by Beth Moran
‘I can’t do it.’ I couldn’t seem to stop shaking my head. ‘See? I’m already panicking.’
‘Amy, two weeks ago you made it all the way to the country club. This is just the café. With all the people who are in the café every time you go.’
‘I haven’t been out since then,’ I confessed. ‘Joey’s at the cinema with Sean and I’m not in a fit state…’
Nathan ducked to meet my eyes, waiting until my bobble-head slowed down enough to lock onto his gaze. Oh my. Could we just stay here all night instead? Those grey depths looked like solid rock, hewn from the side of some ancient mountain. Strong enough to hold me steady when the rest of the world was bucking like a rodeo.
‘This is what’s happening: you’re going to go upstairs and change into your running gear, then we’re heading out as if it’s 6 a.m., and after our 3K run we’ll stop at the Cup and Saucer and hang out for an hour or so. Have a drink, eat some fruit and oats or eggs or,’ he pulled a face, ‘pancakes. We’ll talk, the Larks will tell stories, make jokes and take the mickey out of me as much as possible. Then, once the post-exercise endorphins have worn off, I’ll walk you home. And you will be so damn proud of yourself for going, in the morning when your courage muscles are sore and tired along with your body, every twinge will make you smile.’
I blinked, sniffed, felt around in my dressing-gown pocket for a tissue. ‘That is not how the scenario in my head plays out. And I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. There are multiple options, like those choose-your-own adventure stories. None of them end with me proud, or smiling.’ I let out a watery laugh. ‘More like embarrassed and pathetic. Possibly covered in vomit or passed out in the back of an ambulance.’
‘I don’t like your scenarios. Let’s go with mine instead.’
‘Is this another one of my challenges?’
His eyes crinkled. ‘Do you want it to be?’
‘If that means I can pick a challenge for you.’
He shrugged. ‘Hit me with your worst. Nothing can beat “Livin’ on a Prayer”.’
‘I’ll have you know, Mel walked down the aisle to that song.’
‘Like I said, you can’t beat it.’ Nathan grinned, my heart liquified to molten mushiness, and that was all it took.
‘Give me five minutes.’
Ten minutes later, having changed, brushed my hair and teeth and darted randomly around my room for a bit, I found Nathan stretching his arms over his head in my kitchen. Whew, he was tall. A glimpse of flat stomach where his T-shirt had ridden up sent a rush of heat to my face and nearly made me forget the very important question which had occurred to me while fumbling to tie my running shoelaces.
Ah yes, that was it…
‘If we’re going straight to the party from our run, I’ll be sweaty and dishevelled and gross. And I don’t want to turn up wearing these when everyone else is all done up in their party gear. I’ll be self-conscious enough as it is.’ So there! I didn’t mention the alternative plan jigging about inside my brain, that Nathan and I keep on running right past the café and come back here for a party for two. Honestly, I really had to get back out in the real world and remind myself that other male humans did exist.
‘We’ll take it easy, not get too sweaty. And by the time we get there, the party’ll be in full swing, everyone else will be just as bad and having too much fun to notice or care. And Dani’s bag is in my rucksack, you can change when we get there. Now, come on, warm-up.’
‘Thirty seconds.’ I sprinted back upstairs, coming down again with a handful of make-up and a hairbrush shoved into an old washbag. ‘Will these fit in?’
Nathan sighed, rolled his eyes and stretched round to stuff them in a side pocket.
‘Oh, and my phone. And I’ll need some money. Definitely tissues. And shoes! I can’t wear muddy trainers. House keys. Anything else?’
Nathan stood there fidgeting while I added the extra items as they occurred to me.
‘You know what? We’ll walk the first quarter-mile, make that the warm-up.’ And he bundled me out the door before I could protest about the importance of proper pre-run stretches…
An hour later, I staggered through the door of the Cup and Saucer, a pungent combination of icy numbness and steaming heat. For goodness’ sake, as if Amelia Piper could exercise alongside a man she found increasingly disturbingly, pointlessly and humiliatingly attractive and take it easy. The only way for me to face what lay at the end of the run was to push so hard I didn’t have enough spare oxygen to think about it. It was the first time I’d run alone with Nathan, and it felt unexpectedly intimate, pushing up and down the wooded slopes through the darkness, the only sounds the twin squelch of our footsteps – and my laboured breathing (it is really quite distracting, trying to run as fast as you can while not wheezing and panting like an asthmatic warthog). I could have kept running right on through until sunrise. Possibly a little bit further than that. If I didn’t have a stitch by then.
Nathan, on the other hand, strolled in behind me as if a taxi had dropped him right outside. He handed me the rucksack, threw me a wink and promised to bag me a spot at my usual table. I tried to slink to the ladies’ room undetected, while at the same time aware that every pair of eyes in the room was on me, or my personal trainer. Probably swivelling in glee (or rage) between the two of us, jumping to all sorts of impossible and ridiculous conclusions. None of which (ALL OF WHICH!) I’d been imagining while pounding the footpaths, a million stars above our heads.
To no one’s surprise, least of all mine, my disappearance into the ladies’ room coincided with a mass urge to powder noses. When I came out of the cubicle, the tiny space in front of the sinks was jam-packed.
‘Can I wash my hands, please?’ I asked, attempting assertive and unbothered, succeeding at nervous and uncomfortable. My anxiety eyed all those women and smirked, giving me a nudge in the ribs sharp enough to make my lungs stutter.
Thankfully, not all those women were gawkers. Dani and Mel were crammed up against the door.
‘Oy!’ Mel yelled, probably loud enough that everyone in the café could hear above the blare of Michael Bublé. ‘If you ain’t here to use the facilities, show a bit of Larks’ solidarity and get on wi’ yer. You all know Nathan’s bin givin’ Ames some personal trainin’ – and no, not that type o’ personal, Miranda Jones, you ain’t fourteen, please stop actin’ like it – ain’t nothin’ remarkable about them turning up ’ere in running gear. If they’d waltzed in ’ere all done up and flushed from a cheeky pre-drink somewhere, then you’d ’ave cause to raise yer drawn-on eyebrows, Isobel Martin. But even then, it’d be none of yer business. Nathan can date oo ’e likes.’
‘Actually, that’s not true,’ Selena, rammed up against the other cubicle door, said. ‘He’s not allowed to date clients. And even if he was, he won’t, however tempted. So unless this is also Amy’s leaving-do, you can rest assured there’s no reason for you to be squashed in here like sardines scavenging for plankton.’
‘You’re in here!’ Bronwyn called from her perch on the edge of a sink.
‘I came to check if she was all right!’ Selena barked. ‘Not to scrump for gossip!’
Ugh. I felt as though I had fallen into a volcano. Suffocatingly hot, dizzy from the lack of air, the outside music distorting into a cacophony. I needed space, quiet, cold water on my wrists and face. To find a focal spot and remember how to get my chest moving properly. And most of my head was taken up with the overwhelming urge to grab onto the strong, gentle hand that had become my anchor.
I leant my arms against the spare sink, closed my eyes and cursed this whole stupid enterprise. At some point, which could have been anything between a few seconds and half a lifetime, I felt a different hand – wonderfully cool and firm, press against the back of my neck.
‘Come on,’ a voice with an unmistakeable thread of steel said. ‘Time to buck up and stop giving those jealous cows something to gossip about.’
I debated that statement for anoth
er few seconds.
‘Here. Get changed, then I’ll sort your face.’
Dani’s bag bumped against my arm, and I opened my eyes to see Selena rummaging through my make-up bag, her nose wrinkling at the measly contents. I picked the carrier bag up, twisting it in my hands while attempting to clear the freezing fog from my brain.
‘Tonight’s a big deal for Nathan. If you skulk off now, then he won’t be able to enjoy all the Larks who did make the effort, sorted babysitters, bothered dressing up and dragging their other halves out to honour everything he’s done for us this year. He’ll just feel crap about the one Lark who flaked.’ Selena pointed an ancient lipstick at me, ‘You are not going to make Nathan feel crap this evening. If Audrey has to pin you down while I wrestle you into that dress myself.’
The thought of Audrey getting involved in this scenario was enough. Less than a minute later, I was leaning against the sink as Selena tried to work a miracle with my gunky old mascara. ‘You care a lot about Nathan,’ I observed, risking a good, hard poke in the eye.
The tip of the wand hovered for a fraction of a second, Selena’s gaze fixed firmly somewhere around my eyebrow. ‘I’ve met enough scummy men to know the value of a good one.’
‘Why don’t you leave the Larks and investigate where that chemistry might lead?’
She jabbed the mascara back in its lid. ‘If I don’t come, then Audrey won’t. And believe it or not, the club is the closest thing she’s got to having friends. She spends all day by herself, cleaning empty houses for women who have the confidence to do something with their lives. Apart from playing bridge with a few pensioners, she doesn’t see another soul. And while she might act like she hates it, in the past few months she’s started running most days. Actually getting off her backside and doing something positive.’ She started dabbing some gloss onto my top lip. ‘She comes back glowing. I knew she’d learn to appreciate it if I dragged her along enough times.’
‘Right.’ Wrong! ‘You’re sacrificing your feelings for Nathan for the sake of Audrey.’
‘Oh for pity’s sake, don’t try twisting it into something noble. No mother wants a fat, lazy daughter with no friends and no prospect of ever moving out. If she can scrabble together some self-respect, we all end up better off.’
I could have said that if she showed Audrey some respect it might help, but seeing as she was currently in charge of my face, I’d save it for another time.
‘Besides, while Nathan and I might have undeniable physical magnetism, when it comes to a relationship, he is so not my brand. And however spectacular our no-strings nights would be – and they would be – in the morning I’d miss my run with the girls. Nope, Nathan and I are one of those doomed cases of pure, raw passion destined never to be.’ She leant forwards, her bronzed cleavage squishing against my cheek as she fiddled with some stray strands of hair. ‘Still, he knows that I know what’s running through his head when he sneaks a peek at me limbering up.’ She straightened up, spinning me around to face the mirror and lowering her voice to a purr. ‘Pure. Magic.’
‘Wow.’
‘I know. And look, with a bit of effort you’ve not scrubbed up too badly, either. You could almost justify the rumours about you and Nate. Dim the lights, wait for him to chug a few beers and it’s not so far-fetched to think he could offer you a second glance.’
‘Thanks, Selena. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in years.’ I might have managed to pull off the sarcasm a little better, had that statement not actually been true.
‘He doesn’t drink alcohol though. So I guess it’ll still be all eyes on me.’
And with that, she swung out the door, giving me a much-needed minute to look in the mirror and wonder who on earth blinked back, in that pretty black jumpsuit with the pink and blue flowers that somehow transformed chunk to curves. This strange young woman with her smooth skin and bright eyes got a second glance from me, and that was all that mattered.
‘Right then, whoever you are, time to find out whether you like to party or not.’
And wouldn’t you know it, she did.
And, while Nathan may have only offered me one glance as I stuck back my shoulders and did my best attempt at a confident strappy-heeled stroll over to Mel, it was long enough for his eyes to crinkle up and his smile to spread to a surprised grin, and it lit me up all the way to the buffet table. What mattered was not whether or not it contained any physical magnetism, or pure, raw passion (I’m ninety-nine per cent sure it didn’t), but that he knew I knew what he was thinking anyway: Nathan was happy for me, and proud of me, and pleased as the cinnamon punch that I had made it.
So, Selena had been right about that, if nothing else.
I spent the remaining two hours before Joey was due home listening to my friends (my FRIENDS!) laughing and telling stories and winding each other up, while sipping on cheap wine and inwardly goggling at the fact that I was at a party, and not even hating it. When, about an hour or so in, my anxiety stirred, Dani tucked one arm through mine and winked, effectively clonking it on the head with a sledgehammer. I joined in the quiz, and cheered along when Bronwyn dragged Nathan onto the tiny dance floor, because ‘we’ve heard you’re a legendary groover’.
‘Good job her new boyfriend isn’t here,’ Dani pouted, making the word boyfriend sound like something she’d found floating in her toilet.
‘Not his scene, apparently,’ Mel replied, flinging some of her own shapes beside us as Taylor Swift pumped out of the speakers.
‘Because the closest thing to illegal drug use is Audrey puffing on her inhaler,’ Dani sniffed back.
Mel shimmied closer. ‘Plus, Isobel getting a speeding ticket is the Larks equivalent of a crime lord.’
‘It’s not funny, though. If Bronwyn doesn’t extricate herself from this situation soon, I’m going to seriously worry. Either that or start digging up evidence to get him banged up somewhere very far away.’
‘Do you know for sure it’s one of the Outlaws?’ I asked.
‘I know for sure her previous boyfriends’ names, jobs, favourite holiday destinations and brands of underwear,’ Dani said. ‘And most of them only lasted a couple of weeks. If he’s not an Outlaw, she’s got another very good reason for keeping him a secret. And I can’t imagine it’s anything good.’
‘Unless it’s him!’ Mel giggled, as the door to the café opened and a man stepped in. ‘Maybe she’s decided to go for a more mature man after that last fella turned out to be a teenager.’
Only, Bronwyn wasn’t the only Lark keeping her love life under wraps, of course. I watched, and waited, dying to say something but determined to keep my promise. The elderly man, who had fortunately swapped his dressing gown for tweed trousers and orange waistcoat, comedy tiptoed across to where Audrey sat, her back to the room, like a grumpy Christmas gnome. He might have gone largely unnoticed, everyone was so engrossed in having a whale of a time, except that he crept up behind Audrey and placed his hands over her eyes, in that never-ever-in-the-history-of-ever-funny ‘guess who I am!’ manoeuvre. She let out a shriek like a Nazgul, jumping back and flailing around so hard that it caused a domino effect of toppling people that was only stopped by the buffet table. Here, the last domino knocked the punch bowl flying and drenched the initial domino’s mother from the top of her giant hair extensions to the bottom of her designer Grace Tynedale shoes.
Oops.
‘Who’s that?’ Mel asked, mouth agape, as people scrambled to their feet, and Chris and his waiting staff rushed to mop up the mess.
‘That, is Graham.’ I suspected Audrey’s secret was out at this point.
‘Isn’t he the guy who lives in that massive house on Foxglove Lane?’ Derek, who had smoothly arrived at Dani’s side at the first hint of trouble, asked. ‘Had a thing with the woman in the Post Office?’
‘Graham Giggs?’ Mel shook her head in wonder. ‘I didn’t recognise him with a beard. And he was carrying on with Elaine Moody, at the library, not Post Offic
e Paula. They used to slip into store cupboards thinkin’ no one would notice. Caused a right problem before them self-service machines got installed.’
‘It was both of them,’ Marjory chipped in. ‘And half a dozen more besides. The thing about horrid little men who think they’re God’s gift to womankind is that they always seem to home in on those gullible enough to fall for it. Women with no self-esteem and no purpose. Who are looking to escape a hostile home environment, where they are belittled and bullied.’
‘Audrey does seem to really like him,’ I ventured.
‘Really?’ Dani quirked one eyebrow. ‘I can’t see it, myself.’
Audrey was currently looking more animated than previously appeared possible, waving her arms as she clearly explained to Graham what she thought of him turning up at the party.
‘How do you know Graham Giggs?’ Selena, dabbing at her white dress with a damp cloth, asked, her snarl echoing through the otherwise silent room. ‘Is he one of your bridge group?’
‘Yes,’ Audrey replied, at the same time as Graham said, ‘What bridge group?’
‘Because if he was, I’d have banned you from going.’
‘You can’t ban her from doing anything!’ Graham retorted, grabbing Audrey’s hand. ‘She’s twenty-two years old, she can do whatever she likes!’
‘You keep out of this, you old fart!’ Selena shouted, her face turning crimson beneath the orangey bronzer. ‘I’m her MOTHER, if I say she’s not going, she’s not going. Audrey – you are no longer going to the bridge group.’
‘Well, ban away, Mother, there is no bridge group!’ Graham laughed. No one else joined him.
‘Mum,’ Audrey said, her eyes wild, entire body trembling. ‘Graham and I are together.’
All the red drained out of Selena’s face, leaving it whiter than the remaining clean patches on her dress. ‘What?’
‘You can’t stop me! He makes me happy. Isn’t that what you want, for me to find a man and be happy? That’s why you made me join the Larks.’