Mowbray Brothers, Page 2

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  In the sticky heat of Sunday afternoon Lucky pulled himself along the timber edge of the baths and turned once again to face his instructor. He stuck his foot into the slime and pushed off towards the centre. This time he remembered to kick his feet and stretch his arms right out in front as Amos had shown him. He took one big windmill stroke. Another. The thrill of doing it right broke his concentration. He laughed, sank, swallowed a mouthful.

  'Keep going, squirt. A bit more practice and I'll race you to the other side.'