Straight After the Bend

by S M Mala

  Straight after the bend

  S M Mala

  Published by S M Mala

  Copyright © S M Mala 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication is to be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including photocopying, recording or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Visit my website: www.smmala.com to see other titles.

  All helpful advice and genuine comments are welcome.

  And if you liked what you read then please review on Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk or Goodreads.com. All positive comments are deeply appreciated.

  ISBN: 978-0-9928364-9-8

  ‘I’m going to cry!’

  Bea wasn’t joking. Her leg was painful to walk on. ‘I feel like an elderly woman.’

  Her doctor was staring, not even examining the damage.

  ‘And you did what?’ Dr Hobbs asked again, flicking his long, light brown hair. He was in his mid-twenties and seemed to find his appointments with her very amusing. ‘The cross trainer?’

  ‘I was doing exercise which you forced me to take up for health reasons,’ she hissed, bending her leg. ‘And I was watching something on the television which made me slip and fall off.’

  He laughed as she scowled.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ Bea continued and bit her lip hard. ‘I need to walk. It’s important.’

  ‘Beatrice, I told you I would arrange for you to see an osteopath years ago.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And it seems that when stressed or upset your pain gets worse.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Like a few years back.’

  ‘This is real as it was then,’ she replied, knowing what he was insinuating. ‘Unless you think it’s all in my head.’

  ‘Stress and the body go hand in hand.’

  ‘This is really painful so much so I came back to see you.’

  ‘You were supposed to come back to me after you spoke to your private health provider but you never did.’

  ‘Well, that’s good.’ Bea grimaced in pain knowing she avoided seeing her GP because she was all too aware about his theory regarding her leg. ‘Shows I haven’t been ill.’

  ‘You need to get it sorted and we need to get to the root of the cause.’ Dr Hobbs eyed her suspiciously. ‘From what you’re saying the sciatica has flared up and it’s worse than ever. And your discs might be degenerating which means the pain could get extremely uncomfortable.’

  ‘It can’t get any worse than it is!’ she yelled. ‘I can’t walk!’

  ‘Medication and an osteopath is what you need. Now I’m putting you on a mild painkiller that will stop the nerve inflammation for the time being,’ he said, typing something on his computer before pressing the print button. ‘And I am also referring you to a clinic down the road.’

  ‘I can’t afford it!’ she said, bending her leg and knowing she would have to walk out of the surgery dragging her left foot behind.

  ‘You have private health insurance,’ he said accusing.

  ‘I don’t want to use that up until I’m really ill.’

  ‘Beatrice, this is serious and if you don’t get the sciatica treated it’s only going to flare up. You’re not young as you used to be. You’re nearly thirty five.’

  ‘I’m only thirty four and my birthday is not until January.’

  ‘My point exactly. It will only get worse as you get older.’

  ‘How old are you again? Twenty eight? But a mere child,’ she mumbled knowing he had heard her. ‘You said that about my cholesterol. Well, that’s gone down.’

  ‘And so did you on the cross-trainer!’ he replied, laughing at his own joke. ‘Call your health provider and here’s the number for the clinic.’ Dr Hobbs then hesitated. ‘You do know who your health provider is, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ll find out,’ she shrugged, taking the paper out of his hand. ‘How long before I can go back to the gym and take up Pilates again?’ Her comment amused the doctor. ‘I’ve been doing exercise. I do listen.’

  ‘Ask your osteopath. I’m referring you to Dr Kearney for your first consultation. You can ask him. Just take the tablets; one in the morning and one in the evening after every meal and if you need pain relief, use paracetamol. I’ll see you in a month to check if there’s any improvement.’ Then he hesitated. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing else wrong that’s activating this?’

  ‘All is good.’

  ‘I’m your doctor, you can talk to me.’

  ‘I just did about my sporting accident and you laughed.’

  Which he proceeded to do as she limped out of his office.

  Hobbling away from the practice and down the ramp, Bea couldn’t feel the left side and heel of her left foot. The back of her leg was constricted by the pain of the nerve.

  She glanced at her reflection in the window and frowned.

  Her short, wavy, dark bobbed hair that hung by her shoulders was all over the place and she had a shiny nose. Plus there was a deep frown in the middle of her forehead.

  That she knew was down to pain.

  Feeling disgruntled by her appearance, she would take a closer look when inside the chemist.

  Then she heard the sound of the Hari Krishna group coming down the road and hid.

  That was the last thing she needed.

  She waited and then hobbled to the first chemist she could get to. Handing her prescription over, she stood by the beauty products and took a good look in the mirror.

  Age was certainly catching up with her.

  Bea looked like she was in need of a good night’s sleep.

  There were dark rings under her intense brown eyes and her usual shiny cocoa brown skin looked like it had been badly sanded leaving a dull, grey layer.

  Even her lips were cracked and sore.

  It wasn’t nice.

  ‘Is it any wonder no-one’s interested other than desperate old men?’ she whispered and caught the eye of a young, female, Polish shop assistant, who seemed to be nodding in agreement.

  Getting her medicine along with a new lip salve, Bea hobbled to a coffee shop down the road. It was near the clinic Dr Hobbs recommended. That’s when she checked it out; all shiny and new. They also did massages.

  Bea would have preferred that than to someone inflicting more pain on her body.

  As she walked past the book shop down the end of her road, she noticed the coffee table book by photographer Jonah Bauer titled ‘Bitter Sweet Kisses’. The cover was a picture of a new born baby in her mother’s arms.

  She wondered if that would happen to her.

  Marriage and motherhood.

  Ordering a cappuccino and sitting down, she stared at the glass building and closed her eyes.

  Right now, she would have loved to call up her mother about her current woes.

  How she would have laughed about her falling off the cross trainer and being semi paralysed when doing a Pilates class due to pain. Bea pretended she was stretching while sprawled on the floor, when in fact she was internally screaming.

  Trying to discreetly hobble out of that was a very difficult thing to do.

  But she couldn’t speak to her mum.

  She had died twenty months ago and this had left Bea with a heavy heart and soul, because she missed her so much, it hurt.

  And time hadn’t healed her pain.

  ‘The pain’s unbearable!’

  Bea was in the local French bistro, sat by the bar at a
small table. She was with her good friend Anne-Marie. ‘I feel like an old woman.’

  Anne-Marie started to laugh, her sparkling flirtatious one that she used when her husband, Dave, was babysitting the kids; two boys aged eleven and nine. She had wispy blonde hair with a thick fringe and blue eyes, highlighting her pretty face. Due to her love of exercise, she was slim, toned and healthy.

  The opposite of how Bea was feeling right now.

  ‘You’ve obviously clocked someone,’ Bea said, looking at the bottom of her large glass of red wine. ‘And I bet you get asked out even though you’re taken.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to refuse and pass them onto you,’ she replied, grinning brightly. ‘Over there. A mixed group of people and one of them is drop dead gorgeous. Dark hair and pretty eyes.’

  ‘Probably married or gay or both,’ mumbled Bea, not bothering to look. ‘The last time I met someone in a bar, I got engaged and-.’

  ‘For the second time in your life. I’ve only been engaged once.’

  ‘Yeah but you got married, whereas I didn’t get anywhere.’

  ‘For one of them you were too young and the other, well, he wasn’t right.’

  ‘Simeon,’ Bea said, letting out a little groan. ‘He sent me an email saying he got married.’ Right then, she didn’t want to look at Anne-Marie’s surprised expression. ‘It was a few weeks ago but with this sports injury I forgot.’

  ‘Hold on a minute!’ Anne-Marie said, sitting up straight. ‘Firstly, that’s not something you drop into a conversation and sports injury! You fell off a bloody cross trainer because you were laughing at an advert regarding hair removal. Not to mention trying to do a Pilates class and failing dismally at it. That’s not a sports injury.’

  ‘It was in the gym so therefore it’s a sport,’ she smiled into her wine before taking a sip. ‘And Simeon has a right to move on.’

  ‘He walked out on you the day after your mother’s funeral,’ whispered Anne-Marie, bending down to make eye contact. ‘So boy, did he move!’

  Bea looked at her friend and smiled.

  Simeon had suffered when her mother became ill and it got too much for him. Bea knew the relationship had hit the rocks a year earlier, mainly when she realised she didn’t love him.

  He wasn’t the man for her yet again.

  Being kind, she told him to call it a day before her mother died, saying it was him who wasn’t happy, therefore deflecting it was her decision.

  Being a good man, he stood by her side until they cremated her mother.

  It was the kindest thing to do, letting him go, to find love with someone else.

  And he did.

  Within a month of them splitting up.

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ Anne-Marie said, leaning closer. ‘That deep in thought, secretive look that makes me wonder what’s going on in your head.’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Bea?’

  ‘Just stuff.’

  ‘I think you need to find happiness because all sorts of things are going wrong, like your sustained sports injury.’ Anne-Marie grinned. ‘You do realise the pain flares up when you’re upset about something.’

  ‘Not you too! That bloody doctor of mine implied the same thing. This is real.’

  ‘Not in the mind?’

  ‘It’s in my bloody leg!’

  ‘Your body is telling you that you need to stop and think about things.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ Bea sat up straight and knocked back her drink. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You’re not and-.’

  ‘Same again?’ Wanting to change the subject because it was still too raw, she got up and looked down at Anne-Marie’s concerned face. ‘I don’t want to get over it because she’s gone.’

  ‘I know, Bea.’

  ‘And I can’t face physical pain let alone emotional.’

  ‘Check out that guy standing by the bar,’ Anne-Marie said, smiling brightly. ‘He’s pretty gorgeous. I’ll get off your back about your mental well-being if you do something for me.’

  ‘What about my mental well-being?’

  ‘Bea, you still have conversations.’

  ‘That’s how I think,’ she lied, knowing Anne-Marie thought something more of it. ‘Lots of people talk to themselves.’

  ‘But you’re not talking to yourself, are you?’

  ‘Thanks for the moral support.’ Turning around there was a man with short dark hair and few days’ stubble. There were small hoop ear-rings in his ears. Bea figured he was definitely not straight, because he was too pretty and chatting to a good looking guy standing next to him. ‘I see him in my coffee shop. I think Erio would fancy him.’

  ‘Erio fancies anyone good looking, boy or girl,’ sighed Anne-Marie. ‘Sometimes I think he has the right idea.’

  He was their bisexual, party organising, friend. Currently Erio was wooing some beautiful heiress he had met.

  Or her brother.

  He wasn’t being quite clear about which one.

  Bea thought he was greedy but he accused her of being uptight and not having a wider range of emotions, let alone understanding things outside her grasp.

  Sometimes she figured he was right.

  ‘So you want to sleep with a woman, do you Anne-Marie? Is this you trying to wine and dine me?’

  ‘It would take half a can of cider and a packet of sour cream and chive pretzels to pull you!’ she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I’m a meat and two veg sort of girl.’

  ‘Me too but of late, I’m turning vegetarian, mainly because I’m not getting any meat.’

  Bea didn’t want to tell her friend she had checked out the man they were currently both ogling for weeks, but he always seemed preoccupied with someone or another.

  There were a few people standing around him and they seemed in awe. Then he smiled before laughing and she could see why.

  He was totally gorgeous.

  ‘You can talk to me about my mental health when I get back. I’m not going to talk to him as I doubt I’m his type.’

  Limping towards the bar, she stood away from the group and tried to get the barman’s attention. The pain in her leg seemed manageable after two glasses of red wine. She hoped this third one would do the trick.

  Then the unimaginable happened.

  Someone banged straight into her backside and it was as if there was a red hot pole put against the back of her leg, as her sciatica nerve radiated the worse pain in the world.

  So bad, she couldn’t scream.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ she heard someone say but she was waiting to overcome the shock reverberating through her body. ‘Are you okay?’

  All Bea could do was let her mouth drop open waiting for something to come out.

  Then it did.

  A high pitched, short groan.

  She looked up and it was the fit guy who was standing at the bar.

  ‘I think I’m going to faint,’ Bea replied, holding herself up against the side waiting for the pain to go.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her, as she bent her leg, not wanting it to touch the floor. Then she was gracefully put on a chair as he knelt to look into her eyes.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He was softly spoken and she instantly recognised his Irish accent. And there were these big hazel brown eyes looking at her. ‘I take it you have an injury to your leg.’

  ‘Sciatica,’ she gulped, hoping the throb would go away.

  ‘You need to get it looked at. I’ve noticed you’ve been limping for weeks.’ There was a warm smile. ‘I see you in the coffee shop most days.’

  ‘I blame exercise and Pilates for this,’ Beatrice replied and looked at him. ‘Thank you for helping me. I’m going to see an osteopath who works in the new, expensive clinic down the road. I’ve got to go for an assessment.’

  ‘Really?’ he replied, with a half-smile. ‘They’re very good in there.’

  ‘Well, if he hurts me, I’m going to hit him before hobbling out.’

  The ma
n laughed and it was lovely.

  She couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head in amusement.

  ‘Shall I get your drinks for you?’ he eventually asked, letting out a sigh. ‘As a way of an apology.’

  ‘No, that’s fine. The pain will go soon.’

  ‘My name is Mylo.’ He then put out his hand out.

  ‘I’m Beatrice but everyone calls me Bea,’ she replied, shaking his palm.

  ‘Bea, it’s lovely to meet you.’

  ‘What do we have here?’ Anne-Marie asked, walking up to the pair. ‘Did my invalid friend fall for you?’

  ‘Fall on you,’ Bea corrected and noticed the wicked little smile on her friend’s face.

  ‘Same thing.’

  ‘He accidentally banged into my leg,’ replied Bea, seeing Anne-Marie was eyeing up Mylo who was still looking at her. ‘He says that clinic, where they will inflict torture to my body due to a sports injury, is very good.’

  ‘She fell off a cross trainer but thinks it’s a sport,’ laughed Anne-Marie flirtatiously. ‘She’s had a pain in her arse for years then she split with him.’

  Bea glared at Anne-Marie laughing, as Mylo stood up.

  ‘I had a pain the arse and got rid of it a few years back,’ he said, smiling at Bea. ‘Let me get your drinks.’

  ‘No, you don’t-.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Anne-Marie interrupted. ‘Two glasses of house red would be great!’

  ‘Coming up,’ he replied and walked to the bar, instantly getting served.

  Anne-Marie bent down and looked at Bea.

  ‘You said if I chatted him up you’d stop going on about whether I’m loopy or not,’ Bea said smugly. ‘Now you can stop.’

  ‘He’s fit!’ grinned Anne-Marie, as they eyed up his backside and noticed his group of friends were talking to him.

  Mylo then said something looking over his shoulder at Bea.

  Returning with the two drinks, he handed them over before going back to his friends.

  And as Bea hobbled to where she and Anne-Marie were sitting, she noticed he kept looking over and smiling while whispering to his fit mate.

  But she couldn’t figure out what he was saying and why.

  ‘I’ve come to see Dr Kearney.’