“I AM!”
He was, in fact, so proud that he appeared to have grown approximately three centimetres while standing there.
Marmaduke came over and hugged him.
“Congratulations!”
Barry hugged him back.
“Thank you!”
Then Barry stopped.
He looked at Marmaduke.
“You passed before me.”
“Yes.”
“And now I’ve passed too.”
“Yes.”
Barry thought about this.
Then he smiled.
“That’s brilliant.”
Marmaduke smiled back.
It was a small moment, but Mr Brand noticed it.
Last time, Barry had found it difficult to celebrate Marmaduke’s success when he was disappointed about his own result. This time, he was simply happy.
Happy for himself.
Happy for his friend.
And proud of what they’d both achieved.
The journey home was noisy.
Very noisy.
Barry announced his achievement to everyone they passed.
He announced it to a passing cyclist, although the cyclist was wearing headphones and probably believed a small child was shouting about a sandwich.
He announced it to a dog.
He announced it to the front door.
He announced it to Snowball, who had absolutely no idea what was happening and would have preferred a quieter household.
“I PASSED STAGE 1!”
Snowball blinked.
Barry crouched beside him.
“I can put my face in the water now.”
Snowball walked away.
Barry looked wounded.
“She’s jealous.”
“Obviously,” said Mr Brand.
At dinner, Barry insisted on telling the story again.
He explained the floats.
He explained the swims.
He explained how Claire had watched him.
He explained how she’d quietly told him he’d passed.
Then he looked at Marmaduke.
“And you were there too.”
“I was.”
“And you said I could do it.”
“I did.”
Barry smiled.
“Thank you.”
Marmaduke grinned.
“You’re welcome.”
Later, as Barry got ready for bed, Mrs Brand sat beside him.
“I’m really proud of you.”
Barry looked up.
“Because I passed?”
“Because you kept trying. You listened, you practised, and you didn’t give up.”
Barry considered this.
“Even when it was hard?”
“Especially when it was hard.”
Barry nodded.
“Consistency is the key.”
Mrs Brand kissed his forehead.
“It certainly is.”
Barry climbed into bed.
He was exhausted.
He was happy.
He was also already thinking about Barbados.
“Dad?”
Mr Brand appeared at the door.
“Yes?”
“Can I swim in Barbados now?”
Mr Brand smiled.
“You can practise your swimming with an adult watching you, in a safe place.”
“Even in the sea?”
“Only where it’s safe, with us right beside you. Passing Stage 1 doesn’t mean you’re ready to swim in the sea on your own.”
Barry nodded seriously.
“Right.”
He thought about it.
“Could I get another certificate in Barbados?”
Mr Brand laughed.
“Let’s enjoy this one first.”
Barry smiled, closed his eyes and snuggled down beneath his duvet.
He’d started the week disappointed.
He’d spent Saturday practising.
And now he’d earned his first swimming certificate.
Not because he was naturally the best swimmer.
Not because Claire had been feeling generous.
Not because Marmaduke had done it first.
But because he’d learned to keep trying, even when nobody was watching.
And as he drifted off to sleep, one final thought floated into his mind.
“Dad?”
Mr Brand sighed from the hallway.
“Yes, Barry?”
“Do you think they’ll have swimming pools in Barbados?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think they’ll have snacks?”
Mr Brand closed his eyes.
“Go to sleep, Barry.”
“Okay.”
A moment later, Barry was asleep.
A newly certified Stage 1 swimmer.
A very proud little boy.
And, for once, a child who had finally understood that consistency really was the key.
Although the question of snacks remained, in Barry’s mind, an entirely separate and equally important matter.
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