By the end of the evening, I knew the best shop in town to buy workout gear, the best food to eat for optimum energy (chocolate with nuts in it didn’t make the grade, apparently) and I’d committed to training for a half-marathon.
Afterwards, he took me back to his lovely, modern apartment in Pottersdale and kissed me until my head spun. Then he pulled away, panting, and said he’d better call me a taxi.
Completely thrown, I thought I’d stumbled across a new breed of men who saved themselves for marriage. Then he explained that he was running a marathon next day and needed all his energy for that.
He looked so regretful when he was waving me off, I totally forgave him. In fact, it made me admire him even more. He was so very focused on his new career. Not treading water, like me, in an office job I didn’t particularly enjoy.
Next day, he made up for his abstinence.
I went round after the marathon and cooked for him while he soaked his aching muscles in the bath. And we ended the night by enjoying a marathon of a very different kind.
After that, we spent loads of time together and it wasn’t like my other relationships at all. It was so much more active. We’d go out hiking in the hills all day Saturday then run and swim on a Sunday. I’d get back to my own flat, aching in every single muscle, but it felt good. I’d never been so fit in my life. My skin positively glowed with good health.
Barb wasn’t as enthusiastic about Nathan and my new health regime as I would have liked. But I figured it was probably because she missed our Saturday nights in, lounging around the flat eating nachos and watching bad horror movies.
Chapter Four
It’s the morning after the climbing wall humiliation.
I’m sitting with Nathan at his cherry wood breakfast bar, virtuously ploughing through a bowl of home-made muesli, vaguely aware of him talking about some run or other.
But I’m tired and my back’s aching from sitting bolt upright.
The stools we’re perched on are an accident waiting to happen.
They’re cutting-edge stylish with a shallow back that deceives you into thinking they’re proper chairs. (Lean backwards at your own risk – and never when you’ve had a drink or two.)
To be honest, I’m practically falling asleep in my cereal.
It didn’t make for a particularly restful night, thinking about Christmas and wondering how the bloody hell I’ll squeeze everyone in.
I’m suddenly aware Nathan’s just asked me a question, something about a great big run.
‘Sorry? Miles away. A great big run?’
He grins. ‘No. The Great Brig Run. It’s just a 10k round Elmthwaite Lake. Fancy doing it?’
‘Maybe.’ If I sound a bit vague, it’s because my head’s somehow full of cushion wadding.
‘It’s fine if you don’t.’ He peers at me. ‘Is something wrong? You seem a bit distracted.’
I heave a sigh and tell him about my rash promise to host Christmas.
‘So what’s the problem?’ he asks. ‘Don’t you want to see your family at Christmas?’
I’ve just loaded in a spoonful of wood chippings, so he has to be patient while I chew for twenty minutes.
‘Yes, I do. But my flat’s so small.’
‘So spend Christmas here. I’ll be away, visiting the Aged Ps. You and the troops can have the run of the place.’
He springs up, kisses me on the cheek and heads for the door.
I stare after him.
The first thing that registers is that I won’t be spending Christmas with Nathan. I suppose I’d vaguely imagined him joining us for Christmas lunch. But of course he’ll be wanting to see his own family.
Then it sinks in what he’s just offered.
‘Hang on.’ I dismount the stool so speedily, I nearly fall off. ‘Did you say I can invite them to stay here? Even my sister-in-law?’
‘Especially your sister-in-law.’
With a cheery wink, he’s gone.
I can’t believe it.
A huge weight has just rolled off my shoulders.
I wander round Nathan’s apartment, planning where everyone will sleep; imagining the vast oak table in the dining room all decked out for Christmas lunch; thinking of the great festive movies we can watch – all the old favourites that Mum adores – on Nathan’s hi-tech projector system (I’ll need to take copious notes on how it works).
I know it’s shallow of me but I can’t help imagining my sister-in-law’s face when she sees the wet room with its waterfall shower and sunken bath. Honestly, she’ll be green!
It’s just a shame Nathan won’t be here to meet them all.
He must have sensed my disappointment at this because a few nights later, when I arrive at his apartment after working late, he welcomes me with a long, lingering kiss and says he’s going to take me somewhere really special for New Year. Then he slips my coat off my shoulders and ushers me through to the bathroom.
The gorgeous, free-standing bath is steaming gently, full of my favourite scented bubbles, and candles glow at the foot of the tub and along the adjacent window ledge. The candles are vanilla-scented and tend to make me feel nauseous. Nathan’s obviously forgotten this but it really doesn’t matter. I feel so cosseted and cared for. And with the lights off, the room looks magical.
‘Enjoy.’ Nathan smiles. ‘Dinner in half an hour.’
Later, when I’m wallowing luxuriously and thinking I haven’t felt this happy in forever, Nathan comes in and offers to scrub my back. Then he sits on the edge of the bath and starts chatting about Kelly, who he works with, and telling me a funny story about something that happened at the supermarket that day.
To be honest, I’m so blissed out, I’m barely listening. I’m just watching his mouth as he speaks, lazily admiring the way, every now and then, his lips quirk up with amusement at one corner.
Apparently the Tannoy system, which he’s told me before is ancient and due to be replaced, is on the blink and everyone in the store accidentally overheard a conversation he was having in the office with Kelly.
‘God, it was hilarious,’ he laughs. ‘She’s enormous, as you know. Must be twenty stone. At least. More blubber than a great white whale.’
I tune in at that point. He’s mentioned Kelly before and I feel for her. It’s obvious she struggles with her weight.
‘So anyway, I asked her how her slimming club weigh-in went and she said she’d lost a total of twenty-seven pounds. So I laughed and said, “Christ, that was careless. But did you lose any weight?” And she went bright red, got all defensive and actually told me to fuck off.’
My smile freezes and I find myself thinking, Good for you, Kelly!
Nathan can be really lovely. But I hate that he’s so intolerant of people who aren’t quite as fit as he is.
‘So anyway,’ he’s saying, ‘the bloody Tannoy system was stuck in the “on” position the whole time. So the entire store heard Kelly telling me to fuck off. Hilarious!’
‘But not quite so funny for poor Kelly,’ I point out.
He laughs. ‘Rubbish. She’s man enough to take it. I’m convinced she shops at Hugo Boss for her plus-sized suits.’
Over the next few weeks, I let the running slide and Nathan doesn’t seem to mind.
He’s training for an Iron Man Challenge, which I wouldn’t have been attempting anyway. So it works out well.
The fact that he’ll be away for the whole weekend, competing in the Challenge, gives me a chance to spend some time at my own place, just chilling with Barb. I’m really looking forward to it.
When that Friday night rolls around, Barb’s exhausted after a hard week at work so we decide to have a night just kicking back, watching TV and catching up.
Barb’s real name is Dolly but she always hated it. When she was fifteen, she changed her name to Barb, telling her classmates it was short for Barbie Dolly. They all thought this was spectacularly witty and instantly obliged.
Dolly is far too prissy a name for her, she says,
and I’m inclined to agree.
Calling her ‘Dolly’ would be like naming a mythical warrior Kevin.
Barb is financial controller at Premier Furnishings, where I work. The job comes with long hours and a great deal of responsibility but Barb is one of those people who seems to thrive on stress.
We got talking one lunch-time, soon after I started the job.
Since I didn’t really know anyone, I’d started walking to the nearby shops on my own at lunchtime and picking up a chocolate energy-boost. Just for something to do, really.
So this lunchtime I was coming out of the newsagent’s with my Mars Bar as Barb was going in. We walked back together and I happened to mention it was possible to eat a whole Mars Bar in exactly the amount of time it took me to walk back to the office. I’d done extensive research on the matter.
Barb looked at me like I’d sprouted an ear on my forehead.
I grinned at her, warming to my theme. ‘Twix is no use. Far too much chewing involved. Takes forever. And don’t get me started on Curly Wurlys.’
‘Ch-er-rist,’ said Barb. ‘You don’t get out much, do you?’
We’ve been great friends ever since.
Barb has a sharp tongue, an even sharper intellect and lots of brown hair that she hennas a glossy raven black. With her pale complexion, predominantly black wardrobe and slash of scarlet lipstick, she looks like a minxy, modern-day witch.
She has a great way of cutting right through the crap with biting one-liners but she’s only scary with people she dislikes. Once you’re her friend, you’ve got a mate for life and she’s the most loyal and generous person I’ve ever known.
I know for a fact Barb thinks Nathan’s the wrong man for me.
She hasn’t said as much. But she doesn’t have to. I can tell by the cagey questions she asks.
She watches me make an egg-white omelette (carefully separating the yolks out first). Then she says, ‘Why does Nathan wrap his veggie burgers in lettuce instead of buns?’
She enquires casually, as if she’s really not that interested, but I have a nasty feeling she’s about to start lecturing me on her Frontal Lobe Theory.
I laugh, hoping to distract her. ‘Ooh, call the police! Because he’s obviously a psychopath. A very healthy one, mind you.’
‘Hannibal Lecter was a bit of a gourmet.’
‘What?’
‘And that slime he makes you drink …’ She mimes throwing up.
‘It’s not slime, it’s vitamins. And he doesn’t make me drink it!’ I plonk my plate on the table. ‘Honestly, Barb, it’s not a crime to be healthy. An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Didn’t you know?’
‘An apple a day can keep anyone away,’ she says darkly. ‘If you throw it hard enough.’
As a rule, Barb’s a really good judge of character. So her aversion to Nathan is a little bit worrying. But then, she doesn’t know him like I do.
Plus I think she might be a little bit jealous of our relationship. It’s eight months since she split with Frank and she hasn’t been on any dates since.
She’s also clearly spent far too much time analysing their relationship and trying to work out why it failed.
The result is her Frontal Lobe Theory.
‘Frontal lobes,’ she’ll say with a confident wink and a double-tap of her forehead. ‘For a lasting relationship, never trust the heart. It’s logic that counts.’
I can’t help thinking it’s all just a reaction to the tempestuous nature of her relationship with Frank, but I just humour her. I mean, it’s not as if I’m a great expert on relationships.
It was apparently lust at first sight for Barb and Frank. They were in and out of love more times than a cuckoo on a malfunctioning clock. So I suppose it’s understandable she might want to try a different approach next time.
I personally feel that for tediousness, her Frontal Lobe Theory is right up there with being stuck at home all day waiting for a fridge to be delivered.
Later, during the Corrie adverts, I bring up the subject of promotion and instantly, Barb says, ‘Fab. Go for it. I’ve always thought you were wasting your talents.’
‘Really?’
‘Er, ye-es!’ She gives me a look that says, Do you really need me to answer that?
Over the weekend, I keep thinking about it and, by Sunday night, I’ve come to a decision.
Tomorrow morning, at work, I’m going to talk to Marla and tell her I’m seriously interested in applying for the job of office manager.
Chapter Five
I wake up on Monday morning, all jittery and excited at the thought of talking to my boss about the promotion.
It sounds weird, but I feel a little bit guilty having made such a big life decision without talking to Nathan about it. Not that he won’t be supportive because I know he will be. I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He did brilliantly in the Iron Man Challenge and I can’t wait to see him tonight.
And actually, now that there’s no pressure on me, I’ve realised I’m even missing my regular runs with him. So I’ve come to another decision this weekend. I’m going to sign up for the Great Brig Run. Nathan and I can train together. He’ll be really chuffed.
I arrive at work, feeling sick with nerves.
I’m just about to pick up the phone to ask Marla if I can have a word, when it rings. It’s actually Marla’s secretary asking if I can pop in and see her.
Happily, I close my spreadsheet and head upstairs. I’m not sure what she wants to talk to me about but it certainly seems fortuitous. Like it’s meant to be.
I sit on a chair outside her office, taking deep breaths, and Marla’s secretary, Angie, peers at me over her glasses when she thinks I’m not looking, then whips back to her computer screen when I turn in her direction.
The breath flutters in my throat. Angie probably knows Marla would like me to fill Sandra’s shoes. But obviously she can’t say anything.
My insides start whirling about like a clothes dryer on a windy day.
Oh my God.
It’s really happening.
I’ve been in a bad place for a long time, weighed down by such a heavy burden of guilt, thinking I didn’t deserve to be happy.
But just recently, I’ve started to feel that my life is changing and maybe – just maybe – it’s time to leave the past behind me.
Everything feels lighter and full of hope.
I’m in a loving, supportive relationship. And I’ve finally begun to believe I might actually deserve this promotion.
Plus, of course, the headache of Christmas is all sorted, thanks to lovely Nathan giving us the run of his flat.
A warm feeling spreads through me.
Everything’s going to be all right.
Marla calls me in and motions for me to sit down.
‘Great minds think alike,’ I say cheerfully.
She’s sifting through a file on her desk, her lips compressed as if she’s lost something.
She looks up in confusion. ‘Sorry?’
I smile. ‘Well, I was about to make an appointment to come and chat with you, actually. About Sandra’s job?’
‘Oh.’ She links her hands in front of her on the desk and stares down at them.
Her reaction is not what I was expecting. Maybe they’ve already found someone to fill Sandra’s post.
I’m surprised by how disappointed this makes me feel.
But something else is sure to come up …
Marla taps the table with her nail, still not looking at me, and my insides shift uneasily. Why has she called me in here?
At last, she takes a big breath and looks up.
‘Lola, I’ve got some bad news.’
I hold my breath, not liking the sad way she’s looking at me.
Picking up the file in front of her, she grimaces and tosses it to one side. ‘God, I hate this part of the job.’ She pushes her hands through her hair and looks straight at me. ‘The fact is, Lola, the company is in dire straits. They’re demanding cut
backs. And that means…redundancies.’
I freeze at the word.
‘You’re an excellent employee, Lola. And you’ll be getting a first class reference from me. But I’m afraid … well, you know what the company policy is on redundancies: last in, first out. I’m so sorry—’
Her words sink slowly into my fuzzy brain, like rocks in quicksand, and I feel the colour draining from my face.
She continues talking and I’m looking at her mouth but my mind has already detached itself, whirling off into space.
I’d really started to believe things were coming together. I’d been all fired up. All set to grab the opportunity with both hands.
But not only is there no exciting promotion for me.
I don’t even have a job…
Two hours later, I’m sitting on a bench staring out over Elmthwaite Lake.
The flat, grey clouds are reflected in the water, and I dig my hands deeper into my coat pockets. My bag, next to me on the bench, is stuffed to bursting with all my personal stuff from work.
It’s a freezing cold day in late October, but the brisk three-mile walk to the lake from Pottersdale has warmed me up.
I feel oddly detached from reality. Hardly able to believe what just happened.
In fact, I’m half-expecting Marla to suddenly pop up from behind a bush, point at me and yell, ‘Ha! Fooled you!’
I’d no idea the company was considering staff cuts.
Barb obviously didn’t know either, or she would never have encouraged me to try for promotion.
A biting wind rustles through the trees, along the valley.
So much for my brand new future.
Thinking of the hopes I’d nurtured, I almost feel like laughing, although it’s far from funny.
I stare across the lake at the hills in the distance.
I’ve come here, to this lake-side park – to this very bench, in fact – all my life. Mum used to drive us here when we were young because we loved the play area.
The playground is still there, nestled in a clearing amongst the trees to my left, a short walk alongside the lake. In my day, it was just your normal swings and teapot lid. But they’ve recently refurbished it and added one of those zip wires that all the kids love. At weekends in summer, the squeals and laughter of them whizzing along can be heard for miles.
Mistletoe and Mayhem Page 4