by Matt Dunn
He'd been stupid, he realised afterwards, shelling out that kind of money for a pair of shoes to simulate walking barefoot, when for no money whatsoever he could have actually walked barefoot. And although the prospect of doing that across Clapham Common (with its ever-present spotting of dog-mess and the occasional broken beer bottle) didn't fill him with the greatest of pleasure, he'd also realised the fundamental flaw in the shoes' claims. All the videos he'd seen of the Masai on YouTube seemed to feature them jumping up and down on the spot for hours on end, and that - rather than endlessly walking around without any shoes on - was probably what kept them so thin (and made them so tall - though Calum conceded the 'height' thing might have been an optical illusion caused by the jumping). He'd stuck the trainers on eBay, hoping to get at least some of his money back, and had been surprised at the bidding war that had broken out. By the time the auction had ended, they'd sold for nearly a hundred pounds, which ironically, was what he'd had to spend on a pair of cross-trainers for the gym, but all in all, Calum wasn't too upset. There'd been no harm done, except perhaps to his pride, when he'd worn them on the bus one day and some tough-looking girls had shouted something unpleasant.
In the end, he'd had no choice but to force his fourteen stone, five-foot eight frame along to the Plaza shopping centre on Oxford Street, where he'd signed up to the Virgin Active fitness club - a strangely appropriate name given his status, Calum had thought. Initially, he'd hoped he might even find a girlfriend at the gym, but he'd been shocked on his first visit to discover the place was full of whip-thin model types who only ever gave him a second glance when he'd forgotten to wipe his sweat off the machine he'd been using, or if they perhaps thought he was about to expire on the treadmill. And besides, by the look of the Olympic-hopeful men who exercised there – or rather, hogged the weights machines while they spent ten minutes finding a particular piece of music on their phones, or pranced around the room in their vest-tops showing off their perfectly-defined pecs and occasionally examining their six-packs in the mirror – if any of the girls were on the lookout for a boyfriend, Calum would be last in the queue. If he was allowed in the queue at all.
He looked down from the television, where he'd been fascinated by some rap video that looked more like the out-takes from a porno film, checked the bike's display, and saw he was coming up to the end of his session. Two hundred calories burned - a new record, he noted proudly, wondering whether he should have that Big Mac after all. This was progress. He'd realised this morning he could see his toes when standing up (if not touch them), and his age and trouser-waist size were getting closer (though Calum had to concede that was possibly as much down to the fact that he'd just celebrated his birthday). Feeling pleased with himself, he was just about to get off and go for some light stretching when the girl from the desk appeared at his shoulder.
'Hi,' she said, breezily. 'I'm Debbie.'
Calum began to slow down, but Debbie shook her head. 'Don't stop on my account,' she said, so he reluctantly kept going.
'Calum,' he wheezed, surreptitiously reducing the resistance a couple of notches.
'I know,' she said, and Calum almost fell off his bike in surprise. Maybe he wasn't as invisible as he'd thought.
'You do?'
Debbie nodded. 'We get a thing coming up on the computer whenever someone swipes in at reception.'
'Ah.' Calum's face fell. 'Right.'
'And I noticed you hadn't had your personal training session yet.'
Debbie smiled at him, and Calum began to panic. 'Is it compulsory?'
'No. But it's complimentary.'
Calum looked down at his spare tyre, and feared if Debbie saw that, she might not be. 'What does it involve, exactly?'
'Oh, don't worry. We like to make sure everyone has one when they first join.' Debbie rested a reassuring hand on his arm. 'It's nothing too strenuous. I just ask you a few questions about your fitness goals, then design you a programme to help you reach them.'
Calum stared at her. The only thing he wanted to reach was a few inches taller – and by tonight, if possible. 'And when were you thinking we should do this?'
'Right now, if you like?' said Debbie.
'Now? But I've just...'
'Don't worry. It won't take long.'
Before Calum could respond, she'd scampered back to her desk, returning with a clipboard and pen. 'So,' she said. 'What is it you're trying to achieve?'
Calum thought for a moment. 'The usual, I suppose.'
'Which is?'
He shrugged, and a bead of sweat dripped off his glasses and onto Debbie's clipboard. 'Lose a bit of weight. Tone up. Add some muscle.'
'Well, you've come to the right place,' said Debbie, then she leant over and looked at the bike's display. 'Right, you should be nicely warmed up now. Come on.'
'Warmed up? This was all I was planning on doing,' he protested, but Debbie didn't seem to hear him.
'Follow me,' she said, heading across to where the free weights area, where the dumbbells gleamed ominously in their racks.
With a sigh, Calum climbed reluctantly off the bike, gave it a cursory wipe with his towel, and did as he was told.
Mark Webster was sitting in his office, searching the internet for 'Ten Pin Bowling tips', just in case he got the chance to pass a few on to Julie Marshall later. So far, he'd learned it was all about how you gripped the balls, or perfecting your wrist action, though Mark couldn't work out a way to communicate either of those to her without appearing rude. Although maybe he should be rude. She might like that. A bit of flirting. It would be a good way of testing the water.
He moved his chair out of the way to begin practising his swing when a knock on his door startled him, and he looked round to find Nathan grinning at him.
'I won't ask.'
'Oh, it's you.'
'Good to see you too!' said Nathan.
'Sorry. I was hoping it might be, you know, her.'
'Still nothing?'
He shook his head. 'No.'
'Maybe she's waiting till tonight to make her move.'
'Unless I've offended her.'
Nathan shook his head. 'Doubtful. After all, she'd hardly be coming this evening if she didn't want to spend any time in the same room as you.'
Mark sighed. 'I suppose not. Though I still don't know how I'm going to play it.'
'Come on, then,' said Nathan. 'You can buy me lunch and give me that pep talk you promised me, and in return, I'll help you work out a strategy for later.'
Mark looked at his watch. 'You really think that'll help?'
'Which one?' Nathan laughed. 'Maybe neither. But I'm starving. And it'll help that.'
'Fine.' Mark got up and peered out of the window at the ominously-grey sky. 'Though you're sure you don't just want to wait for the sandwich man to come round?'
'What for?'
'I've seen better days.'
'Don't be so hard on yourself.'
'I meant the weath...' Mark caught sight of Nathan's expression. 'Yes, very funny.'
'Come on.' Nathan nudged him. 'Where's your sense of humour?'
'Taking the day off. Like I'm beginning to wish I had.'
Mark grabbed his coat, and followed Nathan through reception. 'Just off to lunch,' he told Mia-Rose as he passed her desk, then he walked through the door Nathan was holding open for him. 'Where do you fancy?' he said, as they headed out of the office and along Bateman Street. 'Pret?'
'Not if you're paying,' said Nathan. 'Let's go somewhere else.'
'Spank-o-rama?'
'On Valentine's Day? I didn't know you cared.' Nathan grinned. In all the years they'd worked at Seek, neither of them had ever dared to pay the club a visit, even though it was just around the corner. 'Do they even serve food?'
Mark grimaced. 'Nothing you'd want to eat, probably.'
They made their way round the corner and down Frith Street, where Nathan spotted a table outside Bar Italia.
'How about here?'
'Out in the
street?'
'Why not?'
'It's February, for one thing.' He glanced up at the sky again. 'And it looks like it might rain.'
'They've got heaters, you big girl's blouse. And a canopy.'
'Okay.' Mark buttoned his coat up to his neck and sat down. 'But if I get a cold, and it ruins my chances tonight...'
Nathan picked a couple of menus up. 'The only cold thing you'll be getting is Julie's shoulder if you're not careful,' he said, passing one to Mark.
'I feel like I've had that already.'
Nathan gave him a look, then turned his attention to his menu. 'You can't have pissed her off. Like I said, she's still going tonight. And she knows you'll be there. That's hardly the behaviour of an angry woman.'
'Perhaps. But me following her around like a dog on heat is hardly going to make the best impression.'
Nathan smiled. 'What do you want?'
Mark rolled his eyes. 'I don't know. Just a date would be nice. To go out as a normal couple. For the two of us to get to know each other away from work. Is that too much to ask?'
'I meant, to eat.' Nathan grinned up at the waiter, who'd appeared at the table a few seconds previously. 'He's talking about a woman at work. Not, you know...' He indicated Mark and himself. 'Us.'
'Hey,' said the waiter, in heavily-accented English. 'This is Soho. We don't judge.'
Mark smiled as he scanned the menu. 'Just a panini, please. Ham and cheese. Chips on the side. And a cappuccino.' He looked up, and caught Nathan's disapproving expression. 'What?'
'Your body is a temple.'
'Pardon?'
'Of doom!' said Nathan, then he shrugged. 'What the hell,' he said, then he turned to the waiter. 'I'll have what he's having.'
The waiter smiled down at him. 'How romantic,' he said, and Nathan glared back at him.
'So,' said Mark, once the waiter had disappeared back inside the bar. 'What do you reckon?'
Nathan puffed air out of his cheeks. 'Well, again, take my advice with as much of a pinch of salt as you like, but have you thought of just asking her out for a coffee and telling her you like her?'
'Of course I have. Trouble is, what if she doesn't feel the same way?'
'Well, I'm sure she'll let you down gently. Julie's a good looking woman. She must get approached by men all the time. So she'll be used to telling them where to go!'
'Thanks, Nathan. That's a real help.' Mark shook his head. 'Though if that is the case, why isn't she going out with anyone?'
'Are you sure she's not?'
'Pretty sure.'
'How?'
'There's something I haven't told you.'
'Which is?'
'The Christmas party. She and I... Well, we shared a cab home.'
'You don't live anywhere near her!'
Mark grinned guiltily. 'What can I say?'
'You sly old dog!'
'And then, in the cab...'
'Hang on,' said Nathan. 'Do I want to hear this when I'm about to eat my lunch?'
'No, we...' Mark lowered his voice and leant across the table. 'Kissed.'
Nathan widened his eyes. 'How do you mean, 'kissed'? A peck on the cheek, or full-on tonsil-tennis?'
'The, ahem, second one. She was a little drunk. And she kind of jumped on me.'
'Well good on you.'
Mark sat back upright as the waiter set their order down on the table. 'But don't you see?' he said, warming his hands gratefully on his coffee cup. 'That makes it worse. She knows I went out of my way to be with her, and then we kissed, and she still hasn't responded. Which would suggest she's not interested.'
'Again, I'm hardly an expert here, but I'd say her leaping on you that night would suggest exactly the opposite.'
'Well, at the time, I thought so too. But since then... Nothing.'
Nathan took a bite of his panini, nodding appreciatively as he chewed. 'Why do you think that is?' he asked, through a mouthful of food.
Mark shrugged. 'Beats me. Maybe she was just drunk.'
'Yeah, but you'd still say something, wouldn't you?'
'Would you? It's a small office. She's the new girl. Maybe she was thinking of her reputation.' He regarded his lunch thoughtfully, as if choosing the best place to take the first bite from.
'Why didn't you confront her about it?'
'I did. In a roundabout way.'
'How roundabout?'
'The following morning. I asked her if she'd had a good time last night.'
Nathan almost dropped the chip he was holding. 'And what on earth was she supposed to say to that? 'Yes, I particularly enjoyed our drunken snog in the back of the taxi'?'
'Well...'
He laughed. ''Did you have a good time last night?' You have to admit, it sounds a little sleazy.'
Mark threw his hands up in the air. 'What else was I supposed to say?'
'I don't know. Maybe you should have made a joke out of it. Apologised for kissing her, or something.'
'But she kissed me.'
'And you don't think she might be a little but embarrassed about that?'
'Well, I hadn't really thought...'
Nathan rolled his eyes. 'Come on, mate. She gets a little tipsy, or she's overcome by lust, or whatever, but she goes and does something arguably unladylike in drunkenly jumping you in the back of a cab... You're a bloke. Of course you're not going to turn down the chance of a free snog. So she has no idea whether you actually like her or not, she's perhaps a little ashamed about her behaviour, and instead of putting her at her ease, or telling her you like her, all you can say is 'did you have a good time last night?' Plus maybe, if she was drunk, she doesn't remember how far you and she went.'
'Chiswick.'
Nathan downed half of his coffee in one. 'That's not what I meant.'
'Sorry,' said Mark, sheepishly. 'I hadn't thought of it like that.'
'Well maybe that's how you should start thinking about it. Because all this stuff you're doing to remind her about that night... It might be having the opposite effect.'
Mark stared at him, then he tore a corner off his panini and popped it into his mouth. 'So what should I do?' he said, once he'd finished chewing.
'Well, the way I see it, you've got two options.'
'Which are?'
'Be honest. Tell her you like her, and ask her out.'
'And risk a massive knock back, and make things awkward at work for the foreseeable future?'
'Or...' Nathan smiled. 'Put yourself in the same position as the Christmas party, and see if the same thing happens again.'
'I hardly think she'll want to play pass the balloon this evening.'
'Is that a metaphor?'
'Ha bloody ha!'
'I didn't mean you had to be so specific. Just buy her a couple of drinks - and I'd have a couple yourself, if I were you. Then later, when we're all leaving, you can just happen to offer to share a cab with her. Or jump on the tube together. Or even just walk her to the tube. Anything that gives you a little alcohol-fuelled you-and-Julie-on-the-way-home-together time. And then...'
'We'll see,' said Mark, uncertainly.
'Oh, and if you find yourself losing your nerve...'
'Yes?'
Nathan gulped down the rest of his coffee. 'Just remind yourself how horrible the last seven weeks have been.'
Mark nodded slowly. 'Good point.' He helped himself to another piece of his sandwich, then washed it down with a mouthful of cappuccino. 'So...'
'So?'
'How are you doing today?'
Nathan stared at his friend. It was a good question. 'Okay, I guess. I haven't really thought about it that much.'
'More than every five minutes?'
'It's not been that bad,' said Nathan, and the truth was, as long as he kept himself busy, it wasn't. 'It's only when I've got time on my hands, or something reminds me of Valentine's Day - like that anonymous card someone sent me - that I think about Ellie.'
'Ah yes. The card.'
'What about it?'
'What are you going to do about it?'
'Do? Well, seeing as I don't have the faintest who it's from, nothing.' He sighed. 'Besides, I'm not really that interested.'
'In whoever sent the card? Or in anyone?'
Nathan shrugged. 'Anyone, I guess. Not yet, anyway.'
'Nathan...'
'I know, I know. Maybe if someone really special came along...'
'Special? Or good looking?'
'I don't know.'
Mark finished his coffee, then nodded to the next-door table, where a couple of attractive girls were chatting animatedly, in between puffing on cigarettes. 'What about those two?'
'They're smoking.'
'You're telling me!'
'No, I mean, they're smokers. Ellie didn't smoke. And I could never go out with a smoker.'
'Well, what about her?' He pointed to a long-legged woman in a mini-skirt striding along the pavement towards them. As Nathan looked up, she caught his eye, and instinctively he looked away.
'Bit too tall.'
Mark made a long-suffering face. 'Nathan.'
'What?'
'There's something wrong with them all, isn't there?'
'No,' protested Nathan, though the truth was, there was something wrong with them all. And that thing was simply that they weren't Ellie.
Just then, Mark spotted Sophie hurrying towards the office along the opposite pavement, clutching a Selfridges bag as if it contained her life savings. 'Well, what about Sophie?'
Nathan followed his gaze. 'What about her?'
'She's attractive. Smart. And going tonight.'
'So?'
'So she's single.'
'Yeah, but...'
'But what?'
'Well, going out with someone at work, it's not really the done...' Nathan stopped talking, aware Mark was glowering at him.
'Thanks!'
'Not for you, obviously.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Can we just change the subject?'
'Of course. Once you admit that you still think Ellie's the perfect woman, so no-one else can possibly compare.'
Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 'Of course I think she's the perfect woman. Why do you think I asked her to marry me?'