‘I figured it was something like that, but she found the gym and she recognised me immediately. Your long-term memory is excellent, isn’t it Nanna?’
‘Nuttin wrong wid my memory,’ Nanna Bea said with indignation, ‘unlike Michael, who’s forgettin his own dinna.’
‘There you see? She’s on top form,’ Tiff assured Mike, then to Nanna, ‘Mikey’s worried about you. But there’s no need is there? You’re right as rain.’
‘Fi sure, honey. You always were a smart girl. I tell him dat.’ Nanna flashed her a warm smile. ‘Michael love you, Tiffanie. Writes you love letters, but he too shy to send dem.’
‘Okaaay,’ Mike cut in sharply, ‘I’m sorting her collection before she embarrasses me any further.’
Tiff looked at the old lady and at the clock. It was only nine.
‘Give me the address. I’ll take her.’
‘You don’t need to do that. I don’t want to put you out.’
‘Seriously? Nanna Bea’s fed me so many fabulous dinners,’ Nanna Bea beamed with delight, ‘it’s the least I can do.’
There was a pause as he thought it through, but Tiff stepped in.
‘Let me do this for her. Please Mikey.’ She felt slightly more in control of things now, the business, her life; it was time she started making space for others.
He gave her the address.
‘Right. Take care then,’ she said and things were back to normal; slightly awkward.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘Bye then. And Tiff?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure,’ she said, meaning every word.
*
Tiff’s skin was tingling in anticipation as she passed back through the care home foyer. She was heading back to trial the new staff showers at the gym. She’d feel pummelled, exhausted and invigorated all at once. The Ladies’ changing room was a huge improvement on the men’s downstairs, in terms of shower pressure, aesthetics and odour. The men’s locker room smelled, there was no two ways about it; testosterone, which wasn’t always a bad thing, but predominantly it was feet, socks and sweat. And Lynx, which didn’t cloak it but added more cloy to the cocktail. Bad as it was though, Tiff still preferred it to the almost overpowering potpourri scent of the care home, which had her hustling towards the exit as soon as she was sure Nanna was out for the count.
Her mobile rang.
‘Hey Nats, what’s up?’ They’d only been apart for a couple of hours.
‘Can you hear me?’ Natalie’s voice was a rasping whisper.
‘Only just,’ Tiff said. ‘You got a cold?’ In spite of the baking heat in the home, she instinctively pulled her coat closer around herself. The absolute worst thing that could happen was her coming down with something. She didn’t have the time to be laid out with so much as a sniffle.
‘No, I’m just trying not to be heard,’ Natalie responded.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m in the pub. With the lads.’
‘Sounds like it’s empty.’ There was none of the banter she’d have expected from the lads after their training sessions.
‘Oh, no. It’s heaving, but I’m in the loos,’ Natalie clarified.
‘Then why are you whispering, Nats?’
‘Oh,’ Natalie said, flummoxed and adjusted her volume to normal, ‘Right. Yes.’
‘What’s up, Secret Squirrel?’
‘Ron’s setting up his own boxing club,’ Natalie blurted out.
At first Tiff couldn’t get her head around what she’d said.
‘What?’ Now it was Tiff doing the whispering.
‘He’s just told the lads. Starting next week, when you shut the hall for the refurb, he’ll open his club. He’s said it’s early days, so it’ll be quite sparse, but the equipment will increase as the membership grows and he’s said all the lads are welcome, but he said it in a “You’re expected” way, and he pointed out there’d be no trainer at yours anymore.’
‘Oh. My. God.’
‘He’s rented an industrial unit over on Dalton Lane, says it’ll look like something out of Fight Club initially, but the ring’s on its way.’
Tiff felt physically sick. ‘That snake. He said he was on board. He said he was staying.’
‘Only until he could sort his own thing, obviously.’
‘If he’d said, I could have been looking for someone else…,’ Tiff said weakly. She’d slumped onto a chair in the reception area and was eyeing the drinks machine for a gin option. Sweat was beginning to break across her forehead and it wasn’t a catch-up dose from the Zumba. This came from a bottle branded Panic & Dismay.
‘Yeah right Tiff, because that would be in his interest,’ Natalie said. ‘He doesn’t want the competition. He’s stitched you up good and proper.’
‘Yeah, I get that, thanks Nats,’ Tiff snapped.
‘Sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ Tiff sighed, rubbing her face, ‘you didn’t have to tip me off. I suppose Ed’ll move with Ron.’ If Ed moved, maybe Natalie would move too and she’d be without her receptionist-to-be to boot.
‘We haven’t discussed it yet. I nipped off to call you straight away, but Ed definitely looks uncomfortable. The younger lads, well, they’ll go wherever the action is, especially if you don’t have a trainer.’
‘I know.’ Tiff’s head was firmly in her hand.
‘I don’t suppose you can hold Ron to his contract?’
‘Ha!’ Tiff laughed ruefully. ‘You know Blackie. No contracts. His word was his bond and all that. They probably shook on it.’
‘He should stick to his word then,’ Natalie said crossly.
‘Yeah but his agreement was with Blackie, not me.’
‘But he told you he’d stay.’
Tiff exhaled long and hard. ‘We only talked about carrying on as things were. It was nothing formal, we didn’t shake on it. Oh, bugger,’ Tiff admonished herself. ‘From now on everyone has a contract. That’s if I’ve any staff left.’ She hadn’t meant it as a prompt, but she realised Natalie had gone silent. ‘Natalie, I don’t want to put you in a difficult position. You’ve been a real friend calling me and I appreciate it. I completely understand if you need to go with Ed.’ The thought depressed her though. Natalie had come out of her shell as well as out of the gym. She’d become a friend and Tiff didn’t have a multitude of those. The idea of Natalie returning to her old existence was distressing.
‘I don’t know what Ed’s thinking yet,’ Natalie said carefully, and Tiff screwed up her face to quell the sting in her eyes, ‘but if the receptionist job’s still going, then I’m in. Ron might think it’s okay to poach the customers, but I don’t. I’m not sitting in a cold unit watching him do so.’
‘But what about…’ Tiff didn’t know how to say it. Your mistrust of your husband? How exactly did one put that?
Natalie sighed. ‘Things are better since I stopped hanging around the gym, Tiff. Between Ed and me, I mean. More relaxed. And the thing is, I’m happier doing other things, helping you, rather than sitting there with the lads ribbing us. I think Ed sees me venturing out as him winning my trust. Maybe he has, but at the end of the day, I just have to have faith, don’t I? Or else what’s the point?’
‘Oh, Nats,’ Tiff breathed. Talk about a breakthrough. There was the silver lining. Only a thin one though, in a whacking great cloud, because Ron was a heinous traitor and her business plan had just fallen on its arse, possibly bringing the entire enterprise crashing catastrophically to its knees, rendering her penniless, demoralised and still homeless. Having hung up and ditched the phone beside her, she let rip her feelings. ‘Bloody bastard, bugger, bum.’
She stood corrected on her sniffle fear. This was the absolute worst thing that could happen.
Chapter 18
Tiff wasn’t prone to histrionics – plenty of crying recently as it turned out; predominantly pitiful weeping – but not hysteria. But right now, in light of the call and given she was alone in the foyer of a
building largely populated with the sedated or geriatric-of-hearing, she desperately wanted to exercise her right to a good old howl. One from the pit of her gut, Munch style.
So much for crowing ‘In your face!’ to the nay-sayers. She’d lost the gem in her crown. Now she’d have just any old start-up gym, in a duff part of town. The climb had gone from Ben Nevis to Everest within the space of a phone call from some toilets. In lieu of the howling, which she couldn’t bring herself to execute in public, she scrunched her face up and let out a long low screech.
‘Tiff?’ Mike was standing in the doorway, staring at her. His jeans, T-shirt and leather jacket ensemble coupled with the motorbike helmet in his hand, made him look bad, in a very good way. She shook the thought from her head, hoping he hadn’t witnessed her pterodactyl impression.
‘What are you doing here, Mike?’
‘Came to check on her. And to bollock this place about their security.’
‘She pegged out as soon as they got her into bed. Otherwise she’s fine. Told me to “walk good” as I left,’ Tiff smiled, ‘Haven’t heard that in years.’
Mike looked relieved and sat down in the adjacent seat. Tiff was aware of the closeness of their legs. Slightly rattled, she said ‘I was thinking of visiting her soon. Would that be okay?’
A soft look crossed his face.
‘She’d like that.’ He looked pleased, but then the smile fell. ‘Only some days, she might not know you. She forgets and…’
‘Mikey. It’s okay,’ she said, gently. He was getting upset having to explain. He’d always been close to his Nanna and had never made any secret of the fact he adored her, in spite of frequent ear clippings.
‘How often do you see her?’
‘Now, every couple of weeks. Used to be once a month, since she stopped coming to me a few years ago. I used to send a car for her. Made her feel like royalty.’
A couple of years. Tiff wondered whether Blackie knew. He hadn’t mentioned it to her, but then Blackie’d had his own code when it came to tact.
‘I think Blackie might have enjoyed seeing you,’ she tested. The soft look on Mikey’s face dissipated.
‘Think I’ll disagree with you there. Blackie said his piece to me years ago.’ Tiff’s confusion must have been easily read. He shook his head. ‘S’water under the bridge now, right? I reckon Blackie had his own plans, he just forgot to keep everyone consulted.’
Tiff didn’t know what he was talking about, but didn’t get to ask him before he changed the subject. ‘How’s the gym going?’
‘I thought it was going well,’ she said. Her normal PR face would have curtailed it at ‘fine’, but she was still feeling floored and it was easier to tell the truth. ‘It’s bloody scary – buying kit, booking instructors, the refurbishment – but it’s happening, and that’s bloody exciting too.’
‘But?’
‘But, I was relying on the boxing, and apparently Ron’s setting up his own club. It’ll open while I close for the refurb.’
Sitting back in the chair, Mike quickly joined the dots. ‘How many members will you lose?’
‘No idea,’ admitted Tiff, ‘I’ve only just been tipped off. I don’t know who comes out of convenience or loyalty to Ron. I’m not Blackie. They certainly don’t have any loyalty to me. I get that. All they want is a good trainer, in a decent location and venue.’
‘So you’re still in with a shot.’ She hadn’t got to thinking positively yet.
‘I suppose. They haven’t gone yet, and it’ll take time before he’s properly up and running. I’ll have to find a coach flipping fast. Unfortunately, in the interim, I’ll have to rely on the new classes to draw customers. They won’t fill immediately. Those things grow by word of mouth.’
‘You aren’t thinking of backing out, are you?’ Mike’s tone struck her as challenging. No sympathy there then. Nice.
‘No,’ Tiff said sulkily, ‘aside from being financially committed up to my eyeballs, I want to do this.’
‘There you go then.’ He laced his fingers together across his stomach. His taut stomach, Tiff noticed. How did that work – sitting without a tyre forming? He looked at her expectantly. Apparently this was fairly clear to him; she wanted to do it, so what was her problem?
‘Yeah I know, Mikey, but it’s a bit of a kick in the teeth when one of your staff is disloyal and the crux of your business plan disappears.’
‘Tiff, this is business. If things go tits-up, you revise and adjust. It was never going to be easy and it’s a steep learning curve. Plans have glitches; you find the solutions or you squidge the parameters. Everyone has to do that. People will stab you in the back. Don’t assume it, but be prepared for it. You’ve said before Ron wanted the business.’ Here was this new Mike again, considered and plain speaking.
‘Yes, but he said he was on board.’
‘People lie,’ he said brusquely, ‘To be honest you were being a bit naive thinking he was loyal.’
‘All right, Mike, no need to cushion it,’ she grumped at him. She knew this, she should have seen it coming. She didn’t need him to rub it in.
‘But look at it this way, now you can pick your own trainer, not one you’ve inherited.’
‘Sure, smart-arse, I’ll just call the job centre and ask for a boxing coach. Pretty sure it doesn’t work like that. I doubt signing on’s your next step.’
‘Or,’ Mike said, ignoring her petulance with a self-satisfied smile, ‘you could ask your smart-arse world boxing champion first-love to see who’s available.’
‘You’d do that?’ Admittedly they were on amicable terms now, but she hadn’t expected him to do her any favours.
‘Sure,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I reckon I can find time between polishing my prize belts to make some calls.’
Tiff preferred doing things herself so she didn’t owe anyone anything. However, feeling bone-tired and betrayed, she saw she was royally stuffed, which made her choice a pragmatic one.
‘That would be really useful, Mikey. Thank you.’
‘No problem. I think Blackie’s legacy demands it. From a philanthropic view, I should be bringing more people into the sport and from a humanitarian view you look like you could do with a hand.’
Help from Mike Fellner? It sent a little shiver down her. He noticed.
‘Cold? In here?’ The care-home heating was set to Stifling, presumably to accommodate the thinning skin of the clientele. Or to sedate them.
‘No, just tired,’ she lied, looking down at her trainers and sweatpants. ‘I did a Zumba class and it was knackering. Could do with a shower too. The gym showers were just finished. I might test them for quality control.’ She was babbling. He did not need to know about her showering, at the club or otherwise.
‘I guess you had a wasted trip,’ she said, getting up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
‘Nah. There’s a guest room here so I’ll see her in the morning.’ He shrugged his shoulder to indicate his backpack.
‘Right. Night then,’ she said and headed for the door.
‘So, I was thinking,’ she heard from behind her, and turned. ‘Next time I’m up, we could have dinner. Catch up, you know?’
That was unexpected.
‘Won’t Verity find that boring?’ she asked.
‘Verity doesn’t come to see Nanna. Nanna rarely remembers her and Verity says old people freak her out.’
Clearly Verity had been spawned from a tube.
‘Then won’t Verity find it strange, you having dinner with an old girlfriend?’
She expected him to look sheepish, or wolfish if he did this regularly, but instead his face was open and plain. ‘I wasn’t going to ask her permission, Tiff. Everyone’s allowed to look up old mates, aren’t they?’
She had no answer to that, being referred to as an old mate sat strangely with her, so she simply replied, ‘Give me a call when you’re up and we’ll see how my diary’s looking.’
Chapter 19
‘Bugger.’ T
he staff showers had been magnificent and she’d taken her time, swearing about Ron under the spray, before drying off, donning her PJs and heading to bed. With the space cleared and windows cleaned, the top floor wasn’t half as spooky and Tiff had moved all her possessions and matbed into the new storeroom. Crawling into bed though, and hunting around in her bag, she couldn’t find her phone. She must have left it on the office desk downstairs when she’d come in. It would be fine, she told herself; she didn’t need it. Only she did need it, for the alarm. She should race down and get it. But it was warm in the bed and dark in the corridor, and she’d probably wake up on time with the morning traffic. Most likely. Maybe. Hopefully. Argh. She rolled over, trying to sleep but the thought niggled.
So. Annoying.
‘All right!’ she snapped at herself and stomped bad-tempered from the room, heading right down to the ground floor first to double-check the door to pre-empt any further niggles. The evening had been a mess of emotions as it was, what with Ron’s epic backstabbing, and Mike helping her out. She wanted to rip his guts out and string them like bunting around the ring as fair warning to others considering crossing her. Ron’s, not Mike’s. Snake.
When they were dating, Mike had always been dependable like that; always turned up on time, always walked her home from school, went out of his way to help the junior boxers. The thought made her smile. She should have known he’d jump in to help her. Only, when it had come to the crunch, when she’d needed him most, to her shock he hadn’t been dependable after all. Remembering wiped the smile back off her face.
Climbing the stairs to the office, she tried not to dwell on it; how she’d waited for him, but he hadn’t come. She should’ve gone to see Nanna Bea, but at that point everything had gone wrong. And then Gav had stepped in. He’d been her hero, given her the support she needed, picked her up from her pool of dissolved self-confidence. (She dismissed the mental image of Gavin hitching her up and pulling her along. She was NOT a bloody cart.)
Deep in these thoughts rounding the office door, it took a moment to register the limp body in the desk chair. The scream was totally justifiable.
Sweatpants at Tiffanie's Page 14