Dancing Over the Hill

by Cathy Hopkins

  She leant forward and looked at us earnestly. ‘I’m very happy you’ve made the brave decision to come and take a step towards greater closeness. Well done. Before we start, have you any questions?’

  Where’s the way out? I thought, as Lucinda continued to smile at us.

  Matt cleared his throat. ‘I have a question. Could you tell us a bit about your methods?’

  Lucinda nodded. ‘I take my lead from my clients in the first session to try and feel out what the best approach is, then I use a variety of methods, some hypnotherapy, some visualization, some goal-setting.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘So what do you feel might be a good approach?’

  Lucinda leant over, clasped both my hands, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A minute later, she did the same to Matt. He looked over at me and crossed his eyes and I had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing. Lucinda sat back, closed her eyes again and began to sway a little. I glanced over at Matt. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

  After a short time, Lucinda opened her eyes. ‘OK, I think I’m getting a feeling for what’s going on here.’

  ‘You are? Really?’ Matt asked.

  Lucinda nodded. ‘Yes. I sense discord. I sense an absence.’ She looked sad at this.

  Well, that much is true, I thought. ‘So what do you suggest?’

  ‘Love,’ said Lucinda. ‘If you’re to get anywhere, you have to learn to love yourselves; only then can you love others.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ said Matt. ‘And how do you propose we do that?’

  ‘You could start by acknowledging your best points individually then as a couple. Remember your best times together and try and acknowledge the positive. Today is just a get-to-know-you session, but what I would urge you to do is to write down five good things about your day every evening before you go to bed. You’d be surprised how much better you’ll feel by the end of the week.’

  ‘Good things?’ I asked. ‘Like something we’ve enjoyed? Or do you mean something good about ourselves?

  Lucinda looked confused for a moment. ‘Er … both,’ she said. ‘The two are sometimes inseparable. If you feel good, you tend to be more loving and also attract more love.’

  ‘That sounds like a tremendous idea,’ said Matt. ‘But first, Lucinda, a bit about you? This is a get-to-know-you session for us too. How long have you been practising?’

  ‘Oh, about four weeks.’

  ‘Have you had many clients?’ Matt persisted.

  ‘I’ve just started and a few friends have let me practise with them, but you’re my first real clients.’

  Ah, so that’s why I got an appointment so easily, I thought.

  ‘And when did you finish your training?’ Matt continued.

  ‘About this time last year, but I took a break to go travelling before I settled into work.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Matt. ‘Like a gap year?’ Lucinda nodded. ‘Good for you. And was it hard to find a job?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Lucinda. ‘My aunt owns the clinic here so let me have the room.’

  ‘Ah, your aunt,’ said Matt. ‘That’s marvellous.’

  ‘And are you married?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ said Lucinda. ‘But I did eight case histories of people who are when I was on my course.’

  ‘Eight?’ said Matt. ‘And what did you learn?’

  ‘About how important communication is,’ said Lucinda.

  Matt continued to grill her and ask how she felt about what she’d learnt. She didn’t seem to get that he’d turned the tables. She was a sweet kid with her heart in the right place, but no way was I going to open up to her about my relationship with Matt. The session was a waste of our time and we burst out of there forty minutes later like two teenagers bunking off school.

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said when we were on our way home.

  ‘No need,’ Matt replied. ‘You weren’t to know. So, five things you feel good about?’

  ‘One, we’re out of there. Two, we’re on our way home, er …’

  ‘Three, in a peculiar way, it was bonding because we both totally agreed that she wasn’t the one,’ said Matt. ‘Four we’re still speaking after our first session and five … er … it gave me a good laugh.’

  *

  I got home to find an email from Lorna.

  From: Lornaalp@org.com

  To: Cait@grmail.com

  How’s the ‘revive your marriage challenge’? Any progress?

  Any word from Tom?

  LX

  *

  From: Cait@grmail.com

  To: Lornaalp@org.com

  Had our first counselling session. Therapist was a child so no progress really, though Matt is behaving very strangely. Disappearing out for walks, says he’s going to join the gym, do t’ai chi, go on a diet.

  Jed plus boyfriend is back. Dad’s moved in with us.

  Tom sent photos of his house and studio in Majorca and invite to spend a couple of days out there.

  CX

  *

  From: Lornaalp@org.com

  To: Cait@grmail.com

  Good for Matt. Sounds like progress to me. Men work in mysterious ways but sounds like he is changing or attempting to. Re. Tom. So, he’s got a fancy house? So what? You could go and stay somewhere fabulous with Matt as part of your save-your-marriage challenge.

  Lorna. Killjoy and the voice of reason. Sorry.

  X

  *

  From: Debs23@g.org.com

  To: Cait@grmail.com, Lornaalp@org.com

  Thought you might like to know how my last date went last week. Sorry, long email but you’ve both been out all day and not picking up your phone messages and I need to write to GET IT OUT of my system.

  Met Colin the Courgette King for lunch in the farm shop out at Winsley.

  Glorious day, good mood, tra-la-la. I arrived ten mins late so not to appear too keen. Dressed in jeans and red silk top, hair loose – I know you like a visual.

  Colin was already there. He stood up as I reached the table. Un point for good manners, I thought as I sat down, but I could tell in an instant that he wasn’t my type. He had the look of a weasel plus he was shorter than he’d said in his profile. Being five foot nine, I like a man to be at least my height, if not taller. Ah well, best get on and get it over with, I thought.

  This is how it went.

  ‘Hello, Colin, I’m Debs.’

  ‘Well hello, Debs. How are you today?’ he said and ogled my cleavage.

  ‘Good thanks. Er … shall we get a drink?’

  ‘Good idea, I like your style,’ he said, and summoned the waitress. ‘In fact, let’s get a bottle, start as we mean to continue.’

  After ordering drinks, we sat in silence for a few moments.

  ‘So, tell me all about your vegetables,’ I said in an effort to get the conversation going. For ten minutes, I was subjected to my own personal talk on soil preparation, the right kind of compost and importance of mulching. Fascinating.

  ‘May I say how lovely you’re looking today, Debs, though not what I was expecting.’

  ‘Who or what were you expecting?’

  ‘I don’t know, but not someone like you.’

  ‘In a good or a bad way?’

  ‘Oh good, you’re hot.’

  And you’re not, I thought as I looked around and wondered how long I would have to continue before I could escape.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? How long have you been single?’ I asked.

  ‘Few months.’

  ‘Had many dates?’

  ‘Oh lots.’

  ‘Not worked out then?’

  ‘I think I must have been waiting for you. So, tell me about yourself.’

  ‘I’m recently separated. I live in Bath, run a health centre offering alternative therapies—’

  ‘Alternative to what?’

  ‘Homeopathy, aromatherapy, reflexology, massage—’

  Colin’s eyes lit up at the word ‘massage’. ‘I ca
n see we’re going to really get on.’

  ‘What star sign are you, Colin?’

  ‘Star sign. What’s that then?’

  ‘Astrology. When’s your birthday?’

  ‘January the fifth. Don’t tell me you believe that crap they put in the magazines.’

  ‘It’s not all crap. If astrology is done properly, it’s very precise.’

  ‘If you say so. Load of baloney as far as I’m concerned.’

  Well, this is going well, I thought.

  ‘So what’s Debs short for?’

  ‘Penelope.’

  ‘Penelope?’

  ‘No, I was joking. It’s short for Deborah. So what are you looking for in a partner?’

  ‘Er … someone fit, to have a bit of fun with, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘I’m beginning to.’

  A waiter came over to take our orders, but I didn’t want to delay the agony by having lunch. ‘Just the glass of wine for me, thanks. I’m not that hungry.’

  ‘You not eating? Dieting eh? Good for you, girl. I like a girl who doesn’t give in to getting fat. So yes, let’s not waste time on lunch … what are you doing afterwards?’

  ‘I have to go back to work.’

  Colin got out a key and held it up. ‘Sure you can’t bunk off for a few hours? I’ve got a room booked just down the road. I like to be prepared. You look like a girl who might be open to an adventure.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘You’re very sure of yourself.’

  ‘Have to seize the day at our age.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I said. I wonder if there’s a window in the bathroom, I could escape through?

  ‘I got you a present,’ said Colin, and handed me a carrier bag.

  I took a peek inside. Stockings and suspenders.

  ‘And what am I supposed to do with those?’

  Colin winked. “Wear them. For me.’

  ‘Er … would you excuse me for a moment?’

  ‘Little girl’s room?’

  I nodded. He flicked a finger at me as I got up. ‘Missing you already. Are you going to put on the stockings?’

  He can’t be real, I thought as I made my way to the cloakroom where, thank god, there was a window. I opened it as wide as it would go, hoiked myself up onto the ledge and began to clamber out. Halfway up, one leg on the sill, I felt mean. I’d hate it if someone did something like this to me, I thought; one of my mottos is to ‘do unto others as I’d have them do to me.’ I’m not a coward. I climbed down off the ledge, went back to the table and sat down.

  ‘So lovely lady, are you ready for some afternoon delight?’ Colin asked.

  ‘I am, Colin, sadly not with you. I always feel it best to be honest and … well, I don’t feel the connection.’

  A flash of anger crossed his face. ‘But I’ve paid for the room and … your gift.’

  ‘A tad presumptuous on your part and you can have your gift back.’

  He shrugged. ‘Your loss, doll,’ he said, and made a grab for the carrier bag.

  ‘I’m sure it is.’ I got out my purse and put down five pounds. ‘To cover my drink, and now I really do have to get going. Good luck, Colin, with your next date.’

  He was barely listening. He was looking on his phone, probably for his next date. I was no longer of interest.

  As I drove away, I thought, that’s it. No more Internet dating. I am giving up. It’s not working. Am I doing something wrong? Am I unlovable?

  Love Debs

  I felt bad for Debs. She was trying so hard to meet a man. She was a great woman and friend and I’d been holding out on her, not introducing her to a man who I know she’d like, and keeping secrets from her by not telling her I’d been to see him. However, despite my guilt, I still couldn’t – wouldn’t – introduce her to Tom.

  From: Cait@grmail.com

  To: Debs23@g.org.com, Lornaalp@org.com

  Don’t give up. Mr Right is out there somewhere. It’s not you. Colin just wasn’t the one for you.

  C

  X

  *

  From: Lornaalp@org.com

  To: Debs23@g.org.com, Cait@grmail.com

  Ditto what Cait said. Don’t give up, Debs.

  I have some news too. I’ve had the builders in re. putting in a kitchen on the west side of my house and walling part of it off with a view to renting a third of the house. Plan is to find some nice professional or couple to take it. Good solution all round. I think my kids will be happy about the compromise. I get to keep the family home; they won’t have to worry about me being alone.

  Lorna

  X

  *

  From: Cait@grmail.com

  To: Lornaalp@org.com, Debs23@g.org.com

  Excellent idea, Lorna.

  Debs. Mr Right will come along when you least expect him. You never know, he might just walk into the spa tomorrow.

  CX

  27

  Matt

  I sat in the waiting room and read a magazine while I waited for my masseur. Oriel. Debs had said she was one of the best. I felt nervous and wished I’d asked for a bloke but then, didn’t want to seem like a prude. It was a long time since I’d taken my clothes off in front of anyone apart from Cait and a male masseur in Egypt when we were on holiday about ten years ago. We’d had one of those treatments for two in the same room. Cait paid for the treatments as a birthday present to me. Her therapist was a young woman and my chap looked like a professional wrestler. Not the most relaxing hour I’ve spent, but hearing me groan in agony made Cait, and her masseuse, laugh. ‘Try not to kill customer,’ Cait’s woman called to my man, a phrase Cait adopted for the rest of the holiday.

  An inner door opened and Debs came out to greet me. ‘All ready for you,’ she said, ‘come this way.’

  I got up and followed her into the room named Nirvana. It had been painted in shades of pink; with the low lighting and candle burning it had a womb-like quality. In the centre was a massage couch and towels.

  ‘Strip off and lie on the couch, face down,’ said Debs.

  ‘What? Everything?’

  ‘Whatever makes you feel most comfortable. Keep your boxers on if you like.’ She left me alone so I stripped down to my underwear, lay down as instructed and waited for Oriel. A minute later, there was a gentle tap on the door. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I turned my head ready to greet Oriel, but it was Debs who’d come back in.

  She opened a bottle of oil and began to put it on her hands.

  ‘But I … I thought Oriel was going to do it?’

  ‘She’s got a bug. I offered to step in. It’s not a problem is it? Don’t worry. I’ve had all the training she had and more.’

  ‘No. No problem,’ I said. Yes, yes, a problem, I thought as I lay back down. I didn’t feel at all comfortable.

  ‘Good. Now relax and put all thoughts out of your mind.’

  I immediately tensed up. Shit, I thought. If Cait ever gets to hear about this, I … Debs began to run her hands along my back. I tensed even further. ‘How’s the pressure? I can go deeper or softer, whichever you prefer.’

  ‘Fine. It’s good. Er … so how are you, Debs?’

  ‘I’m fine, Matt, but there’s no need to talk. You’ll get more out of the session if you just lie there and surrender.’ She continued to move her hands up my back and began to knead a knot in my shoulder blade. ‘God, you are very tense.’

  I know, I thought, because you’re my wife’s best friend and this feels really weird.

  ‘Take some deep breaths,’ urged Debs. ‘In … out … In … out … That’s it. Let it all go.’

  For ten minutes, I felt myself resisting and couldn’t relax, then the scent of the room and the warmth of Debs’s touch began to work its magic. She had good hands and seemed to go right to the spots that needed it and I felt myself letting go. After fifteen minutes, it felt fantastic and I was drifting, feeling months of anxiety start to ease away. After half an hour, I was floating with the fairies
.

  ‘Turn on to your back,’ said Debs, bringing me back into the room. She held the towel so I could turn over discreetly, though I still felt the need to pull in my stomach muscles. Once on my back, she re-laid the towels, I closed my eyes again and Debs began to massage my feet. Once again, I felt the floating sensation. Why don’t I do this more often? I asked myself. In fact, it would probably do both Cait and me good to have regular sessions. I felt Debs’s hands move up from my feet onto my legs. Her palms felt warm, healing. The combination of the scent, the warmth and the touch was working its sensuous magic. I opened my eyes briefly and Debs looked down on me and smiled. ‘Nice?’

  I nodded and closed my eyes again. It had been a long time since I’d been touched by anyone other than Cait and it felt good, really good; helped, I had to admit, by the fact that Debs was an attractive woman. Her hands went up my inner thigh and I felt myself melting, melting … Then there was a stirring and I felt myself tense. No, oh shit no, I’m going to get an erection, oh Christ I have got an erection. Down, boy, down. Oh bugger and blast. I lifted my head to see the towel around my groin resembled a mini tent with a very stiff pole.

  Debs smiled over at me. ‘Well hello sailor.’

  ‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ I blustered.

  ‘No need. Lie back. It happens all the time.’

  But it was too late. Sailor boy was standing to attention whether I liked it or not. I thought of gas bills, mortgage payments, my overdraft, and the tent pole did finally subside, but I couldn’t relax back into that lovely state I’d been in ten minutes earlier. I felt guilty. For months, sex with Cait hadn’t been on the agenda, and now, half an hour with her friend, and it was hey ho and away we go. Willies really do have minds of their own. I remembered agonizing times as a young adolescent when mine would arise to salute the world at the most inappropriate times, especially on the bus when the warm interior and rhythmic motion would set me off. Other lads confessed that a girl in a tight T-shirt, a glimpse of thigh or cleavage would arouse them. For me, it was the back seat on a red double-decker bus and I worried I was some kind of pervert. As teenage boys, Duncan and I had been obsessed with our penises and how big they were. He’d come back one day having heard somewhere that if you use toothpaste, it enlarges the appendage. We’d both dutifully tried it that night but overlooked the fact that our toothpaste was menthol. It had stung like hell and neither of us could sit down for a few hours.