He’d jump out of bed at six, jog around the grounds of La Carousella for half an hour, perform Royal Canadian Air Force exercises for twenty minutes, swim a dozen laps, play eighteen holes of golf, rush out to the new court for doubles, followed by singles, followed by mixed doubles, and before dinner, while the others were napping, he was back in the pool, holding his breath under water. “Daddy can count to one hundred,” Jen told Sandy. “How high can you count under water?” “If I hold my nose I think I can make it to five.” “That’s not very good.” “It’s good enough. I don’t expect to ever have to hold my breath under water.” “But suppose you do?” “I’ll drown, I guess.” “But Daddy says . . .” “Never mind what Daddy says this time. Go and get ready for lunch.”
