“Morning,” said a voice behind her. “You’re in early. Good weekend?” It was Callum Dunbar.
“Oh hi, Callum,” replied Jess. Callum was nice, always polite and not a letch like some of the other partners. “Not really, did you?”
“That makes two of us,” he replied, throwing a tea bag into his mug. “How’s the love life? Have you managed to sort things out?”
“It’s not,” said Jess, trying not to cry. “I think I’m single again.”
“Is this the same guy you told me about last week, the one you’ve been seeing for a while?”
“Yeah, on and off. We just always end up arguing though, it’s pointless really. I need to find someone else.”
Callum removed the tea bag and added one spoonful of sugar. He usually had two but Maggie had hit a nerve when she’d mentioned his weight and Emma was a good bit younger. Maybe he did need to watch his diet.
“What do you argue about?” he continued politely, not really listening. He needed to message Emma.
“His job mainly,” replied Jess. “It takes up all his time. We can’t even go out for a laugh on a Friday night because he has to work on Saturday. He wouldn’t even share a bottle of wine on Friday night, it’s so boring.”
“A lot of people work on Saturdays though,” he replied, eyeing the croissant enviously as Jess took it out of the bag. “That’s not really his fault.”
Jess took a mouthful of the croissant and Callum couldn’t help but notice the buttery flake resting precariously on her bottom lip. The pink gloss was very attractive.
“I suppose not, but I also don’t know if I trust him with all those women. He says I’m being ridiculous but a lot of them are middle-aged, sorry, no offence, and I bet they’re offering it on a plate. They’re probably all desperate and hate their husbands. I’ve read about it in magazines, women having mid-life crises, wanting to get in back in shape to have an affair or their husbands are divorcing them for a younger model.”
Callum was intrigued. “What does he do again?”
“He’s a personal trainer. He runs his own business.”
“Oh does he?” replied Callum, suddenly very interested. “Where does he work? A friend of mine’s wife has started going to a PT, what’s his name again? Sorry, you did tell me before but I’ve forgotten.”
“Thor, Thor Thorogood. Bloody stupid name too, his mum must have been on drugs. Who the hell names their kid Thor?”
“Same guy,” replied Callum. He couldn’t believe the coincidence. “I wonder if he knows her?”
“He wouldn’t say even if he did,” she answered, licking the croissant flake off of her lip. “Everything’s confidential, he won’t tell me anything. It’s very convenient to hide behind if you’re shagging some of your clients, isn’t it?”
“Difficult,” replied Callum, “I’m not sure how you deal with that one, but if you don’t trust him there’s probably not much point, is there? I wouldn’t worry about it, there’s plenty more fish in the sea. You’re young enough yet, trust me, you don’t want to go rushing into marriage, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Anyway, I’ve got a meeting at ten, can you take minutes for me please?”
“No problem,” Jess replied, sighing again. She’d heard all those clichés before. It never helped. “I’ll see you at ten.”
As Callum left the kitchen and returned to his office, his brain was working overtime. He’d no idea that the gorgeous Jess’s on-off boyfriend was none other than the personal trainer he’d convinced himself his wife was having sex with. Well and Rex’s wife. What he saw in them when he had Jess, he had no idea and they probably weren’t the only ones. He was surprised at Maggie though, he wouldn’t have thought a personal trainer was her style. But then again, you never knew with women, sometimes they found the most bizarre things attractive in men, and sometimes the more unsuitable they were, the more attractive they became. There was often no logic to their selection unless you factored in revenge or a large bank account. Myles Cavendish was a prime example. Women always fell for his roguish charm, but he couldn’t keep them once they realised what an arse he was.
Sitting down at his desk, Callum took a sip of tea. God, with one sugar, it didn’t taste that great. He thought about Emma. She wasn’t putting any pressure on him, but he could tell she was keen to move their relationship forward. She didn’t have kids to think about though; she was pretty self-sufficient and her husband was abroad most of the time. He had three girls at private school and, shortly, several years of university fees to manage. He’d still have to support them, provide for Maggie and give Emma a decent lifestyle. He wondered whether she would still be attracted to him if he was broke. Maggie wouldn’t let the house and stables go, he knew she’d fight for that; she wouldn’t want to curtail her lifestyle and he wouldn’t be able to justify it to the girls, especially when they found out about Emma. He wondered how they would take it. They would probably hate her, Maggie would see to that. But, if he could prove that Maggie was no innocent either, he might have grounds for a more evenly distributed settlement and a chance to slightly redeem himself with the girls. But he needed to find out more. He needed to find out whether Thor was offering Maggie more than he was advertising. Jess was right, his confidentiality clause was very convenient, but as Callum well knew, confidentiality could so easily be broken in a weak moment. He needed to formulate a proper plan.
Finishing his tea, Callum picked up his mobile and called Rex.
“Hey, Dunbar,” said Rex loudly, almost shouting like an excited schoolboy. “How are you, pal? We’ve missed you. You haven’t been to Dawson’s for ages.”
“Been busy, Rex, some of us work for a living.”
Rex laughed. “Yeah, don’t give me that shite, we all know you’re shagging some bird. Fair play, pal, never thought you had it in you.”
Callum was briefly taken by surprise. He’d trusted Mike and Steve and he couldn’t believe they’d told Rex; Rex couldn’t keep anything secret. Deciding it was best not to rise to it, he quickly deflected the accusation.
“Christ, you don’t change, still spouting complete bollocks. How’s life, anyway?”
“Pretty crap,” replied Rex. “Rachael still wants a divorce, but I’m not having it. Mind you, I don’t know why I’m putting up a fight cos she won’t let me anywhere near her. Haven’t had a shag in ages. I’ve forgotten what it’s for.”
“That’s probably because she’s getting what she needs from that bullshit personal trainer they’re going to. Maggie’s bloody obsessed.”
Rex was delighted to suddenly have a pal on his side.
“I know, Rachael fucking loves him: Thor says this, Thor says that. She’s started wearing pink Lycra and living on beans and green stuff. She’s even stopped drinking. I bet he’s a twat.”
“Clever one though,” replied Callum. “But I’ve got a plan. Meet me at Dawson’s at one and I’ll go through it with you.”
“Don’t need any excuse for that, pal, I’m up for that.”
“Good, see you there.”
And as Callum hung up, he actually felt a little excited. Maggie had managed to outmanoeuvre him all their married life and he was sick of it. He wasn’t even sure why he’d married her in the first place apart from his mother thinking that she’d be the perfect wife for a country lawyer. His mother wasn’t to be trifled with either and he’d gone along with it, and in some ways she’d been right. Maggie had been the dutiful wife. She’d raised money for charity, ran the church choir, saved the village shop from closing down with her campaigning skills; the list was endless. Maggie had played the part to perfection. But as her list of requirements to fulfil her role grew, so they’d grown apart, as inevitably he’d begun to buckle under her ever-increasing financial demands. All he seemed to do was give and as far as he was concerned, he’d got nothing in return. Yes, they’d still slept together but even then, he’d felt inadequate. Maggie could have that effect on you, if you let her. But then he’d met Emma and Em
ma had made him feel like a man again, and if he was going to keep her, and his girls, it was time to put up a decent fight. Whether Rex would manage to go along with it though, was the big question. If he was really honest, he’d probably have divorced him years ago if he was Rachael, but with male pride at stake, it was now time for the boys to stick together against the young usurper. If Maggie thought she could outsmart him this time, she was in for a very unpleasant surprise.
* * *
Typing up his notes from the morning sessions, Thor thought about Rachael. He didn’t like seeing women cry and it disturbed him that he seemed to be dealing with more and more clients stuck in increasingly unhappy marriages. It wasn’t just women; the blokes couldn’t sort themselves out either. He wondered whether this was the norm and why none of them seemed to be able to work things out and why they could talk to him but couldn’t seem to be able to talk to their partners; the people that they should be closer to than anyone else. Thor wondered what it was with relationships and whether everyone was struggling. Barbara was probably right, with all the social media stuff and reality TV, expectations were probably too high. Relationships were never straightforward, she’d said; even if you found the right one you still had to learn how to handle it. People these days didn’t want to compromise, they wanted everything to be perfect, but life wasn’t like that. Thor sighed. Maybe he was just seeing the downside, surely there had to be an equal number of good relationships, but if what he was seeing was common, then if he and Jess couldn’t hit it off now, they had absolutely no chance of lasting into the future. Sighing again, he put down his pen and stared at the poster on his wall. “The past cannot be changed. The future is yet in your power.” The girl in the poster looked like Jess, he’d chosen it for that reason. It was tough, but he was right to finish it now and put them both out of their misery.
He looked at the clock. He had another session with Barbara this morning, who had been busy planning her next hike in Patagonia. He wouldn’t tell her about Jess. He didn’t need the “I told you so” chat this morning. He’d concentrate on his business from now on. It had to be a whole lot easier.
CHAPTER 25
The atmosphere in the staff canteen was jovial as Rachael walked in at break time, and as she eyed the balloons and the very large cake, she realised that it was someone’s birthday. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought twice about helping herself to a large portion, although she would have tried to give the icing a miss in a pathetic attempt to reduce what she guessed was enough calories to feed a small family. Rachael stared at the cake. It looked good, albeit slightly garish, a three-tier extravaganza of chocolate and strawberry with purple icing flowers and an orange-tinted cream filling. It was obviously homemade. Being sixty had definitely gone to ‘Gwen in the men’s department’s’ head. Staring at it, Rachael wondered how on earth she’d managed to get it to work on the bus. Marnie, unsurprisingly, was already getting stuck in, once again adding calories to her ever increasing waistline. As Rachael crossed the room, she handed her a plate.
“It’s Gwen’s sixtieth,” she said through a mouthful of purple icing, “she made it herself, it’s bloody gorgeous. I’ve never made a cake in my life. I was banned from Home Ec. at school for putting Polyfilla in Cathy McGibbon’s Victoria sponge. I hated that bitch; she put my Madonna bomber jacket in one of the upper schools’ toilets, but Miss Davis said there wasn’t any evidence and still threw me out. Miss Davis said I could have killed her, which was complete shite. I just wanted to glue her gob shut. She hated me, but we all knew she fancied Cathy McGibbon because she had big tits. Here, I got you a big bit.”
Rachael took the cake. Why had life become such a battle, a constant fight with her willpower which wasn’t always up to the job. Rachael looked at the cake. It was a huge portion. It probably contained more calories than she’d worked off this morning. No wonder Marnie never lost any weight. Maybe if she put it down on the table while she made herself a cup of tea, she could quietly forget about it, slip away and hope that no one would notice. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she looked around the room for a suitable surface but, before she could make a move, Marnie – as usual, made herself – heard.
“Gwen, your cake’s bloody delicious, pet,” she shouted to the birthday girl, who turned and waved with the self-conscious but grateful smile of one not used to compliments. “It is, isn’t it? Come on, Rach, you haven’t tried it yet. The butter icing’s ace.”
Gwen smiled at Rachael. There was no way out. Gwen was expecting another compliment. Compliments were as rare as hen’s teeth in Gwen’s lonely world of TV soaps and gardening. Rachael sighed. She would have to give in. She’d lost weight this week and if she skipped lunch, she could easily get back on track. She wouldn’t be able to tell Amy that she’d strayed so quickly from the vegan path though and Thor needn’t know. By the time she was weighed again Gwen’s cake would be a distant memory, besides, surely it was the overall calorie intake that mattered. She looked over again at Gwen, who was still waiting. It would be too unkind to refuse.
“It’s lovely, Gwen,” she said through an orange mouthful. “Really yummy, well done. Happy birthday, my love.” Glowing with pride, Gwen broke into a toothy grin.
“Oh thanks, pet,” replied Gwen, “I just made it up. I’m not really a baker but I’ll save you a slice for lunchtime and we can have a cuppa together.”
And as Gwen disappeared to wrap up another kilo’s worth of calories for Rachael’s lunch, she sighed and resigned herself to yet another plate of salad for dinner.
* * *
Dawson’s was busy for a Monday lunchtime and Callum wasn’t surprised to see Rex happily propping up the bar. Already nursing a pint, he signalled to Callum.
“You wanting a pint, pal?” he asked as Callum came within earshot, “although it’s so long since I’ve seen you, I can’t remember what you drink.”
“Yeah, a pint’s fine, thanks. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon though so one’s my limit. How are you anyway? Business still intact?”
Rex grinned as he signalled to the barman. “Just about,” he replied. “You know how it is.”
Callum waited for the pint and Rex looked around for a table. “Yes, well, it might not be if Rachael takes you to the cleaners.”
“How do you mean?” said Rex, following Callum to a recently vacated table.
“Well when she divorces you.”
“Oh she doesn’t mean it,” laughed Rex, sitting down, “She talks a good game, but she won’t do it. Where’s she going to go? She can’t afford it either.”
“Well she doesn’t have to go anywhere, she could stay in the house or you’ll have to sell up and try and fund two places.”
Rex took a mouthful of lager. “I still don’t think she’ll leave me.”
Callum looked at him. He was an idiot sometimes, his alcohol-infused bravado masking a host of insecurities. But he was a likeable idiot.
“I’m not so sure, mate, I think Rachael and Maggie are on a mission. Why else would they both start going to a male personal trainer? Christ, they’ve never been anywhere near a gym before. They’re definitely up to something and if they’re both shagging this Thor bloke, we need to catch them at it. They’re making us a laughing stock.”
“Are they?” replied Rex, confused. “Do the lads know?”
“Probably. They’ll have told Christie and Lucy, so Steve and Mike will probably know. Anyway, I’ve got a plan.”
“For what?” said Rex, still confused. He had no idea what was going on, but the fact that Callum had asked to meet him for a pint made him think that it was quite serious.
“To catch them out,” continued Callum.
“What are you going to do?” laughed Rex. “Hire a private detective?”
“Better,” replied Callum. “Were hiring a personal trainer, me and you, we’re signing up to a few sessions with that bloody trainer of theirs. If he’s having sex with my wife, and yours too, we need to know about it. And,
if he is, I’ll make sure his bloody façade of a personal training business doesn’t last too long.”
Rex looked at him. For once he was actually concentrating.
“You are joking, aren’t you?” he said, putting down and his beer. Callum didn’t appear to be finding anything funny.
“You and me, sign up to a personal trainer?”
Callum didn’t reply.
“You’re not joking, are you? You can’t be fucking serious, Dunbar,” said Rex, lowering his voice. “Look at us both. We’ll fucking die.”
“Course we won’t. It’s the only way to catch them out.”
“No it isn’t, we can follow them or hire a detective. I don’t get what you’re trying to do. If he’s shagging Rachael, he’s hardly going to tell me about it, is he?”
“Correct, but when we sign up we say we’re trying to get fit because we think our wives are having an affair and that we’re planning to leave them before they leave us, but we sign up under our real names so that he knows who we are. Then we see if he can keep what we’ve said from Maggie and Rachael, and not tell us what Maggie and Rachael have told him. Do you get me?”
Rex was now completely confused. “Sorry, mate, I just don’t get where this is going other than me breathing my fucking last. I think you’ve lost the plot. If it means me having to go through boot camp to stop Rachael leaving me then I’m throwing in the towel. If I have to kill myself to get her back, it’s seriously not worth it.
Callum looked at him. Thankfully Rex didn’t know that he’d attempted suicide.
“So what are you going to do when she does leave you and you’re broke because you’re paying for two flats, well three if you include Amy’s, and you can’t even boil a fucking egg? No woman in her right mind is going to take you on, mate. We’re not getting any younger, pal, and we’re getting older and fatter. We need to up our game.”
Trust Me, I’m a Personal Trainer Page 13