‘How do you know?’ Lottie’s face was hurt.
‘I just do. Can we leave it? I don’t think there’s any point dissecting the day. We met, we had a conversation, of sorts, the ice is broken and now we can all move on.’
Lottie looked away. ‘I didn’t mean that you were like going to get back together. I’m not a child. I don’t think Dad’s going to come to his senses, get rid of the tart and we can all be one big happy family again.’ She plucked angrily at the grass. ‘I just meant that he obviously still has feelings for you.’
‘You can’t rub out twenty-odd years,’ Sara said, sorry she had been so sharp. ‘I know what you mean, darling, don’t be upset. Of course I still have feelings for him. But I know he isn’t in love with me. He’s in a new relationship, it’s obviously not just a fling, and hard as it is, we have to respect that.’
‘Respect her? Are you bonkers?’
‘Not respect,’ Sara said. ‘But accept that she isn’t going to go away and she is a part of Dad’s life. I am sure he loves her. Perhaps not in the same way that he loves you – us – but he does.’
‘She looks like a twig,’ Lottie said. ‘I can remember what she looks like. Skinny, witchy and cross.’
Sara laughed. ‘You can talk. She’s no slimmer than you.’
‘She has a beaky nose.’
‘She’s very beautiful,’ Sara said.
‘Nice clothes, I’ll give her that,’ Lottie said grudgingly.
‘I’ll make some tea,’ Sara said, standing up. ‘Do you want to come into Fowey? I feel the need to buy something reckless and extravagant.’
‘In that case,’ Lottie said smiling. ‘I’m just the girl to join you.’
‘And stretch . . .’ If I stretch any more, Sara thought, something is going to snap. This is not normal. My arms are not supposed to reach forward like this while one foot is bent under my thigh and the other is stretched away behind me, and I cannot walk my fingers forward any further because I am about to either break in two, collapse sideways, or fart, and I don’t know which would be worse.
‘Now, sit up, gently,’ said the irritatingly calm voice of the Pilates instructor. She was a rather dumpy woman, which pleased Sara, because she had thought she would be a jealousy-incurring ultra-slim goddess and all supple and bendy like a pipe cleaner.
In fact she was a sturdy little thing with fatter upper arms than Sara’s. The voice of Sting flowed caressingly out of the CD player, and Sara glanced sideways at Helen, who looked as if she was trying not to laugh. ‘I did warn you,’ she hissed. ‘I said it was harder than it looked.’
Having reassembled her outstretched legs, Sara was now sitting, cross-legged, on a spongy blue yoga mat on the wooden floor of the village hall. Natalie, the Pilates instructor, had spent the first ten minutes of the class moaning about the fact that the sound system wasn’t working yet again and fiddling about with her headset, which shrieked and yowled, forcing the class to cover their ears. Sara recognized several women – she had either bumped into them in the village shop, or met them out walking with Hector. There were a couple of definitely oversized women in straining leggings, and one game old girl who must have been well over seventy, but who was as trim and wiry as a little bird. Helen had told her she had been doing Pilates for a year now, and it had made such a difference to her flexibility as well as toning her muscles. ‘It won’t make you slim,’ she warned, ‘but it will make you feel stronger.’ Sara didn’t know if this was a direct criticism of her weight, but didn’t really care. She was never going to be skinny, but it would be good to try to reduce some of the cellulite at the tops of her thighs, get rid of the spare tyre around her middle and that dratted floppy skin under her upper arms. She had no intention of becoming obsessed with the way she looked, like Catherine, but she did think it would boost her confidence to be able to wear jeans and summer skirts without having a roll of flab hanging over the top of the waistband. She would have more energy, too. Mens sana in corpora sano, she thought. A new mantra for the new me.
‘Now, slowly, stand up,’ said Natalie, her lips pursed in concentration. ‘You are becoming a tree. Lift your leg and place the sole of your foot against your thigh, if you can reach so high, knee for those of you new to the class,’ she added, looking patronisingly at Sara, ‘and now reach up, up, into the sky, lift your gaze towards the sun.’ Immediately, Sara started to wobble, and her tree became a shrub and then she fell over. Helen snorted with laughter, but then she could, couldn’t she, because she was being a beautiful, tall tree without a wobble in sight.
‘Now take your woo-chi ball . . .’
‘What’s a woo-chi ball?’ Sara whispered.
‘Shhh,’ hissed Helen. ‘Concentrate.’
Sara tried to copy the others, placing her hands either side of the metaphysical ball, and moving it about in front of her. She kept getting behind the others, waving her non-existent woo-chi ball above her head when they were swooping it down to the earth. This is like trying to rub your head and pat your stomach at the same time, she thought crossly.
‘Sun Salutations next,’ said Natalie, and obediently, everyone but Sara turned towards the middle of the room and raised their arms, outstretched, above their heads, before suddenly swooping down in a swan dive to rest their palms flat against the floor. Sara bent over, but there was no way her hands could reach so low down. The most she could do was wave them vaguely about at calf-height. She looked over at Helen, feeling absurdly envious. This is childish, she thought. No wonder Helen looked so trim, if she was doing this kind of palaver twice a week. Sara made a concerted effort to touch her fingertips against the floor, but her stomach seemed to get in the way and the back of her thighs shrieked in agony. She was worried she was going to get cramp, and then she realized that the rest of them were no longer bent over like paperclips, but were making an upside-down ‘V’ shape on their mats, palms flat, balancing on their tiptoes, bottoms in the air.
‘Down Dog,’ Natalie intoned. ‘And then – slowly – forwards into the plank . . .’ Now this really did hurt, Sara thought, trying to hold up her entire body weight on her outstretched arms. ‘Sink into the crocodile,’ floated Natalie’s voice. Slowly, Sara levered herself down to try to hover just above the ground as the other women were doing with their elbows bent close to their bodies like grasshoppers, but she couldn’t support herself, and flopped on to her front. She wondered if there was a Pilates position called Beached Whale, because she could do this, no problem.
In seconds, Natalie was beside her, her voice full of sympathetic concern. ‘You mustn’t do too much on your first lesson,’ she said quietly, but not quietly enough for the rest of the class not to be able to overhear. ‘When you’re rather out of shape, it will take time. Just take it slowly – I promise,’ she lowered her voice, ‘it will come. You can’t force it. The body will give when it wants to give.’ Sara gritted her teeth. Out of shape, eh? What did she think she was, then? Shaped like a weeble?
The class ended with a long stretch lying flat out on the mat, eyes closed. ‘Let the body and mind relax,’ droned Natalie. ‘Fill your mind with happy thoughts, and just drift away . . . you are lying on a bed of flowers . . . the sun is high . . . every muscle in your body is floating . . . let your karma relax . . .’ Sara opened one eye and saw Helen had her eyes open too. Helen raised her eyes to heaven, and Sara had to stop herself giggling.
‘What did you think?’ Helen asked, as they emerged, blinking, into the sunshine.
‘God, she’d drive me round the bend if I had to listen to that more than twice a week,’ Sara said. ‘Let your body float away . . . you are lying on a bed of hot air listening to a load of shite from an overweight midget . . .’
‘Shush,’ Helen said, snorting and nudging her. ‘She’s just behind you.’
They both turned and smiled at Natalie. ‘Thank you so much,’ Sara said, hastily straightening her face. ‘Goodbye. It was, what can I say? Truly enlightening.’
Natalie regarde
d them beadily, before turning to stow her sports bag into the boot of a blue sports car, and departing in a swirl of gravel.
‘Do you think she heard?’ Sara asked, worried. She really didn’t want to be unkind.
‘I’m not sure. Do you fancy a coffee?’ Helen said. ‘I can’t face going back home to work, it’s far too sunny. I’ve got loads of stuff to do but what I really want to do is flop about. Come on. Have you ever been to Holly Murphy’s?’
‘No,’ Sara said. ‘What is it?’
‘A café in Fowey. The coffee’s great and they do the most amazing paninis.’
‘Doesn’t that rather negate the effect of the Pilates?’ Sara said, primly.
‘Absolutely not,’ Helen said firmly. ‘The point about exercising properly is that you can then eat whatever you want, within reason. I never diet.’
Sara looked at her slim, strong figure. ‘You’re lucky,’ she said, glumly. ‘I think it must be genetic. I only have to look at a baguette to put on weight.’
‘Didn’t you exercise before?’
‘I should have done, I suppose, but there never seemed to be the time, and, besides, Matt never complained I was putting on weight.’
‘But exercise is about feeling happy too,’ Helen pointed out, climbing into her car. ‘It makes you feel more positive and optimistic.’
‘True. I could do with that. Things are still – a bit, well, tricky, sometimes.’
‘How did the meeting with Matt go?’
Sara turned away from her, pulling the passenger door shut.
‘It was fine,’ she said slowly. ‘Well, no, it wasn’t, it was pretty grim really and both the girls ended up getting upset. There were all these subconscious emotions seething around, most of which went right over Matt’s head. Men aren’t very good at noticing things, are they? And nothing was his fault, as usual, despite the fact that he was the one who brought all this about by rushing off with a toddler.’
Helen barked with laughter. ‘What happened?’
Sara paused, thinking. ‘Well, it was so hard seeing Emily. She resents me deeply for leaving and I’m not sure she can ever forgive me for that. But then she’s very unhappy seeing Matt with his new girlfriend. You know – it is such a mess. She’s twenty-three but she’s still a child at heart, trying to be very grown-up and understanding about the whole thing, whereas I think she’s actually far more screwed up about the break-up than Lottie. It sounds awful but I think Emily would be better living with me – I bet Matt never talks to her about the situation and I think she needs to talk. I know she and Lottie chat a lot on the phone, but I worry I’m losing touch with her . . .’
‘And Matt?’
Sara turned her head away from Helen to glance out of the window. Then she looked back at her friend and shrugged. ‘I’m not even sure I can begin to explain.’
‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’
‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘Well, we started off OK and then it got very prickly, and he really got my goat by telling me I never had to live in the real world.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Precisely. Hardly justification for buggering off, is it? And it was all so confusing – one minute he was telling me off and being bossy about money, the next he was stroking my face telling me how much he missed me and how dreadful he felt.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Mmm.’
‘And how did you feel about that?’
Sara sighed. ‘Manipulated, mostly, as if he wanted me . . . as if he wanted me to be still in love with him.’
‘Bastard.’
‘There is that. And the awful thing is that even though we had a couple of stormings off and then we found Lottie really upset outside the restaurant, which was very traumatic – there was a teeny bit of me which was thinking, “maybe”, and “what if . . .”’
‘So what happened?’
‘Oh, it was marvellous. I was skipping about thinking maybe he does love me and I’m not so repulsive after all and he’d said how great I was looking and then . . .’ She stopped.
‘What?’
‘I saw him snogging the teenager out the window. He thought I’d gone. Honestly, Helen, it was pretty off-putting, he was eating her face off in the street.’
Helen laughed so hard she bent over the steering wheel. ‘What a prick!’ she howled.
‘I know. Grim, isn’t it? Like I’m so trendy and cool I kiss my girlfriend in public. Look at me with this beautiful young woman.’
‘I can’t wait to meet this guy.’
‘That will not be for some time yet,’ Sara said levelly. ‘I am currently at the stage of wanting to punch his lights out. How dare he give me all the “you-look-so-great-I-have-made-such-a-mistake” and then whip off five minutes later and stick his tongue down her throat?’
‘I’m so glad you are seeing this without rose-tinted glasses.’
‘Oh-ho, yes. I see right through that man. How did I ever trust him?’
‘Because you loved him?’
‘Sadly, you are quite right. But I don’t anymore.’
‘Definitely?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Chin up,’ Helen said, negotiating the Land Rover onto the ferry. ‘She’ll probably want babies.’
‘He’s had the snip,’ Sara said.
‘It can always be reversed. Can you imagine dealing with babies now?’
‘God, no. Grandchildren, yes, but you can hand them back.’
‘Exactly. Let’s hope he has to start all over again with howling infants, shall we?’
They grinned at each other.
The conversation had not started well. Sara had been in the middle of mopping the floor, and snatched up the phone, irritated at having been interrupted when she had finally got around to a job she had been putting off for days.
‘Yes?’ she said, ungraciously.
‘Chill, Mother,’ Emily said. ‘It’s me.’
‘I’m sorry, darling, I was just in the middle of something.’
‘I’ll call back if you’re so busy.’
‘No!’ Sara said, quickly. ‘It was nothing, only boring housework. How are you?’
‘Fine,’ Emily said guardedly.
‘It was lovely to see you.’
‘Yeah. Ish. Not a howling success, was it?’
‘We had to all meet up some time, I suppose. How’s work?’
‘OK.’
‘Just OK?’
‘No, I like it. It’s just – different – to how I imagined.’
‘Different in what way?’
‘They expect me to know stuff without telling me how to do it, and some of it is really technical.’
‘Well, it is radio,’ Sara said reasonably.
‘I thought there’d be more real journalism and less fiddling about with tape recorders.’
‘It’s all digital now, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. And that’s really hard, we edit our stuff on screen and it took me ages to get the hang of it.’
‘But didn’t you do that at university?’
‘Yeah, but we used a different form of software. I have to work so quickly, too, the deadlines for turning copy round are really tight.’
‘But is it fun?’
‘Bits of it are fun, I suppose,’ she said dispiritedly.
There was a long pause. ‘How’s the flat?’
‘Dad’s new one?’
‘No, yours.’
‘Oh, that. It’s OK. I can’t wait to move out. Dad said he’d help me find somewhere to buy.’
‘But how will you pay the mortgage?’
‘I’ll manage,’ Emily said testily. ‘Dad said he’d pay anyway, didn’t he?’
When are you going to grow up and stand on your own two feet? Sara thought, but said nothing. It was a novelty for Emily to actually ring her. Normally Sara had to be the one who phoned and then Emily was always in a hurry to dash off.
‘What’s the weather like in Cornwall?’
‘Sunn
y. We had a thunderstorm yesterday, but it’s cleared up now. What’s it like in London?’
‘Boiling. I can’t wait until Mauritius and I can lie on the beach and sunbathe, rather than have to work in all this heat.’
‘Mauritius?’
‘Didn’t I tell you? Dad’s taking me on holiday in August.’
‘Just the two of you?’
There was a long pause. Then Emily said quietly, ‘No. Unfortunately.’
‘Ah.’
‘She’s such a . . .’
Sara cut her off. ‘Darling, I don’t know if it is any of my business, really. I don’t particularly want to discuss your father’s relationship.’
‘You don’t know what she’s doing to Dad!’ Emily’s voice rose suddenly.
Sara stared at the phone. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. I can’t. I don’t . . .’ Her voice tailed off, and Sara realized she was crying.
‘Darling, what on earth is the matter? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Dad?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not absolutely sure if . . . It’s very hard to know definitely . . .’
‘What? Please, Emily, tell me.’
‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘This isn’t fair. You can’t get me all worried and then not tell me what it is, exactly, which is worrying you so much about him.’
‘Everything’s changed, Mum, you’ve no idea. Dad’s quite different. Without you he’s . . .’
‘He’s bound to be different,’ Sara said, as calmly as she could. ‘I don’t think that is such a cause for concern.’
‘You’re so bloody naïve, Mum,’ Emily said unexpectedly. ‘You really have no idea, do you?’
‘And how do you expect me to know, if you won’t tell me?’
‘I’m scared,’ Emily said.
‘Why? What about?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It isn’t worth it. Forget I said anything. There’s nothing you can do, anyway.’
‘You’re probably right, not that I have the faintest clue what you’re talking about. Come and stay, darling, and then we can have a proper chat, face to face. It isn’t the same on the phone. Besides, I want to show you the cottage. You’ll love it here, it’s really relaxing. We can walk, and sunbathe, go shopping, eat out – there are lots of lovely places to eat.’
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