“Bit embarrassing for a bulldog being called Tumpy though, isn’t it?” said Fraser unscrewing the blender and handing it to Kyle. “Not very macho.”
Kelsey looked at him quizzically. “It’s a dog,” she replied. “How’s he supposed to know it’s embarrassing. You could call him Arse-Face and he wouldn’t know it’s embarrassing, would he? Anyway, he’s a lovely wee doggie, well until he gets diarrhoea after he’s stuffed himself on grass. I keep telling my gran not to let him but she doesn’t listen, then I have to go round and help her clear it up cos she can’t bend down because she’s got dodgy knees too. You lot could all be in the dodgy knees club.”
Kyle poured the liquid into two cups, trying not to think about Tumpy’s diarrhoea. He had to agree with her, it didn’t look too enticing but there was no way he was going to wimp out in front of Fraser. He handed a cup to Kelsey who sniffed it cautiously.
“I suppose it smells like banana,” she said, sniffing it again. “It just looks like diarrhoea.”
“Just pretend it’s a cocktail and it’s got vodka in it,” said Fraser. “I bet you’d knock it back then.”
“Yeah well, it hasn’t got vodka in it, has it? It’s got weird green stuff and milk squeezed out of poor little almonds.”
Fraser and Kyle looked at each other. “Cheers,” said Kyle, raising his glass.
“Wait,” said Kelsey, suddenly animated. “Let’s get a selfie, so I can impress the girls. They’re never going to believe this.”
“Well they’d be right, you don’t like it,” replied Kyle, slightly annoyed that Fraser was obviously going to be in the selfie.
“Yes, I know, but they don’t know that,” giggled Kelsey. “Right, let me be in the middle. Sorry, we need to move, the light’s not good. Damn, I should have topped up my lippy. Right, ready?”
And as Kelsey took what seemed to be a million pouting selfies with her untouched smoothie, Kyle made the most of being in close proximity. Her hair smelt like strawberries. Hopefully she’d send him the photo. He could always crop Fraser out.
As they finally parted, Kyle raised his glass to Fraser and downed it in one. Surprisingly, it tasted half decent.
“See, not so bad is it?” said Fraser, grinning at Kyle as Kelsey, holding her nose, took a tiny sip. “I’ll text you some of the recipes we used in the rugby team if you like? I’ll come round to your desk and get your number. What gym do you go to?”
“Alpha. The one on Tarbert Street,” replied Kyle. “I’ve only just joined. Haven’t really used the gym yet.”
“Well if you want to go straight after work, I’m a member there too. I could share a few tips on building up your knee. If you fancy it, just let me know.”
“Thanks, I will,” replied Kyle, realising that he might have completely misjudged the guy. “Might make me go if you drag me there.”
“Oh, get you two,” interrupted Kelsey, still cautiously sipping the smoothie. “Kyle and Fraser, BFFs, gym buddies, so cute.”
Kyle looked at her. “Are you going to drink that or just look at it? I don’t want to waste it. If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”
“I’m sorry, Kyle,” she replied, handing him the glass, “if you ditch the spinach, I’ll try another one. I just can’t stop thinking of Tumpy’s diarrhoea.”
“Yeah well thanks to you, nor can I,” said Kyle, taking the glass from her. “I’ll make you a pink one next time.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “You’re so sweet.” And as he watched her wiggle her way out of the kitchen to buy something more appealing from the snack van outside, he wondered whether one day, he might just have a chance.
CHAPTER 17
As Maggie rinsed out the last of the water buckets in the yard, she turned as she heard Callum’s car on the gravel drive. It had hurt more than she thought, seeing him with another woman and it especially hurt seeing him smile and laugh, something he hadn’t done with her for the past couple of years. Had she really been that bad? Why hadn’t he said something and given her a chance to do something about it instead of just withdrawing into the arms of someone else? But then maybe she wouldn’t have listened, because she wouldn’t have wanted to. It was never easy looking at your own failings. Maggie didn’t like to fail. Placing the bucket firmly in its allotted space, Maggie wiped her hands on her jodhpurs and sighed. It was over, she realised that now, but if she was going to get out of this with both dignity and financial security intact, she would need to play a smart game. At least she had Myles, well she hoped she did; his track record wasn’t exactly ideal. Maybe she was being a complete idiot. She thought about the girls; for their sake she didn’t want it to get messy or humiliating. She would need to keep a clear head.
Looking out through the stable door, she watched him get out of the car. She wondered whether he’d just had lunch or whether he’d slept with “her” this afternoon, and as she pictured the possible scene, her stomach churned. Even though she’d slept with Myles and even though she wanted nothing else than to be with Myles, picturing Callum with someone else was still hard to take. Jealousy was a terrible trait. Locking the stable door behind her, Maggie headed for the house.
As she removed her boots and replaced them with the Gucci mules that Callum had bought her last Christmas, she smiled a wry smile. The girls had obviously chosen them, because they certainly made a statement and the fact that Callum had given her slippers for Christmas probably said more about their relationship than anything else. She had bought him an equally boring new briefcase. If only it could speak, she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, Maggie walked into the kitchen. Callum was putting the kettle on; a man of habit, he usually had tea before heading out with the dogs and, despite hearing her come in, he picked up the teapot and continued to ignore her as he opened the cupboard door, looking for a biscuit.
“You’re back early this evening,” said Maggie, as she turned on the kitchen tap and washed her hands. “I thought you’d still be drinking in Dawson’s.”
“Why would I still be in Dawson’s? Are you insinuating that I would spend a whole day in a bloody wine bar? Christ, how do you get into these damn things?” he said irritably as he wrestled with the impenetrable packaging of the chocolate biscuits. Maggie, fighting with herself to stay calm, dried her hands and then took out the scissors from the kitchen drawer. “Here,” she said quietly. “Put them in the biscuit container when you’ve opened them, please.” Callum took the scissors and opened the offending biscuits.
“Well I thought you’d be meeting the boys for lunch today?” Maggie continued, trying to sound casual as she unnecessarily rearranged the fruit bowl. Callum returned the scissors. “I was talking to Christie and she said Mike was planning a big lunch. I thought she said it was someone’s birthday but I might have got that wrong. They’re supposed to be going out this evening too but she was worried that he’d be paralytic after lunch. I just assumed you’d be going.”
“Didn’t fancy it,” replied Callum, still not looking at her as he took out four chocolate biscuits. “I’m shattered and I’ve got a lot on at work. I didn’t have time for lunch.”
“So, you didn’t have lunch, you poor old thing,” replied Maggie, not being able to help herself. “No wonder you’re starving. Don’t worry, I’ve got a huge rump steak in the fridge, I was going to give it to you tomorrow but you can have it tonight. I know how you like a bit of rump, darling. What time do you want to eat?”
“Not for a while,” mumbled Callum, clearly recalling the steak he’d had for lunch. “I grabbed a sandwich from the garage when I filled up with petrol. I’m not ready for food yet. I don’t want to eat for a couple of hours.”
“No problem,” smiled Maggie dutifully, wanting to shove the biscuits down his throat. “The steak won’t take long. I’ll have it ready for eight. It’s muddy over the fields by the way, you’ll need your boots on.” Maggie stroked one of the labs gently as it sat obediently beside the Aga. “They’ll need a good walk, I didn’t have a lot
of time today, poor darlings.”
“Why, what were you up to?” replied Callum, not sounding particularly interested. Maggie could tell he wasn’t listening as he flicked through the newspaper on the table.
“I went to pole dancing classes,” said Maggie.
“Good,” replied Callum, obviously finding the sports pages far more interesting.
“They’ve offered me a job,” she continued calmly.
“That’s good,” replied Callum again, completely absorbed in both the football and the chocolate biscuit.
“And then I had sex with one of your friends in a hotel room.”
As the words left her mouth, Maggie froze. Callum didn’t reply. Unable to retract them, her words hung agonisingly in the air.
“Good,” replied Callum. closing the newspaper and taking another mouthful of tea. “Busy day then. Right, come on, guys, I’ll get my boots on and well go for a walk.”
* * *
Furious, Maggie watched him as he walked across the yard. He actually hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. He’d probably been doing it for years. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realised that she was actually having sex with one of his friends, although how he would react to it being Myles Cavendish, didn’t bear thinking about. Turning away from the window she walked over to the fridge and took out the steak. It was huge, the largest the butcher had available. She’d enjoy watching him plough his way through that later. Placing the tray on the kitchen table, she stopped. Callum, too busy stuffing his pockets with more biscuits, had left his precious phone on the table. She stared at it. Maybe this was her chance; he never left it lying around. Picking it up, she walked to the window. He obviously hadn’t noticed yet as she could see him disappearing over the back field. If she was going to try and get into it at all, the time was now. Her heart pounding, Maggie entered the code that Myles had told her and, unbelievably, it worked. She couldn’t believe it; what an idiotic passcode. Terrified, and with her hands shaking, she took another look out of the window. It wouldn’t be long before he realised. The time was definitely now. Clutching her treasure, Maggie ran from the kitchen and, picking up her own phone to take photos, she fled upstairs and locked herself in the sanctuary of her bathroom.
* * *
Thor looked at the clock. It was only just past six and he’d already run out of things to do. His records and notes were up to date, his class plans and schedules were completed and logged. He checked his phone. No messages. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d not got a plan for a Friday night. To be fair, he didn’t usually go too mad on a Friday as he always had a 9.00am class on a Saturday morning, as well as a few training sessions. If he was honest, that was part of the problem. As his mates had carried on drinking themselves into oblivion on a Friday night, he had slowly become an outsider. They didn’t want to go out with a “boring tosser”, as one of his best mates had so eloquently put it a few weeks ago, as he’d declined the vodka shots for the fifth time that evening. He had thought about changing his schedule, but that’s not what his clients wanted or, more importantly, needed. And, if he was really honest with himself, the thought of writing off a Saturday with a hangover like he used to, no longer held much appeal. Briefly, he thought about phoning Jess but, with Barbara’s words of wisdom still hanging over him, decided against it. If he did call her, it would be for all the wrong reasons, he knew that. It wasn’t worth it. It would only cause more hassle. Picking up his bag and phone, Thor left the storage cupboard at the gym that doubled as his office. He would download a film, try to ignore his phone and get an early night. He’d need to get a plan for tomorrow night though. One night was OK. Two nights would be the slippery slope to middle age.
As he walked towards the car, his phone beeped. It was Jess:
What you up to?
Briefly, Thor hesitated, Barbara would kill him. But it was Friday night. Getting in the car, he called her back.
CHAPTER 18
Locked in her bathroom, Maggie opened Callum’s messages. Her name was Emma. Emma Balfour. The messages were brief, disguised as professional but obvious if you knew what was going on. She was probably married too and Maggie wondered whether she had children and how old she was. Maggie was trembling. Part of her didn’t want to read the messages but her curiosity as to Emma’s attraction, forced her to continue. She was a professional, that’s obviously how they had met, maybe something to do with financial law by the sound of it. Maggie opened his emails, maybe they would enlighten her further. She put Emma into Google. Financial Consultants. Well that could be useful, thought Maggie, maybe I should contact her for financial advice in preparation for my husband leaving me. Scrolling back, Maggie looked for a timeline and then sighed as she realised that the emails went back to the end of July. He hadn’t been having an affair in June when he’d been on the golf trip. Emma wasn’t on the scene when he’d tried to kill himself. She was the guilty party. Life with her and overload at work had obviously pushed him over the edge and she’d slept with Myles Cavendish first. He’d probably met Emma at the July Law conference and it was obviously proving to be the best therapy for treating his depression. Shaking, Maggie continued to read through the emails. She couldn’t help herself. She knew it was probably a bad move; eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves as her mother used to say, and curiosity could definitely kill the cat, but in Maggie’s world, forewarned was definitely forearmed. Maggie sighed. So much affection, the type of affection she wasn’t sure she had ever received from Callum, and as she continued to scroll through, she wondered whether he had ever really loved her. She certainly couldn’t remember him smiling at her the way he’d smiled at Emma Balfour this morning. As the phone suddenly pinged a message, Maggie jumped. As tempting as it was, she knew she couldn’t open it, but she caught the first line. They obviously messaged each other when he took the dogs for a walk, and if that was the case, she realised with horror, that he’d soon be back looking for his phone. Panicking, Maggie closed the emails and quietly opened the bathroom door. She could hear him in the kitchen. With a pounding heart she raced down the stairs and, placing his phone quietly on the hall table beside his brief case, she took a deep breath and walked casually into the kitchen.
“You’re back quickly, is something wrong?” she asked, trying desperately not to sound out of breath. Irritated, Callum was shifting papers around on the kitchen table.
“I can’t find my phone, I thought I left it on the table.”
Maggie pretended to help.
“I didn’t see it,” she lied. “Why do you need it anyway? You should really try and switch off when you get home, you shouldn’t be looking at your phone. You should be trying to relax, isn’t that what Doctor Mason told you?”
Callum didn’t reply.
“I’m sure I left it here,” he mumbled, obviously agitated.
“Have you checked your pockets?” continued Maggie “When did you have it last?”
“Of course I have,” snapped Callum, “and if I knew that, I’d be able to find it, wouldn’t I? For Christ’s sake, what have I done with it?” Callum checked his pockets again.
“Are you expecting a call?”
“Yes, I need to sign off some papers and Tom wanted to run something past me first.”
Liar.
“Have you tried your briefcase?” She replied sweetly, “Do you want me to look?”
“No!” snapped Callum, heading for the hallway. “It’s fine, I’ll look myself thanks.”
Maggie waited for him to return and, as he walked into the kitchen, he was obviously reading the message. “Oh, you’ve found it,” she said patronisingly. “Well done. Was it in your briefcase? I knew it would be.”
“It was on the hall table,” replied Callum.
“Where you left it,” said Maggie. “That’s good. Are you going back out?”
“Of course we are,” replied Callum, placing his phone in his pocket. “We didn’t get very far, did we, girls?”
>
The labs wagged their tails, relieved that the walk wasn’t yet over. “I’ll be an hour probably, I need the fresh air.”
Yes, I bet you do, thought Maggie to herself as Callum left the kitchen, especially as you’ve been cooped up in your bloody love shack all afternoon. She was desperate for a gin and tonic. Maybe one would be OK; she wasn’t due a weigh-in until next Wednesday, one wouldn’t hurt. Maggie opened the fridge and took out a bottle of tonic but, as she placed it on the worktop, she visualised Myles. She had to stick to the plan. She needed to get into shape and she’d promised Rachael that she wouldn’t drink this weekend. She couldn’t expect Rachael to stick to the plan if she didn’t. And, ultimately, she would have to face Thor and his scales of doom that he’d promised her would never lie. If she wanted to get fit and lose a few pounds, she would have to do it for herself. Thor was there to guide her, he’d said, but ultimately, he couldn’t do it for her. “Progress each day adds up to big results,” whispered Maggie to herself as she put the tonic back in the fridge. Drink wasn’t the answer, she knew that. Drink had destroyed her mother. A lonely military life, living abroad, Gin had become her comforter. She could see the family pattern repeating itself. She needed to avoid that path at all costs. Maggie walked over to the window and watched Callum as he headed back across the east paddock. Obviously glued to his phone, she grinned as he walked into one of the practice jumps and slipped on the mud. I can’t wait till you find out about me, she thought to herself, you won’t be so bloody arrogant then. And, turning away from the window, she went to find her phone to call Myles.
* * *
Rather than go straight home after work, Kyle had opted to go via the gym. He wasn’t planning on going mad, as he’d promised he’d go to the circuits class in the morning, but he knew if he made a start, he was more likely to stick to it. He wasn’t really sure how to tackle the equipment, but he had to get over being embarrassed. At the moment he was fat and un-dateable, and if he was ever going to have a chance with Kelsey, he had to change. Going straight to the gym also took his mind off food, and he had quickly realised that if he exercised, he didn’t crave the crap. Somehow, exercise made him want to eat better. Fraser had inspired him today too and he felt guilty about misjudging him. He was still a posh boy but it was comforting to realise that he’d also had his challenges, and he’d seemed pretty genuine about helping him.
Trust Me, I’m a Personal Trainer Page 9