“But Rex said that Rachael wants a divorce.”
“So?”
“Is that what you want too? Is that what all this is about, all this getting fit and losing weight?”
Maggie put down her fork and stared at him.
“Is that what you think?” she replied calmly. Callum drained his wine glass.
“Well it’s very suspicious,” he continued, refilling his glass. Maggie glared at him. She was annoyed now.
“Oh, and your behaviour isn’t?” she continued, folding her arms and sitting back in the chair. “Working late every evening, suddenly becoming symbiotically attached to your phone, not coming anywhere near me for the past six months; you can hardly talk to me despite what I’ve done for you lately. If I was a lawyer, Callum Dunbar, I would say that that’s pretty suspicious, wouldn’t you?”
Callum didn’t reply, opting instead for the sanctuary of yet another large mouthful of red wine.
“Well?” persisted Maggie, “Wouldn’t you? I’m not stupid, Callum, I know something’s going on and I’m trying not to think about it. My behaviour isn’t suspicious, it’s self-defence.”
“So, are you having an affair?” asked Callum calmly.
“Are you?” replied Maggie, her mouth dry.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Neither did you.”
Both of them stared at each other across the table, accusations, guilt and frustration hanging like a storm cloud above them. Eventually, Maggie broke the silence.
“There’s chocolate pudding in the fridge.”
“Are you having some?” mumbled Callum, getting up from the table.
“No thank you, I’m on a diet.”
“Ridiculous,” hissed Callum.
“Well maybe you should think about shedding a few pounds, you’re starting to look a bit portly. Must be all those business lunches.”
As the words left her mouth, she regretted it. This wasn’t the direction she wanted to take; she wanted to play a cool hand. Incendiary comments were not sensible.
Opening the fridge, Callum took out the chocolate pudding and, removing the lid, opened the cutlery drawer for a spoon. Maggie was right, he did need to lose weight, but Emma had been attracted to him as he was. Emma loved him for himself, not what he could provide, her affection came with no pre-conditions and no pressure. Refusing to give in, Callum dipped the spoon into the tub and took a large mouthful.
“Please don’t lecture me, Maggie, it’s so bloody annoying,” he said as he swallowed the first spoonful. “I’ll lose weight if I want to, OK, not because you tell me to. I’m going to my study.”
As she heard the study door close, Maggie held her head in her hands. She was furious with herself. She didn’t want or need confrontation. She would need to be careful, as they were obviously both thinking the same thing. She realised that she had been the guilty party first, but she didn’t intend to take the blame. He’d driven her away in the first place and kept her at arm’s length; it was hardly surprising that she’d found the attention of another man so exciting. Although maybe she wasn’t the guilty party; maybe he’d been having an affair for months and she’d just never noticed. Maybe she’d been so self-absorbed that she’d not noticed him drifting away. Or maybe she just hadn’t cared. What she did know, however, was that she was now under the microscope, and she would now have to plan her campaign very, very carefully. Callum might appear useless, but he was an expert in the intricacies of divorce. She would need to warn Myles. Things, as expected, were starting to get a little complicated.
CHAPTER 11
Kyle took his basket to the checkout, and he could tell by the look on the assistant’s face that, in her opinion, his physique didn’t quite reflect its contents. Fully aware that he must be looking even more unattractive than usual after Thor’s circuits class, he desperately tried to avoid eye contact as he unloaded his shopping onto the conveyor belt.
“Are you needing a bag?” she asked chirpily. It was a ridiculous question as far as Kyle was concerned, as it was quite obvious that he didn’t have anything to carry the stuff in. At least she was cheery, not like the miserable old bat stacking the veg. He’d obviously upset her by insisting on taking his bag of spinach from the back of the shelf. His mum had always taken from the back; she’d wanted her money’s worth.
“Yes please,” he replied politely. The assistant handed him a bag and started to fire down his shopping. It was quiet and she was obviously in the mood for a chat to pass the time.
“I’ve never tried any of this stuff,” she said, looking at the bag of kale. “I don’t really eat vegetables, can’t stomach them, gives me wind. What’s it taste like? Do you like it?”
“I don’t know,” said Kyle, taking it from her and putting it in the bag. “I’m just trying it, I need to lose weight.”
The woman on the till laughed as she looked him up and down. She was quite pretty when she smiled, thought Kyle and he liked her red hair. His mum had had red hair. He wondered how old she was; he guessed early twenties but he wasn’t great at guessing ages. And she had smiley eyes. He liked that.
“Oh God, so do I, but I like my food too much, well and the booze. I’ve tried so many bloody diets. I was at Porky Club till two weeks ago—”
“Porky Club?” asked Kyle, confused.
“Slimming club, ya dafty, me and my pal call it Porky Club, I think we were the only people that managed to put on weight.” As she sent the last avocado down, she sat back and watched him as he filled the bag. “Trouble is we were so bloody starving we’d go mental at the weekends when we’d had a few vinos, always ended up in the chippy.”
Kyle smiled.
“But life’s too short, isn’t it?” she continued, looking for reassurance.
“Yeah,” replied Kyle. “And I’ve decided it could be very short if I don’t get my act together. My mum dropped dead at forty-five, I’m not keen on following in her footsteps just yet.”
Surprised at himself for unloading on a complete stranger, he felt himself flush as he finished his packing. The girl on the till didn’t respond as, for a moment, unsure of what to say she quietly assessed her own probability of a long life. As Kyle struggled to balance the grapes on top of the bag, she finally broke the silence.
“There you go then, that’s twenty-five pounds thirty-eight pence. Do you have a loyalty card?”
“No sorry, I don’t usually do much shopping.”
“Well you might need to get one, especially if you’re going to buy more of this green stuff. I wouldn’t know where to start. Look, I’ll give you a card, you just need to go online and validate it.”
“Well I don’t know where to start either, I’ve started going to a personal trainer and he’s keeping me right.”
The woman handed him the loyalty card.
“Oh, that’s quite fancy, like all the celebs, but isn’t that expensive? I couldn’t afford that on my wages.”
“Well I’ve cut out all the booze and takeaways,” replied Kyle, inserting his card into the machine. “I was spending a lot more on them and, to be honest, I’m not sure I could do it on my own.”
Kyle removed the card.
“Oh, I don’t think I could give up the chardonnay,” smiled the woman, handing him a receipt and some money-off vouchers he’d never use. “But I’ll look out for you, and if you turn into Bradley Cooper I might change my mind.”
Kyle noticed her name badge.
“Well there’s a challenge. Thanks, Gemma.”
Gemma blushed. “I usually work in the evenings.”
“Well then, I’ll probably see you again then. Thanks for the chat.”
And as Gemma turned to serve the next customer, she was annoyed with herself for not asking his name.
* * *
Throwing her keys on the hall table, Rachael glanced into the sitting room. As expected, Rex was still there and, as usual, he had nodded off in front of the TV, probably after consuming whatever takeaway
he’d had delivered this time, along with several beers. It smelt like curry. As she stood in the doorway, she could hear him snoring over the drivel he’d been watching. She wondered how long it took people to die if you smothered them, and whether Forensics would be able to tell. Closing the door quietly, she walked through to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, Rachael took out the selection of salads and fish that Maggie had suggested she buy. She’d never cooked sea bass before, but Maggie had said that there was no way she could go wrong with something that only took eight minutes to cook. In Maggie’s world it wasn’t possible. She obviously didn’t know her that well. Finding a pan, she added a touch of oil as per Maggie’s instructions and then, rummaging for scissors, fought with the packaging to remove the fish from its plastic confines. The class had actually been quite good fun. Yes, she was knackered but the sight of Maggie throwing herself passionately, but not always elegantly, into each exercise was worth the money. Maggie was a star. A bossy one, but one who sincerely had everyone else’s welfare as her concern. Her heart was in the right place and she couldn’t let her down. They were definitely in this together. Hopefully divorce would be a little easier with Maggie by her side. With her help and support, a new life was a real possibility.
“Right, little fella,” whispered Rachael, grimacing as the smell of the fish hit her nostrils. “Sorry about this, but in you go.” And as the sea bass hissed and crackled, Rachael picked up her phone and sent a text to Maggie:
Thnx so much. Fish in pan. See you next week, hopefully a few pounds lighter xx
* * *
Walking past the firmly closed study door on her way to run a bath, Maggie opened the message. She needed a friend right now. The atmosphere in the house was stifling. Her bathroom was her only sanctuary. Turning on the hot water, Maggie poured in some bergamot oil which, according to her hippy friend Kate, helped to reduce anxiety. As she sat on the edge of the bath, Maggie took a deep breath and allowed her lungs to fill will the aroma. Closing her eyes, she breathed out. Maybe there was something in this aroma thing after all. Picking up her phone, she sent a reply to Rachael:
No problem. Keep up the good work. We should go to circuits on Saturday morning. I’ll pick you up at 8.30. Here’s to the sisterhood and arses of iron. Much love xxx
Standing up, she looked at herself in the mirror. The conversation at dinner had shaken her. She liked to be in control. She hadn’t been prepared and she didn’t like it. Things were moving too fast; she definitely needed to get a grip on things. If Callum wanted a divorce, she would need to get ahead of the game; he was obviously looking to blame her, but she wasn’t stupid. She needed to find out more about the other woman in his life as the timing of his affair would probably prove to be critical, especially when he found out about Myles and the fact that they had got together on the last golf trip. Seducing your suicidal husband’s arch enemy when you’d flown out to rescue him, probably hadn’t been her best move, but she and Myles had found comfort in each other. Life hadn’t handed out the easiest of paths to him either. Insecurity often disguised itself as arrogance and Myles was a prime example of that But she was good at finding things out. She would soon get to the bottom of it There wasn’t much she couldn’t handle. Tomorrow her campaign would begin. She might need the mac and dark glasses after all.
CHAPTER 12
Friday
“Thor Thorogood,” said Thor chirpily. “Pleased to meet you. Savannah, isn’t it?” He held out his hand and, reluctantly, the girl hiding under the black hood shook it unenthusiastically. She wasn’t used to being up at this time of the morning.
“Come on through,” continued Thor, realising that this one was definitely not going to be easy. “Did you bring your sheet?” She rummaged in her sweatpants pocket and, as Thor held open the door for her, she silently handed it over.
“I hope you answered it truthfully,” he joked, signalling for her to take a seat. He could tell she was nervous; most of her anxiety being channelled into a tough exterior sheltering beneath her cave of a hood.
Savannah sat down and looked around the room. She disliked the smell. It reminded her of the school changing rooms, not a great place for any girl hating her body. Remaining resolutely within her sanctuary, she scanned over the messages on the posters. “Love Yourself”, “You only have one life. Do something with it”. She sighed. Blah, blah, blah, she’d heard it all before. She’d downloaded apps, listened to podcasts and followed gurus on twitter. She still felt shit. She’d been to the doctor but, apparently, she didn’t yet feel shit enough to require medication. Her mum, on the other hand, fed up with the disinterest from the numerous health professionals they had visited, was desperately trying all angles. After watching a program which said that exercise was the answer, she had contacted Thor. So here she was. She looked at Thor. He looked nice in a weird PE teacher sort of way and she supposed he was quite good-looking. At least he had a cool haircut. She wondered what her mum had said to him. He probably thought she was a head case but he wouldn’t have any idea what was going on in her life. Even her mum didn’t know the half of it.
“So why are you here?” asked Thor gently as he scanned over the content of the diet sheet.
Savannah remained firmly in her cave.
“Because my mum made me.”
“Made you? You don’t have to be here. You should only be here if you want to.”
Savannah didn’t reply. Maybe she did want to. Maybe this was her last chance at getting her life onto a positive track.
“Do you want to be here, Savannah? I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Do you want to stay?”
Savannah shrugged.
“What does that mean?” asked Thor, slightly annoyed. He wasn’t used to teenagers.
“Well? There’s no point going through all this paperwork if you don’t want to be here. I want you to be here because you want to change your life. I want to help you, Savannah, your mum wants to help you because she loves you, but we both need you to want to help yourself. Do you want to do that? Do you want to try?”
From underneath the hoodie Savannah nodded. She did want to try. She did want to change.
“I suppose so,” she mumbled.
“Good,” said Thor gently. “That’s brilliant. Now, let’s get that hood down and have a look at this sheet. I need to see who I’m talking to. At the moment it’s like talking to Darth Sidious and I’m finding it all a bit bloody spooky.”
“I never watched Star Wars,” Savannah said quietly as she removed her hood, revealing a mass of tangled auburn hair, arranged messily but surprisingly stylishly in a bun. Fixing him with her green eyes, she stared at him. “I’m more of a Game of Thrones fan.”
“Me too,” he smiled as he picked up the sheet and started to read through it.
“Most of it is bollocks,” she continued.
“What is?” replied Thor, looking at her. “Game of Thrones?” She was sitting back in her chair now, arms folded.
“No, what I’ve written down. I’ve never eaten asparagus in my life and I don’t intend to, I saw it on Masterchef. I know my diet is rubbish, I don’t need you to tell me. Bet you don’t eat chicken nuggets, like ever, do you?”
Thor didn’t take her on. Taking down the hood, she’d come out of her cave ready to defend. He realised that he would need to play this carefully.
“Sometimes,” he grinned. “If I’m desperate.”
“Well that’s all I eat.”
“Nothing else?”
“Baked beans.”
“Any fruit or veg?”
“Bananas.”
“That’s it, no peas or carrots?”
“Peas if I have to. I’ve had a cucumber as well.”
“When was that then?” asked Thor. “2012?”
Savannah finally allowed herself a proper smile. “Yeah, it’s pretty crap, isn’t it? I know that. I did Home Ec. at school.”
With the realisation that this was going to
be a one-step-at-a-time job, Thor decided against getting the scales out. She was already restricting her diet and she didn’t look overweight. Confidence boosting was the issue here. If they could address that, hopefully the rest would follow. Ripping up the sheet, he threw it in the bin.
“Well that was a waste of time,” sighed Savannah.
“Well you shouldn’t have written down complete bollocks, should you? Complete bollocks are no good to me.”
Savannah snorted and, as Thor realised what he’d said, he started laughing.
“Right, miss, you’ve got out of the diet lecture, but you’re not getting out of the fitness test. Let’s see if your attitude matches up in the gym.”
And as Savannah trudged through to the gym, Thor hoped that, somehow, he’d be able to get her on track. Seventeen was far too young to be giving up on life. There was a spark inside that hard exterior, she just needed to find a way to fire it up. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy and, if he was honest with himself, he was slightly worried that he was out of his depth. But, hey, he’d give it a go. Thor wasn’t a quitter. He’d give it his best shot.
* * *
Rachael woke up and winced. She could hardly move. Every muscle in her body ached. Surely it couldn’t be time to get up yet. The radio hadn’t come on; she had no idea what time it was. She looked at the clock, it was only 5.30; god, she needed all the sleep she could get, Friday was always the busiest day at work. As she went to turn over, she heard the toilet flush. Rex. He must have woken her up banging that bloody bathroom door, the one he’d been promising to get fixed for the last three years. The door that reminded her of his ineptitude every time she tried to close it. Stretching out her very painful limbs, Rachael turned on her back and stared into the darkness. The landing light was still on and the chink of light coming under the bedroom door reflected annoyingly in the wardrobe mirror.
Trust Me, I’m a Personal Trainer Page 6