Two

At nine years old, there were a lot of things that Martin could and couldn't do. More often than not, he would find that he couldn't do something, and that was before his inner ear problem put him out of action.

Martin just wasn't built for beginner's luck. That was what Dad said, anyway. Nobody else said a thing, except Caitlin, and she only blew raspberries at him.

It didn't matter. Martin was content. He was going to be a pilot, no matter what he could and couldn't do. Martin had all of the books, all of the models, all of the things that he would need to learn how to fly planes.

Dad was even going to let him join the cadets!

Anything to get his son to socialise with other children. They had visited the centre once to see how the other children liked it. The other children weren't as interested in actually flying, but it was something at least. At least they were a little bit interested in planes, and that was enough to make Martin look forward to the day that he was old enough to join.

It was enough to make Martin's confidence stay nice and high as he discovered more and more things that made him pass out; at least one new thing a year.

It was even enough to keep Martin from complaining as Mum and Dad, mostly Dad, tried to encourage him to take up more hobbies. Apparently an interest in planes wasn't a good enough hobby, even though Martin had stuck with it longer than Simon had stuck with anything in his whole life.

Martin was happy to sit and help Dad fix the van, or rewire the fuses under the stairs, or plumb the sink, so long as when they were done he could go to his room and learn about the next plane in his encyclopaedia. Dad was less happy about that bit, but Mum made him leave Martin alone instead of harassing him to go outside and play sports with him.

This week, the chosen hobby was swimming. Simon was competing for his school at the end of the month and wanted to show off his skills. This meant that everyone had been packed into the car and driven to the local indoor pool.

All the way there, Mum and Dad had reminisced about how the last time they had all been swimming had been before Caitlin had been born and Martin had been just a little baby. Dad was sure that Martin had shown a talent for it, even though that was doubtful given that at the time, he hadn't been able to support his own head.

Not that Martin had been listening, of course. He had a new book that Dad had bought at Duxford, just for him. A week beforehand, Dad had said 'enough's enough – Martin has more books about bloody aircraft than I have about spark plugs', but he must have forgotten that when he had driven home from his job in Oxford. He complained a lot, but he always made sure to buy his children gifts – something flight related for Martin, something yellow for Caitlin (who had sworn off pink), and something sporting for Simon.

So while Simon splashed around at one end of the pool, while Mum watched and cooed and kept one arm around Caitlin at all times, Martin sat on the opposite end, book in his lap, toes dangling in the water, doing his best to ignore Dad.

"Come on, Martin. Hop in and swim some lengths with me." Dad prodded him from where he was standing at the pool's edge, waist deep in the water, frowning as Martin kept his nose in the book; he didn't give up, "I bet I could beat you even if you got a head start."

"Yeah, 'cos you're bigger than me." Martin sighed, stroking the pages between his fingers as he spared his Dad a fleeting glance; it had been a long time since reverse psychology had worked on him, and he wasn't so competitive that he would abandon his reading material just to lose, "I-I-I-I can't even swim properly yet."

"Well you're never gonna learn if you don't get in the water." Dad groaned, and he reached out to take the book from Martin's hands, folding closed even as a squeak of protest left his son's throat, "Right, this is me telling you as a grown up now: you're gonna get in and swim around for a bit with the rest of us. It'll be fun."

"B-but Dad, please." Martin whined, pouting furiously, cheeks burning as he glared up at him, then out across the pool as if his siblings were to blame.

"No, no Dads, no pleases." Dad shook his head and ignored Martin's protests, picking him up under the arms and lowering him into the water so that Martin's feet touched the bottom of the shallow end, "We came here to swim, not to sit on the edge of the pool. Just swim around a bit."

Despite how cold the water was and how angry that he was about having his book taken away, Martin kept his mouth shut. He folded his arms and stood stock still, water lapping just at the top of his chest, but he didn't say a word. It wasn't fair really. He had no interest in swimming, but he had worked out by now that when Dad wanted something done, it was best to keep his mouth shut, do it for ten minutes, then declare that it wasn't for him.

So Martin swam around a bit. Actually, he puttered around the shallow end, occasionally lifting his feet from the floor, and checked over his shoulder to make sure that Dad was watching just how obedient he was being. It wasn't fun and it wasn't anything like what Martin liked to do…but it was making Dad happy, and it was nice to see the smile on his face.

Whenever Martin took his feet from the floor, Dad would even step closer and place his hand underneath Martin's stomach so that he didn't sink too far. That was enough to make Martin just a little more comfortable swimming for the first time since he was a baby.

"See, it's great isn't it?" Dad crooned as Martin studiously ignored him, "It bet if we trained you up properly, got you good enough to go in the deep end, you could compete, like Simon. You could be on the team, Martin, wouldn't that be nice?"

"No." Martin replied petulantly, splashing his hands to prove that he wasn't as good a beginner as Dad seemed to think.

"But you'd make loads of friends on the swim team." Dad bemoaned, frowning as Martin wobbled to his feet and stopped floating around. He placed his hand on his waist, the other on his balding head.

Martin didn't grace that with an answer. Instead, he just turned and pouted over at Mum and Caitlin, who were watching Simon line himself up on a diving block. Unfortunately, Mum caught his eye and beamed, waving them over.

"Raymond, come and see what Simon's doing." Mum called, and Martin knew she expected Dad to take him with him, "Today was supposed to be about Simon and you've barely watched a thing. He's ever so good."

Then she turned back to watch Simon as he grinned devilishly and hopped into the water. Dad offered Martin a put-upon sigh and shrugged his shoulders.

"Come on then, son." Dad rumbled, stepping closer so that he could swish an arm through the water and usher Martin along with him; he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in Martin's ear, "Let's go watch your brother show off."

Martin giggled, even though something panged in his chest at how easily his own plight was forgotten. True, he didn't want to swim, but Dad had been trying so hard to make him, and then all Simon had to do was splash around and everyone had to come and watch him. They wouldn't have even been there if it hadn't been for Simon.

Simon was perfect at everything.

At some point, while everyone else was watching Simon demonstrate perfect dives into the deep end of the pool, Martin started to really notice the water.

It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed it before. It was wet after all, and warmish. As they had swum into the deep end, Dad had kept one arm around Martin to make sure that he didn't sink. Martin helped the effort by turning his legs in circles and letting his arms lie to the sides to keep him afloat.

But he really began to notice to way that the water bobbed underneath his chin and tickled through his toes. The smell got in his nose and stung his eyes, but he kept his head above the water and listened to Mum and Dad cheer Simon on while Caitlin complained.

After a while, Dad's arm slackened as he clapped. At first, Martin was worried…then a defiant spark erupted in his chest. If Dad wanted him to swim, then he should swim. Show them all that he was as good as Simon. He didn't want to join the swim team, but he could if he wanted to.

Carefully, Martin pushed his arms through the water, tilted his legs, until he drifted away from his Dad. Elation tore through him as he stated afloat. He was doing it! He was actually swimming all on his own!

Giving in to a proud slither of confidence, Martin decided to let his head slip underneath the water…then back up. It was disgusting, and his eyes stung and his tongue was disgusting and his ears were ringing – but he did it!

Martin did it again – then again. Under then back up, like a proper swimmer.

Martin ducked under one last time, and he was about to rise, to tell Dad how good he had got all on his own – when his ears popped and dizziness flooded his senses.

Panic seized him and Martin started to thrash underneath the water as his head grew dizzy and his ears rang louder and louder. His eyes were squeezed too tightly to see anything, and the water was thick and sloshy all around him…Martin didn't know which way up he was, and he was so dizzy…

…The next thing Martin knew he was lying on the cold wet floor, blinking stinging eyes up at the ceiling and gasping for breath. His throat hurt and his head was spinning. Dad was leaning over him, a hand on his chest, and Caitlin's voice was somewhere to his right, going 'oh not again' over and over in her childish way.

Martin shivered and tears welled in his eyes as his body realised how frightened he was. Everything went past him in a blur. Dad was angry, Mum was crying. Simon was making a frowning, scowling sort of face while Caitlin was just as blissfully ignorant to his pain as always.

It wasn't until Mum was wrapping him in a towel and hugging him to her chest that he thought he quite agreed with Caitlin.

Not again.

Aw, poor Martin.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, brief as it was.