The Monster Belt

Chapter One
The village of Hawksmoor overlooked a stretch of green water called The Mere. As a child, Jess Swift had been indoctrinated about the legendary creature that supposedly lurked in its hazy depths, but she did't believe it existed. Adamant that there were no such things as monsters, she told herself that although the Mere was not a place she wanted to swim in, nor was it a place to fear.
Now grown up, she still liked to sit on the hill and gaze down on the small lake as she had done as a child. Now though, she made sure she never looked past it, further down the hill, to the hollow of ground with a large barn-like hotel at its centre.
The grass grew to seed on the hill, stroking her bare legs and caressing her cheeks when she lay down. She stretched out, listening to lapwings and giving herself up to the touch of air and grass. She had never been tempted to step into the deserted rowing boat by the unused boathouse and untie the rope, take up the oars and push out towards the centre of mossy water. She never wanted to dip in her fingers and see whether it was as cold as they said. The indoor pool five miles away in Littleton had put her off swimming and nothing would tempt her to try it again. The cubicles were too small, wooden seats always wet and if, struggling to undress in the cramped space, she inadvertently touched the plastic curtain, it clung to her back like a sheet of freshly pasted wallpaper.
And then the walk, almost naked, towards the fully clothed attendant who took her jeans and trainers and sweatshirt in exchange for a well worn, numbered rubber band that was always either too loose it fell off or so tight it pinched. Cold feet on a wet floor. Goose pimpled skin. Bouncing sound. Exposure.