Trust Me, I’m a Personal Trainer

by Sam Derbyshire

  Rachael opened the door for her.

  “Do you think I must have been a bad girl in a former life, Marnie? Oh, welcome to the world, little Rachael, here’s your welcome pack: a nutcase mother, a pisshead husband, oh and just to make it really fun, when she’s twenty, your beautiful daughter will turn into a vegan.”

  “It could be worse,” replied Marnie.

  “Could it? How?”

  “She could be a Jehovah’s Witness and then you wouldn’t have Christmas. At least you’ll still have Christmas.”

  “Yes, but with no fucking turkey. Anyway, back to the grind, love, I’ll see you at one.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Stopping for a breather, Thor handed Barbara her water bottle. It was good to be outside. In Thor’s opinion, training was always more enjoyable with fresh air in the lungs. He’d become pretty creative lately at using the natural environment in the vicinity of the sports club, it was amazing what use you could get out of lamp posts, goal posts, slopes and stairs. His clients usually moaned when he first made them train outside, embarrassed and terrified of being seen in public as overweight and unfit.; but once they realised that they actually were overweight and unfit, most of them rose to the challenge. Barbara, however, never moaned. No-nonsense Barbara was one of life’s stalwarts; solid, reliable and a pleasure to train. Barbara had no plans to give in to old age. Barbara still had a lot of living to do and despite losing Maureen, her partner of twenty-five years last year, Barbara had picked herself up and set herself a stack of new challenges, many of which would test most twenty-year olds. Barbara was a star.

  “So, what’s up with you?”

  “What do you mean?” replied Thor, annoyed at himself for letting his emotions so obviously affect his work.

  “Well you’re a wee bit grumpy this morning, where’s the banter, laddie? What up with you?”

  “Nothing,” replied Thor.

  “Come on, sunshine. Girl trouble, is it?”

  “Not really.”

  “So yes. Why don’t you just say: ‘Yes it is, Barbara’ and tell me all about it?”

  Thor rummaged in his rucksack and handed Barbara a resistance band. He didn’t want to discuss it.

  “OK, ten bicep curls, drop the band, run to the next lamp post, ten star-jumps, next lamp post twenty skips, the ropes on the floor, next lamp post and get a breather.”

  “And I’ll start when you tell me what’s up and I’ll mull it over between lamp posts. I’m not moving till you tell me. No one wants a miserable trainer, sunshine. Come on, get it off your chest.”

  Thor sighed as he stared at Barbara, standing like a stubborn bulldog. There was no way she would move until he told her.

  “Well there’s this girl, I quite like her but she’s jealous of what I do and if I don’t message her every five minutes, she goes mental, and I can’t always fit in with what she wants to do and—”

  “Chuck her. You’re wasting your time. She’ll never change.”

  “I knew you’d say that,” replied Thor, slightly crestfallen.

  “Well there you go then, that’s your subconscious talking. Move on. Find a proper woman.”

  “What like you, Barbara, are you flirting with me?” grinned Thor.

  “If I swung your way, my dear, I may possibly have given you a test run but, seriously, you need a proper woman, not one of these wishy-washy, needy types. If they need your constant attention to make them feel secure, don’t go there. There are plenty of confident women out there, you’re obviously not looking in the right place. I bet you find them all on that bloody Tinpot dating site—”

  “Tinder.”

  “Tinder, Tinpot whatever,” continued Barbara, “superficial garbage that it is. Alright for getting your leg over, but that’s about it.”

  “Well not entirely true, a mate of mine got married a few weeks ago and they met on Tinder.”

  “It won’t last,” replied Barbara, “how long have they known each other?”

  “Four months.”

  “Definitely won’t last. Look, I’d never have met Maureen on a website, she wasn’t exactly a looker. If I’d gone on looks, I’d never have asked her out, but we met in a pub and chatted face to face, like normal people used to do, and she made me laugh. I wouldn’t have found that out on bloody Tinsel or whatever you bloody call it. No, chuck her. The right one will come along if you open your eyes and look for something other than big tits. And get rid of that bloody phone. If you’ve got your nose stuck in those bloody websites, you’ll not notice what’s going on in the real world. Now, how many bicep curls? Ten, was it?”

  “Twenty,” replied Thor. “An extra ten for being a bossy gobshite.”

  “There we go,” replied Barbara, winking at him. “Aunty Barbara’s helpline. I’ll be wanting a discount for all this therapy.”

  And as Barbara took off to the first lamp post, Thor admitted that – as usual – she was probably right.

  * * *

  As Maggie settled into a seat beside the window in the very busy restaurant, she caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. She actually quite suited long hair, but blonde definitely wasn’t her colour. The wig she’d bought for the Abba Mama Mia night at the golf club last month wasn’t exactly high quality but, hopefully, it would do the job. She’d forgotten, however, how terribly itchy it was; she would need to make a conscious effort not to scratch. Taking another look at her reflection, she adjusted the wig slightly and considered removing the sunglasses; they were possibly a little over the top, but she felt more secure behind them.

  “Can I get you a drink while you’re waiting?” asked a very sweet young waitress, suddenly appearing beside her.

  “Oh yes please,” replied Maggie, conscious that the girl was staring at her hair. “Just a sparkling water please, with ice and lime.”

  “And would you like to see a menu or are you waiting for someone?” continued the waitress chirpily.

  “No, I am not waiting for anyone and, yes, I’d like to see a menu. Thank you.”

  As the waitress disappeared, Maggie looked out of the window and then looked at her watch. It was 12.05. She could see Callum’s office from here, it would be interesting to see his movements on a Friday lunchtime. Myles, as promised, had managed to get hold of Mike and, according to Mike, Callum hadn’t joined them for lunch for the past month, despite being invited. He obviously had other priorities. Placing her order with the waitress, who was obviously still intrigued by her hair, Maggie picked up her phone and called Myles.

  “Hi. Can you speak?”

  “Of course,” replied Myles. “I can always speak to you. Where are you?”

  “I’m in a restaurant opposite Callum’s office, I thought I’d follow him if he came out for lunch.”

  “What if he sees you?”

  “Hopefully he won’t recognise me, Myles, I’m wearing a blonde wig.”

  She could hear Myles stifling a chuckle.

  “Please send me a photo. Are you wearing dark glasses as well?”

  “Yes I am actually, I’m sure the waitress thinks I’m suspicious. I think she can tell it’s a wig.”

  “She probably thinks you’re a hooker?”

  Maggie was horrified.

  “Oh my god, do you think so?”

  “Please send a photo.”

  “No, Myles, I will not. Anyway, don’t distract me, I might miss him. This is serious.”

  As the waitress placed her parsnip soup and smoked salmon sandwich in front of her, Maggie blushed, desperate to tell her that she wasn’t a prostitute.

  “Thank you.” She smiled.

  “You’re welcome,” replied the waitress as she stared again at her hair. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, this is perfect, thank you.”

  “What have you got for lunch?” continued Myles. He couldn’t believe Maggie was actually going through with this. Hacking Callum’s phone seemed a much easier option.

  “Just soup and a sandwic
h because I’m on a diet. I’m going to a personal trainer now and he weighs me, so I have to stick to my plan.”

  “He? I hope you’re behaving yourself?”

  “Of course I am, and don’t you start, I’ve had all this from Callum. That’s why he suspects me of having an affair; he says that women only start going to a personal trainer at my age if they’re having an affair. Anyway, don’t worry, Thor is far too young for me and very professional. He’s promised me an arse of iron.”

  “Yes, I bet he has,” drawled Myles. “You need to be careful. Anyone who calls himself Thor sounds dodgy to me.”

  “He’s fine, Myles. If he was a woman you wouldn’t be suggesting things like that. You men are so suspicious.”

  “That’s because we know what we’re like,” replied Myles.

  Maggie wasn’t listening, her attention now diverted by the appearance of Callum.

  “Oh lord, I think I’ve just seen him.”

  “The personal trainer?”

  “No, Callum of course. He’s just come out of his office. That’s early. He’s making a phone call. I bet he’s phoning her. Oh lord, he’s coming this way and I’m only halfway through my soup. Damn, I thought he’d have lunch later. Why did I order soup? I’ll have to go, I need to pay the bill. Oh my god, he’s crossing the road. What if he sees me?”

  “Just put your head down and keep talking, you’ve got a blonde wig on for Christ sake, he’s never going to recognise you.”

  “He’s stopped on the corner, twenty yards away. Oh, I’ll just leave cash. Where is that waitress?”

  “Maggie, you need to calm down. Just get the bill and wait where you are until he moves.”

  Maggie signalled for the bill from the waitress and took another bite of her sandwich. Callum was still standing on the corner. Maggie watched him as he took another look at his phone. He looked different, a little jaunty, nothing like the Callum that came home to her every night. As the waitress handed her the bill, Maggie saw a woman walk up to Callum and kiss him on the cheek. And as Callum embraced her and took her hand, Maggie’s stomach lurched.

  “She’s arrived,” she said.

  “Good, get a photo.”

  “She’s not what I expected, she’s quite plump,” Maggie continued, not really listening. “I’m a little disappointed, I expected someone more glamorous.”

  “Well he’s not exactly Brad Pitt and he’s getting on a bit, what did you expect?”

  “Well I don’t know, really,’ replied Maggie, crestfallen. “I suppose if your husband finds someone else, you hope that they’re younger and prettier than you.”

  “Talk me through that one,” replied Myles, intrigued. Female logic never ceased to amaze him.

  “Well because if they’re not, that means I’m obviously not a very nice person.”

  “Rubbish,” said Myles, trying to cheer her up, “it just means he’s a stupid dickhead who doesn’t appreciate what he’s got. Now take the bloody photo, Moneypenny, and get it over and done with. Call me back in ten.”

  And as Maggie took the photo of her husband, hand in hand with another woman, the reality of the situation became clear. As she watched them walk away, she realised with sadness that a huge chapter of her life was now well and truly over.

  CHAPTER 16

  Kyle looked at the clock: 12.45, maybe they could take an early lunch. He was desperate to have a go at making a smoothie with Kelsey and the NutriBullet. Kyle looked across at her; she looked especially gorgeous today, her dark hair piled up into a messy bun with loose strands softly framing her face. She suited green, it brought out the colour of her eyes.

  “Do you fancy trying this gadget out, then? I’ve brought some stuff with me. Thor told me what to put in.”

  Kelsey looked up and checked the clock.

  “Go on then, let’s give it a go. I’m not promising I’ll drink it, mind, what are you putting in it?”

  Kyle got up and picked up the box from the spare desk. “Lots of healthy stuff. Thor said it was an easy one to begin with, not too hardcore, just to get me started like. Are you coming?”

  Kelsey smiled. Kyle loved her smile and the dimple in her left cheek. “Yep, lead the way. I’ll bring my phone so I can send a photo to my pals.”

  In the staff kitchen, Kyle opened the box, took out the NutriBullet and arranged the various containers and blades on the worktop. “I think I’d better read the instructions,” he said, “although Thor said it was easy.”

  As Kyle read through the instructions, Kelsey looked at the pictures on the box.

  “I think that bit goes on top of the cup and then you just turn it upside down and put it on top of this bit. Not sure how you turn it on though.”

  “You just twist it,” said a voice behind them. “I’ve got one at home, dead easy.”

  Kelsey turned around; Kyle didn’t need to, he’d know that voice anywhere. The private school drawl belonged to Fraser, the graduate trainee straight out of Edinburgh university and, as far as Kyle was concerned, an arrogant twat.

  “Here, let me show you,” Fraser said confidently, brushing his floppy blond hair away from his chiselled and tanned face before taking the container from Kelsey. “Our rugby coach at uni made us get one, I use it all the time.”

  “You look like a rugby player,” replied Kelsey, apparently enthralled by both his accent and his hair. Kyle stayed silent.

  “Used to, given up now, too many injuries. Buggered up my knee. You see this bit, that goes on top of this, once you’ve got all your ingredients in.”

  “Yeah, rugby’s a very tough game, isn’t it?” continued Kelsey, suddenly completely disinterested in the workings of the NutriBullet. “Rugby’s very macho.”

  I thought you looked like an arrogant prick, thought Kyle to himself, his heart sinking as he watched Kelsey fall slowly under his spell. What was it about posh boys? Why did women fall for it? He probably had a different woman every week. Kyle inwardly sighed again as he watched Kelsey blush as Fraser smiled at her.

  “So, what are you putting in it?” continued Fraser, taking control. Kelsey looked at Kyle.

  “I don’t know,” she giggled pathetically “It’s Kyle’s, he’s got the stuff. He’s going to a personal trainer now to lose weight, aren’t you, Kyle?”

  Kyle wanted to disappear. Beside Fraser, the rugby-playing, public school Adonis, he had no chance. In fact, the very act of being in the same room as him, made Fraser look even more attractive to Kelsey as she compared him to the dull, overweight lump stood behind her.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, “trying to get fit again.”

  “Again?” asked Kelsey. “You never said you’d been fit. When was that?”

  “Good on you, mate,” smiled Fraser, ignoring Kelsey. “Did you play rugby too? You look like you could have done?”

  Kelsey looked at Kyle quizzically. “You never told me you played rugby.”

  “That’s because I didn’t. I played football. Used to play for St Johnston until I knackered my knee.”

  “Did you?” said Kelsey, suddenly impressed.

  “Yeah it’s a bugger when you get injured,” said Fraser, looking at Kyle. Kyle was surprised to hear that he sounded genuinely concerned. “There’s nothing worse than not being able to play. I got really down about it, pretty depressed actually, I put on loads of weight and started drinking too much. My mates got me back to the gym and I pulled myself out of it. Best thing when you’re in a rut is get yourself some exercise. If you need any advice or just want a chat, let me know.”

  “Thanks,” mumbled Kyle. Maybe he wasn’t quite so bad after all.

  “So, what’s going in this machine?” said Fraser, getting off the subject. “Is that spinach? Love spinach. Looks like a good combo for starters.”

  “My personal trainer told me what to get, he said this wasn’t too hardcore for starters.”

  “What’s going in it? I’m getting a bit worried now. I’m not sure I like spinach,” said Kelsey.

 
“Neither do I,” replied Kyle, “but Thor said we wouldn’t taste it if I added plenty of fruit. Look, there’s banana, apple, kiwi, some oats and some almond milk.”

  “Almond milk?” replied Kelsey astonished. “Can you get milk from almonds? I never knew that. What does it taste like? Oh, Kyle, I’m not sure about this.”

  “Right just chuck it all in,” continued Fraser authoritatively, “then add some of that almond milk and top it up to that line with water. Then put that blade on and tighten it.”

  Kyle did as he was instructed and turned it on.

  “Oh my god, it’s sludgy green,” grimaced Kelsey, looking alarmed.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll taste better than it looks,” replied Fraser. “OK, you can stop it, it’ll be done now, you can turn it off.”

  Kyle turned off the machine. Kelsey looked at the liquid nervously.

  “It looks gross,” she whispered. “It reminds me of when poor little Tumpy got diarrhoea that was green, it went everywhere. It got stuck in my laces and ruined my new trainers. I had to get a new pair.”

  Kyle and Fraser looked at her.

  “Whose Tumpy?” replied Kyle. It never ceased to amaze him what she came out with.

  “My gran’s wee doggie,” she replied. “You remember, I showed you the photo of him wearing his Christmas coat and hat I bought him, the purple tartan, you must remember? He looked so cute.”

  Kyle didn’t remember. She must have shown it to someone else. He couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t remember a dog in purple tartan.

  “Interesting name for a dog,” added Fraser, winking at Kyle. “What sort of dog is it?”

  “A bulldog, well, it’s a bulldog mixed with something. My gran rescued him. That’s why he’s called Tumpy, because she had a book when she was a bairn that had a dog in it that was fished out of the canal. It was called Tumpy, so that’s what she called it.”