‘Even without Blackie?’ she asked. She could run the place, refurbish and expand, but if it was Blackie they came for then she was stuffed.
‘Blackie was new once too,’ Jess said, leaning against the doorframe, ‘Ron’ll do all right. If he wants to.’ The knot in her belly tightened at that last part. ‘Look at it this way Tiff, Blackie didn’t leave him the club, did he? Aside from Ron’s sense of entitlement, that speaks volumes. If there’s anything a boxer learns then it’s there’s no such thing as entitlement. You literally fight for a win, you need to dish up the sweat and the tears. That’s what everyone’ll be looking for; your sweat and tears.’
‘Wow. Sweat and tears. That’s really encouraging, Jess.’
‘Really?’ Jess beamed.
‘No. I don’t particularly relish the idea of people waiting for me to cry.’
‘No, so that wasn’t what I meant,’ she started back-tracking.
‘It’s okay, I get it. Everyone wants to see hard work, effort and results.’
‘Yeah, that,’ said Jess, wary.
‘Ron, on the other hand, does want to see me cry,’ Tiff said, wryly.
‘Probably.’
‘And what do you think?’ she asked. Jess was one of the few who knew her full plans.
Jess considered it. ‘There’s always going to be people averse to change. I think your plans are sound. They’ll do lots for this place.’
‘Thank you.’ Positivity. Yay!
‘But, you should know Ron’s saying you’re handing the club over to him.’
Tiff was incensed. He’d given her until the following day to decide. Apparently he’d assumed her answer and presumed he’d be doing the announcements. Had he no sense of business etiquette?
Jess saw she’d lit a firework and mumbled her need for a shower. Tiff hoofed after her down the stairs towards the gym. Flinging the door open, Tiff stormed halfway around the perimeter of the room before she realised Ron wasn’t there.
‘Anyone seen Ron?’
‘Nipped out for a paper.’ His devotion to The Daily Mail superseded most things. His evening pilgrimage to collect it meant he could sly a cigarette. Tiff’s courage deflated as she stood there thwarted.
Turning dejected back to the door, Tiff noticed Natalie North standing in the corner with her husband Ed. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, which gained him a shy smile, before he kissed her on the forehead and moved to the ring. Tiff looked at the floor, feeling she was intruding on a tender moment, whilst also tackling a pang of envy. She missed those moments and the close companionship so badly.
Looking up again, Natalie was perched on a wooden bench, book in hand. Rather than taking yet another walk of shame, Tiff detoured over to her.
She was a small mole of a woman, with a short black bob and round black-rimmed glasses. She was tiny; barely over five foot, which was exacerbated when standing next to six foot three Ed. It could have appeared comical, but instead they seemed to fit, like the yolk in the white of a boiled egg. What seemed incongruous to Natalie’s petiteness was the enormous sweatshirts she always wore over leggings. Tiff wasn’t a snob, people could wear what they liked and Lord knew she liked to relax in the evenings in sweatpants, but the outsize-top looked more like camouflage than leisurewear, as if Natalie was hiding in it.
Tiff joined her on the low bench.
‘What are you reading, Natalie? Anything good?’
It was a self-help book.
‘It’s the third time I’ve read this chapter. My eyes scan the words but nothing goes in.’
Tiff felt bad for her. Blackie had never been above a good gossip, in spite of Tiff not wanting to partake. Subsequently she knew the details; Natalie came because she didn’t trust her husband after he’d had a one-night stand. Valuing his second chance, Ed had resigned himself to it. He understood Natalie needed to do this. Of course, the other lads took the mick out of him, incessantly. Natalie ignored it. Tiff supposed that was the deal they’d struck; if he came, she came and the lads would dole out the punishment.
Yet Tiff couldn’t help wonder what kind of an existence this offered either of them? Childless, they could essentially walk away from one another, but clearly they’d felt they had something worth keeping, even though at this point, tender gestures aside, it didn’t look as if trust was back on the list. Briefly Tiff considered the opposing nature of her own relationship; while she and Gavin had had trust, he hadn’t wanted to stay with her. Perhaps the Norths couldn’t think of a better solution or way of moving on.
‘Natalie, would you do me a favour?’ Tiff asked. Natalie looked at her surprised.
‘I plan to make some changes upstairs and wanted to get more views on it. Would you mind?’ The way Natalie flushed, she knew she’d asked the right question.
‘I don’t know how I can help,’ she said, tentatively. Tiff suspected her confidence had been eviscerated. What good was it doing Natalie, sitting here, blending in with the racked equipment? Surely, in reassuring herself about Ed’s transgression, she was actually dwelling on it. Sounded like a vicious circle.
‘Honest opinions are all I need.’ Tiff kept her voice low, keen no-one should overhear. She didn’t want more rumours before she’d given Ron her decision, but to be frank, he’d started it. The gloves were off. ‘I need the feedback before I start wasting money. That’s all.’
Natalie nodded, pitching her book back in her bag. Tiff didn’t get the impression she was going to miss reading it. Following Tiff meekly to the door, Natalie kept looking her husband’s way.
‘He’s being pummelled by Amina,’ Tiff said, ‘He’s not going anywhere.’ Natalie nodded, a tinge of shame touching her face.
Tiff outlined the bare bones of her plans as she ascended the stairs. It took her a while to suss Natalie wasn’t with her.
‘Erm…Natalie?’ Tiff peered down over the stairwell banister. The woman was staring up at her, horrified.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Tiff.
‘You want to bring more women here?’ Ah. Tiff saw. She hadn’t played this right. At all. She scurried back down the stairs, linked her arm through Natalie’s and pulled her along to the next floor. Natalie walked like the living dead. Tiff sat her down on the office sofa and quickly made her a cup of tea, pressing it into her hands. She was tempted to drop a shot of Blackie’s brandy in it for the shock.
‘Natalie, does Ed like coming here?’
‘He loves it. He’s come since he was little. It’s part of who he is.’
‘Right,’ said Tiff, nodding keenly, ‘and you love Ed for who he is, yes?’
Natalie nodded in return, but her eyes were still as huge as saucers.
‘With kids having so many other entertainments nowadays, this gym can’t sustain itself if I don’t do anything new with it.’
‘You need new revenue streams,’ Natalie said plainly. This made Tiff smile. Natalie got it.
‘Exactly. I could use the space in a way that links with the boxing, i.e. fitness, then the club can be underpinned.’ Natalie was at least nodding again.
‘I want to build a studio room so there can be classes. I was thinking about Zumba for starters.’ This wasn’t the moment to mention the pole-fitness.
‘My cousin goes to Zumba,’ Natalie said, wistfully. ‘Says it’s brilliant.’ Natalie knew she was giving up her own life in her vigil.
‘That’s what I’m hearing too, and just think Natalie, you could take a class, while Ed trains. You could both be here, and both be busy.’ She didn’t need to point out Natalie’s behaviour was like a prison warden. Both of them knew what she meant. ‘I didn’t drag you up here to tout for business,’ Tiff hastened to add. ‘I’m interested in the classes you’d consider.’
Natalie took a moment to think.
‘I’d like an aerobics class, maybe Step.’ She briefly looked pleased, then the initial worry caught up with her. ‘Couldn’t you expand the gym, but keep it for men?’
Tiff pulled her mouth to
the side in consideration.
‘I’m fairly sure that’d be considered sexist, don’t you? I mean even the boxing club takes women.’ Tiff knew Natalie wasn’t bothered by Jess and Amina, but only allowing gay women wouldn’t work either. Natalie’s mouth flattened in defeat.
‘But a bar though …,’ she began morosely, as if it was the last straw.
‘That’s just my icing-on-the-cake dream,’ Tiff said, waving it away with her hand, ‘but imagine this, Natalie; you and Ed taking a class together, Spinning or something,’ Natalie’s eyes lit up, ‘and once you’ve showered, you end the evening in the bar for a drink. Together or with friends. People would know you. It wouldn’t be like a bar on the street with strangers.’
‘People would know Ed and I were together.’
Tiff watched as the scenario played out in Natalie’s head, a host of emotions crossing her face. It had to be an improvement on what Tiff imagined was a life stuck in a rut.
‘Natalie,’ Tiff said gently, ‘I think people already know that. You just have to have faith in Ed. Something like this could let you move on.’
Natalie looked at the floor, sorting something in her head.
‘I’d change the entrance for starters,’ said Natalie, suddenly and with a new-found confidence, ‘new customers need to know where to go.’ Tiff grinned, seeing Natalie was on board.
‘Exactly what I was thinking. Go on,’ Tiff encouraged her. And so the conversation continued, with Natalie suggesting the layout for a Reception, including a shop wall for incidentals such as shampoo and deodorant. Definitely deodorant.
It was simple enough, but it was exactly those small touches Tiff wanted the gym to have. The members should feel looked after. She was glad she’d asked Natalie now. Originally it had been a ruse to get the woman out of the hall, giving both Ed and her a break. Now she saw Natalie thought along the same lines.
‘Natalie? Where do you work?’ Tiff asked as they returned to the sparring hall.
‘Iceland,’ Natalie replied glumly. ‘Checkout.’
‘Would you fancy working here?’ Tiff asked, experiencing both a surge of panic for trying to employ staff, and also excitement that she was doing The Business. Natalie looked at her shocked, which made Tiff falter.
‘I mean, I don’t know if you’re looking, there’s nothing wrong with working at Iceland, or at the checkout, nothing at all, you might be very happy there, of course. You probably are,’ Tiff babbled, ‘but if not, and you fancied a change, maybe somewhere you know well, then at some point, soon, I’m going to need some help.’ Tiff’s heart was in her throat.
‘But, but,’ Natalie was stunned. Tiff saw she might have made a colossal prat of herself. Why would Natalie leave an established job for a business about to undergo major alterations which might not be for the better? Why would anyone walk into that kind of a headache?
‘Yes,’ Natalie said, quietly. Then, more determined, ‘Yes.’
‘You would? Why?’
‘Because you’ve asked,’ Natalie shrugged, ‘because I already live my life here, I might as well get paid for it. Because I desperately need a change. Because I don’t like who I currently am and if anywhere can change that it would be a gym.’ Natalie looked up at Tiff, a smile forming on her face as she went on, ‘Because if I get my groove back, then maybe I’ll feel more confident of Ed not doing it again and cut him the slack I know I have to.’
‘Would working here make it worse?’
She shrugged again. ‘Can’t be worse.’ Tiff nodded. She got that.
‘Don’t say anything yet, and don’t resign either, but I want you to know I’m excited about this.’
Natalie looked at her quizzically, ‘Why did you ask me, Tiffanie? You don’t know anything about me or my qualifications.’
Tiff considered this carefully.
‘I like your ideas; they match mine.’ This made them both laugh. ‘Like you say, you’re here all the time, so I should put you to some use. But mainly I look at you and see a hard worker, who’s put other things aside in an attempt to make something happen.’
Natalie ducked her head. ‘It hasn’t really worked.’
‘So we try something else. You might not be getting quite the desired results, but the effort is there and that’s what’s important. If we can make you feel strong again, then you’ll be exactly what this place is supposed to be about.’
Buoyed by her conversation with Natalie, Tiff knew she had to grab the bull by the horns. She didn’t want to put it off any longer. Ron would either be with her or against her, but not addressing the issue wasn’t helping. The sooner she could kick things off, the sooner she could show Gavin what she was capable of. She had a plan; three grown-ups of sound mind and Shelby thought it was a goer. So walking back into the hall, she did so like the Queen of Sheba.
Only, Ron wasn’t there.
‘Been and gone, love,’ said one of the older men. ‘It’s cottage pie night.’ Enough said, apparently.
The deflated Queen of Sheba waited to lock up and went to bed.
Chapter 13
It wasn’t one of those Thank god it’s Friday Fridays. More of an Oh Crap, it’s Friday Fridays. Ron was due his answer. It had only taken the night for her bravado to wane. Lying in the dark, her self-doubts came waltzing out. It was all very well other people saying go for it, carpe diem, you are so bloody doing this, but it wasn’t them doing it, was it? They weren’t the ones setting themselves up for a fall of Niagara proportions.
Her morning routine hoofing around the gym was more of a limp trot. The cartwheel was beyond her. She’d decimated her comfort food supply but lacked the willpower to shop for more. Food had rather lost its appeal in general, which in turn was no good for gymnastics. If it weren’t for fear of exposing her accommodation, Tiff would have stayed in bed all day and shut out the world.
Now though, having dragged herself out, Tiff’s state of dread had returned. It was Deadline Day, and there could be no more hiding. Having worked at her other clients’ offices for the last two days, she’d managed to minimise her interaction with Ron. Loitering in the office, she watched the car park for his arrival. The warning would let her steel herself. Meanwhile, she chanted under her breath Keep your eye on the prize. (Okay, so she’d nicked that off one of the stupid posters, but the moment required desperate measures.) Her prize was a six-foot raven-haired estate agent god in a pristine suit.
She heard Ron in the foyer, grumbling to the postie. Bugger. He was in a bad mood already. Tiff told herself to woman up; he was always in a bad mood. She was about to make it worse, so things could only go as badly as expected, or better. Taking a deep breath and totally faking it, she breezed down to the stairs.
‘Morning, Ron.’
‘Hmph.’
‘Got a minute?’ she started, trying to keep things light, though her stomach was leaden. Ron didn’t look best pleased, but accepted with a begrudging nod.
She led the way up the stairs, feeling the gallows awaited her at the top. Toughen up, she chided herself, being boss doesn’t mean being popular. Having worked for herself all these years, it had never been an issue. But this was different. Livelihoods would depend on her, and she needed to convince them to either trust her plans, or move on.
‘You’ve made some changes then,’ he said nodding at the office. It now centred around a lone desk in the middle. It was tidier, smarter and no longer hazardous. Tiff busied herself at the kettle, while he took it all in. His eye was on the desk when she returned with their teas.
‘He’s not coming back Ron, and I didn’t fancy sitting in the corner staring into the wall for the next decade,’ she said. She realised instantly she’d shown her hand, that she wasn’t going anywhere. Ron caught on immediately.
‘You’re staying then.’ He took the mug without a thank you.
She took the diplomatic approach.
‘I thought long and hard about your offer, but at the end of the day, I don’t think that’s what Blackie w
anted.’
‘Blackie wanted a boxing club, he wanted kids to have somewhere to come and learn,’ he said, defensively.
‘I understand that, which is why the boxing club’s integral to my plans. It’s at the very heart of it and will remain in the hall downstairs.’
Ron didn’t say anything, waiting sullenly for her to continue.
‘While your offer would, as you say, be easier and less disruptive, I want to be part of this place. I see it being a bigger entity and I honestly believe it’s the way forward if the club is to thrive in the long run.’
‘It could do that without all the change,’ he insisted.
‘I don’t believe that’s true.’ He shrugged in a Think what you like manner. His sulky teen act irked her.
Tiff pulled out her planning sheet. Half-expecting things might come to this, she’d typed it up. Giving it to him to read, she hoped he might be swayed by the multitude of possibilities.
‘Doing all these things is ridiculous.’
‘Ron, it’s meant as a starting point, a list of ideas, even ones that aren’t feasible, to brainstorm the breadth of potential this place offers.’
‘A crèche?!’ His eyes bugged out of his head as he prodded the sheet. ‘That’s plain stupid. No-one wants babies crying while they box. They come here to get away from that.’
‘It was just an idea, Ron, it’s not set in stone, none of these are. Try to see them as opportunities.’ His scowl told her he couldn’t get past the wailing babies. He sent the page flying back onto the desk. She wished she’d never given it to him. He’d made her feel her ideas were foolish.
Changing tack she went over all the points she’d covered with Natalie, but he didn’t nod along in the same thoughtful way. His ears were closed to all argument.
‘You should rent out these two floors to something else, and just take the money,’ he tried again.
‘This isn’t about just taking money, Ron. It’s about building on what we’ve got.’
‘OK, so rent me the boxing club and you do the gym upstairs. Two separate companies. That’ll be safer: when one goes down—’ she was pretty sure he meant hers, ‘the other can still run.’ She saw he wouldn’t be persuaded. He was still sure she couldn’t do it. It stung and she felt her resolve waning. But the others had been with her; Jess, Shelby and Natalie. Even Mike. It made her hold on.
Sweatpants at Tiffanie's Page 10