It was with an unusual level of determination that Miranda Bell got ready for rowing practice that morning. She was a woman used to working toward her own goals, no matter the criticism she might receive for them, and brought enough determination to almost everything she did to be called stubborn.

But that Saturday, the previous night’s annoyance had become a surplus of will, and she fully intended to channel it into the practice.

Standing five ten in bare feet, broad-shouldered and muscular, Miranda was aware that she wasn’t all mens’ idea of the ideal woman. Equally, she was very aware that for three or four subsets of men, she was an ideal; her own interests lay with only two of those categories.

So she was picky, but equally, she was rarely at a loss for company, even if finding someone long-term was proving more of a challenge. The date last night had been a blind one, and while she’d expected quite a lot of it by the end, he’d inadvertently sealed his fate just when he thought he was making a good point

“Good lord,” he’d said. “I didn’t think people kept rowing, after university. Isn’t it a bit… you know?”

“I’m not sure I do,” she’d said. “A bit what?”

It had turned out he didn’t have an answer, and Miranda had diagnosed assumption and prejudice, enough that while other signals had been quite positive she no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Especially as he still played football for an amateur team. “Well, you know,” he’d said in self-deprecation. “Good exercise, isn’t it?”

Miranda couldn’t decide if the thing that had annoyed her most was the unexamined hypocrisy or the fact he wasn’t willing to admit to the love of team spirit and of competition that had to underlie it in truth.

Miranda rowed coxed fours. It was a big competitive outlet, it gave her a better reason to keep up her gym routine (she was absolutely sure she’d have abandoned it by now if she didn’t want to excel for her team) and she truly loved the other three women on her team.

Sure, there were only a handful of professional rowers in the world, fewer even than the number of professional sprinters or marathon runners and far fewer than the number of professional footballers, but it belonged in the same conversation for sporting endeavour and achievement. In Miranda’s opinion, that was well worth the fact it was a little harder to find tops that covered her shoulders without being too tight around them.

That Saturday morning practice had been one she expected to stand out even before she decided it was going to be how she worked out her anger at a failed date. It had been a couple of months since their cox Fatima had told them her career was taking her several hours away. She would have to give up her role within the team, and while it wasn’t a role which called for muscle, it was as important as any other (a cox would tell you more so, but then who didn’t want their role to be special?).

Finding someone to step into her role had been essential, but it hadn’t been easy. Miranda and the girls had wanted another woman to be their cox, but the only locals with experience were men. They’d actually spent a week debating whether or not to just take on someone with interest and train them up - Billie had coxed as a teen, before the growth spurt which had helped give her the power to make a different, so she knew what to do.

Ultimately, though, there were no rules in competition on the gender of a cox and they didn’t have time to train someone before the Camshire Cup, for which they were already entered.

Out of the two male candidates they’d found, Leo was both the better skilled and the less offensive; inoffensive was nearer the mark - his tongue was civil and his eye didn’t wander, making him a much more pleasant option for spending time with than Stu - so he had been offered the post and had accepted. The team were quietly confident they’d made the right choice under the circumstances, but that morning would be the big test.

A cox does not row. They have a clear view of what the team is doing and where the boat is going. They call instructions and corrections, and they keep the team together and motivated. After all, those doing the rowing can’t see where they’re going, and in a four - where each of the four-woman team sweeps one oar, as opposed a quad where each rower sculls with two - it’s very easy for uneven performance to send the boat in entirely the wrong direction.

The cox keeps an eye out for any issues of this type, then directs the rowers. They speak to the number one seat, known as the bow seat - furthest from them - to help guide steering, which is the responsibility of the one and two seats. They speak to the number four seat, known as the stroke, to regulate the pace. And they speak to two and three as and when appropriate.

The chemistry between a cox and a crew has to be strong, especially to begin with. The further on in their connection, the more experience can compensate, but even then, knowing the right words of encouragement to use isn’t as valuable as saying them in a way the crew will believe.

As such, ahead of their first time on the river as a group, Leo was probably feeling the pressure. Miranda smiled to herself; the way she wanted to work off steam, she knew she was going to just add to that weight. On the other hand, so did a competition. If he couldn’t cope when it was most important, they all needed to know right from the start.

She wasn’t the first to arrive at the boathouse, but she hadn’t expected to be. Rekha was always the earliest; at one time Miranda had tried beating her there, for reasons she didn’t like admitting to herself but which were rooted in competition. Just maybe competition beyond a rational point.

She’d found out afterwards why she’d failed; Rekha had woken up at 4:30 every morning, even on weekends, for over a decade. She’d developed a habit of using that quiet time to tackle any chores she might be faced with, but that was usually done by the time most people woke up. And appointments hung heavy in her mind, so she would leave the house by seven, buy breakfast on the way, and go on to the boathouse before half past.

Miranda, by contrast, could just about get herself out of bed on a weekend for half six, There hadn’t been much in it, but enough that even on a slow day Rekha would get there first. Miranda met Rekha’s smile with one of her own; the incident had become one of the reasons the two had a closer friendship than ever once they’d talked it out, finding a common understanding.

Leo was the next to arrive, which Miranda took as a positive sign. There were a handful of people who were habitually late for things who she still considered reliable in the thing itself, but not many; and Miranda was of the opinion, too, that if you showed up for something only on time the first time, you would be late on subsequent outings.

“I was going to bring everyone coffee,” he said, “and I was standing in line when I realised I should have got people’s orders before I tried that.” He produced a small paper bag from the car with a flourish. “So it’s donuts instead, and I’m just going to hope none of you are gluten intolerant or just don’t like them.”

Rekha laughed. “Careful, or we’ll get used to this.”

“Well, you know.” Miranda had settled down to sit on the bench outside the boathouse, but Rekha was a pacer, and Leo had to tilt his head back slightly to meet her eye. “I’m still the new guy, so I figure I’ve probably got a few grand gestures to catch up on. How long have the rest of you been a team?”

“Four years, most of us,” Miranda said. “Lucy joined us… a year ago?” She glanced at Rekha for confirmation, but her friend’s ponytail was already dancing from the apologetic headshake she was doing.

“Lucy joined two years ago now,” she said gently. “You, me, and Mel have been on the team for coming up on six.”

“That can’t be right!” Miranda was horrified.

“How long ago did we graduate?” Rekha asked, still gently.

She did the sum quickly in her head and sighed. “You’re right, then,” she said. “Man… I didn’t realise it had been that long.”

“You never do.” Rekha smiled warmly, taking away any sting Miranda might have felt at the correction. She turned to Leo. “Miranda lives in the moment,” she said in explanation. “Her past and future are usually kinda hazy.”

“I can understand that,” Leo said as Miranda helped herself to a consolation donut. “So you guys came straight out of university to, what, start the team?”

“Well… more sort of cement it,” Miranda said. “Ines already owned a boat - not the one in here.” She knocked on the boathouse wall with her knuckles. “It was second-hand and probably shouldn’t have been sold on in the first place. She and her ex were keen on rowing, they had a four and there were only two of them, but they wanted to get into competitions so they needed a team.”

“This is presumably before her ex was an ex,” Leo said. He was paying attention, at least. Miranda quietly marked that down as another positive sign.

“Right,” Rekha agreed. “The breakup was messy. Finished about a year and a half ago, but she’d left the team a bit before that. I think the fact we found Lucy and brought her in quickly didn’t help, to be honest.”

“Oh. A sign of replaceability, kind of thing?”

“Something like that,” Miranda said. “It was me who knew Lucy and brought her in, so it wasn’t Ines replacing her, just that we needed someone for the team. But you know how it is, emotional responses aren’t logical.”

“By definition,” Rekha agreed. Ines chose that moment to pull into the car park, and the conversation stalled briefly until she emerged, walking over with a broad smile. Lucy climbed out of the back seat; Miranda wasn’t sure whether the two of them were seeing each other or whether it just was that Lucy lived on Ines’ drive in, but she hoped that it was coincidence, if only because she’d be hurt if they felt the need to hide it from her.

“Good to see you, Leo.” Ines put her arm out for a firm shake, and Leo took it with the same cheer. “I hope you’re ready for work.”

He smiled. “I didn’t think we were here to play,” he said, but lifted the bag. “I did, however, bring donuts.”

“Ooh!” Lucy’s face lit up and she cheerfully accepted the bag. Miranda and Rekha, meanwhile, had moved to open the boathouse, each of them taking one door, Rekha having unlocked the padlock and removed the chain. The quintet moved inside, and Miranda made her way over to the locker and chair that she’d claimed long ago.

She shrugged the jacket free and took a moment to stretch afterwards, eyes closed, enjoying the freedom to move that gave her. Under the jacket she wore a leotard and a pair of sports leggings over the top, enough to stay decent on the river, but nothing to get in the way of her freedom of movement.

Around her the other rowers were doing similar, all with different preferences in sportswear, but this was still time to limber up in earnest. She caught sight of Leo over her shoulder, saw him trying to decide where not to look.

He sneaked a look up and down her body, and Miranda smiled to herself. Leo wasn’t her type, but it was still nice to outperform her competition in someone else’s admiration. She made a mental note, when she got the chance to talk to him in private, to let him know not to embarrass either of them by trying.

She’d let him down gently, of course. People had urges, her just as much as him. So long as they still remembered to behave like adults that wasn’t a problem.

Miranda and Ines handled the boat between them while Lucy and Rekha collected the oars. They’d started doing it this way before Lucy joined the team, just because the heights were diverse enough that only two of them could comfortably lift the boat at the same height.

Once in position, Ines stepped aboard, then Rekha, then Miranda, then Lucy. Bow, two, three, stroke.

After a moment, Leo chuckled. “Do you guys realise not one of you spoke through any of that?”

Miranda hadn’t, certainly. There had been conversation as part of it all once, but that had been a long time ago. Now it was just something they got on with; everyone knew how it had to go, everyone knew how best to do it. It had become ritual.

There was a moment more of silence before the four burst out laughing. The tension which had suddenly sprung full-formed into the air dissipated immediately.

“Actually, no,” Ines answered, her tone light. “Now get in the boat.”

Leo complied cheerfully enough.

Ines carried on. “I went through this with Leo the other night, but just for the rest of you, our plan is to do a brisk half-mile or so where Leo is just going to watch us and let us know if we have steering problems. Not race pace, just enough to give him a sense of what we can do. Then if he’s seen anything he can bring it up, and after he’s done that we’ll tell him what Fatima always said.”

“Why not til then?” Lucy asked. Rekha chuckled.

“If we tell him first, we prejudice him,” she said. “And we don’t get to test his eyes out, either.” She looked directly at Leo, who smiled back. “The test goes both ways, right?”

“Always does,” Leo acknowledged with a smile. “Right, so not race pace because we’ll be doing more afterwards and you’ll want some energy for that. But put your backs into it, have fun, and if you want to show off, show off.”

Miranda had expected a shy glance at her when he said that, but he actually hadn’t looked away from Rekha. Maybe he was one of those guys who’d been told women looked for eye contact and hadn’t understood why or what women took from it.

Maybe he wasn’t quite as into her as she’d thought. Honestly that was fine too, because it wasn’t like it was going to go anywhere; she didn’t need the ego boost.

“Fine by me,” she said. Leo flashed a quick grin. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get going, shall we? Mark.”

The four rowers began to sweep.

This was the part that Miranda loved the most, because everything about it was smooth, fluid motion. Drawing the oar through the water, two-handed, was the result of her shoulders and arms working together smoothly, was as graceful as any demonstration of strength could be. The surge of the boat as they each swept the oar back, too, was a burst of power that pushed them smooth and graceful through the water. And as the rowers faced backward, the sight of more and more distance they’d covered appearing in front of them was always a delight.

Miranda pushed herself, letting her earlier irritation become fuel, and as always the river itself soothed her over time, put everything else in context, the exhilarating endorphin rush of the exercise multiplied by her joy in doing so with her friends.

It was difficult for her to put into words; Ines’ ex, Michelle, had talked about gestalts and achieving shared headspaces through flow state and none of that was jargon Miranda was interested in understanding, it didn’t feel like explaining what they shared so much as hiding the fact they couldn’t explain it. But Miranda knew the feeling very well, the satisfaction she felt as she and the others rose to heights they could only achieve in concert.

You could knock any of the quartet out and bring someone else in, even a champion rower, and the group’s peak performance wouldn’t be as high, not to begin with at least. Not until a rapport was built up, until the new four understood each other well enough.

They actually rowed for a mile, well above the minimum they’d aimed for, and it was no error; it was the four of them not wanting to stop, and it was Leo not wanting to stop watching and learning. He spoke less than they would expect a cox to, but he’d said he would; he wasn’t quiet, exactly, certainly not when he had something to say.

A mile downriver Leo spoke up loud. “Ease off.” The team, acting not quite in concert, sat up in their seats, straightened their legs and left them straight, no more sliding on their seats, and dipped their oars a little deeper into the water, without sweeping; the surface area acted as the lightest of extra brakes, and the four of them acting as one to apply the brake helped keep the boat steady.

Ines angled her oar slightly, which turned the boat a little, and they drifted toward the bank, which Lucy reached out to brace against, bringing them to a near-halt.

The four rowers looked around, meeting each others’ eyes, smiling in satisfaction and letting one another see it. It was important, Miranda had always thought, to see just how much they each enjoyed the rush afterwards; it was one of the things that tied them together. She was close with Rekha these days, less so with Ines and Lucy, but they were all friends, and Miranda didn’t think she was kidding herself to say that these morning practices, as much as the competitive races, gave the four of them a shared bond that their other friends and partners couldn’t measure up to.

Case in point, it was Lucy who looked at Miranda and said “You came in mad this morning, huh?”

Miranda laughed. The annoyance she’d felt at the idiot the night before had transformed somewhere along that silver river as the bank flashed by, burned up like the fuel she’d planned to make it, and was gone now. “It showed, huh?”

“We can always tell,” Rekha told her, fully deadpan. Ines giggled.

“Okay,” Leo said. “I’m kind of relieved that there’s a reason three seemed to be going for a record.”

Miranda flashed him a wild grin, enjoyed the sudden glimpse of brief uncertainty on his face. “I’m pissed off a lot,” she told him. “But not normally with the crew, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” he returned, and his voice was even and calm enough that she believed him.

“Are you now?” When Lucy had joined the team they’d all assumed she was quiet. It turned out she was just shy until she felt comfortable in a setting, when her sense of humour was wicked - if it wasn’t, as sometimes happened, brutally sharp.

“No,” Leo said, and then laughed, and the four laughed with him. “Look, I’m usually the smallest person on a crew. Can’t afford to get scared.”

Miranda gave him a quick, acknowledging nod; I understand the problem, even if I don’t have it, and I respect your attitude.

“Anyway,” he continued, “you did point out one thing I was going to remark on for me. But overall I saw what I expected to see, which is a team that already knows how to be a team.

“You guys don’t need a cox to knit you together. You need a pair of eyes facing in the right direction, and you need someone to spot and settle any conflict between your rowing as it begins, even if long-term you’ll be sorting those issues out between you.

“I know seat one started the team, and I know you’re still in charge. I don’t think that’s because you’ve survived leadership challenges. I think the rest of your team recognise the value you bring, and nobody wants to be the top dog when you’re the alternative. At the same time, you don’t try to stay in control when the boat’s in motion. I appreciate you making room for me.

“Seat three is the boat’s powerhouse and I’m figuring it’s fuelled by emotion. If you told me you got into rowing to get out of fighting I’d believe it; I knew a guy like that in my college team. On the other hand, if you told me you abstained from sex the week leading up to a race so you could make the most of that pent-up burn I’d believe that too. I’ll have a better idea where your motivation is the more we row together.

“Seats two and four, I’ve got less of a read on you both. In what we just did, I saw these two’s personalities burning bright, and I saw you two adapting to support them. That might be the way you are as people or just the way you are as teammates. I wouldn’t want to guess which. Either way, it’s more of what we saw just with you guys getting ready. You’re on the same page. Any job I have is to help at moments you need it.”

He took a deep breath and looked at the four of them as they all sat in the boat, a little more than a mile from the boathouse. “So,” he said. “How did I do? Alright?”

“Not bad,” Ines allowed. “Fatima would probably have told you that Lucy needs extra encouragement at the start, but Rekha and I are the ones you have to watch to make sure we don’t slack a little once we’re out in front.”

Leo nodded thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have guessed, but I’ll keep it in mind,” he said.

“So what’s the solution?” Rekha put in, grinning broadly. “You got any ideas on how to fix us?”

“We don’t need fixing,” Lucy retorted, stung. Miranda patted her shoulder gently.

“You don’t,” Leo agreed. “I have some notions, yes. But most crews look at me strangely when I suggest I hypnotise them.”