And so here she was, alone on a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do except lounge around and read the papers. Which always sounded good in theory, particularly on days when she was run off her feet, but was boring as all get-out in reality. She sighed loudly, gazing down at her feet where they were propped on the coffee table. Maybe she could paint her toenails. Was she really that bored? Yes, she really was, but still, there had to be something better to do than paint one’s toenails.
Jo yawned, stretched and sighed loudly again. Then silence. This place really was quiet. She couldn’t even hear footsteps in other apartments, doors banging, water running. She supposed everyone was out. It was a beautiful spring day after all. Why would anyone hang around in their apartment?
Her mobile rang into the silence. Hallelujah! She jumped up and ran around in circles for a minute before she realised it was in her handbag. She retrieved it finally, holding it to her ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi Jo.’
It was Bannister. Her heart dropped down into her stomach and then shot back up and lodged in her throat when she tried to speak. Which was really quite a ridiculous overreaction.
‘It’s Joe . . .’
She swallowed. ‘Yeah, I realise. How’s it going?’
‘It’s going okay,’ he said. ‘I just read your column.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was very good.’
‘I’m glad you think so,’ she said. ‘I had to fight for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Leo thought it was much too heavy for my flimsy little column.’
‘But you won out in the end?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Well, good for you,’ he said. ‘We should celebrate.’
‘Pardon?’ Her heart jumped again.
‘What are you up to today?’
Don’t sound pathetic. Or desperate. ‘Oh, well, I’ve finally scored one of those days where I have absolutely nothing to do but read the papers and veg out. I’m hovering somewhere between heaven and nirvana.’
‘Oh,’ he said, like he hadn’t expected that. ‘So I wouldn’t be able to talk you into getting off your couch and out into the sunshine?’
Of course you could. ‘Depends on what you’re suggesting,’ she said demurely.
‘How does rollerblading sound?’
‘Like something from a lame eighties movie starring a guy called Corey with a mullet and a bad attitude.’
He laughed. ‘Okay, but seriously –’
‘Oh but you can’t be serious if you’re talking about rollerblading.’
‘Oh but I am.’
Jo paused. Was he pulling her leg or was he actually suggesting rollerblading for real?
‘I think we might be a little past rollerblading, Joe,’ she said carefully.
‘Speak for yourself. I do it regularly.’
‘You do not,’ she scoffed.
‘Do too. I got into it a few years back in the US. It’s good exercise, especially for skiing.’
Jo had always been bemused by the term ‘good exercise’. Surely that was an oxymoron? And good exercise that got you ready for even more exercise was plain overkill.
‘I was going to do the Bridge,’ he was saying, ‘but it’s such a beautiful day, I thought Manly instead. We could ride over on the ferry. What do you think?’
‘Are you still talking about rollerblading?’
‘Absolutely, Manly’s a great spot for rollerblading.’
God, he really was serious.
‘So how about it?’ he prompted.
‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t sound very sure about that.’
‘Oh no, I’m quite sure,’ she insisted. ‘I’d only hold you back, I’m hopeless at that sort of thing.’
‘Have you ever rollerbladed before?’
‘No.’
‘So how do you know you’re hopeless?’
‘I just know. I’m all thumbs, or toes, or whatever it is.’
‘I could teach you.’
‘Thanks, but no, I’m good.’
‘You might even have fun?’
That was unlikely. A walk might have been nice. Along the boardwalk, by the water . . .
‘Come on,’ he cajoled, ‘you know you want to.’
‘I know I don’t.’
‘Last chance.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Joe, but I have newspapers to read, a navel to contemplate, that kind of thing. You know how it is.’
‘Well, I’m not going to beg.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘I’ll be off then.’
‘Have fun.’
Jo felt a sinking sensation in her chest. She looked down at the newspaper and Ms Zellweger squinted back at her. She really didn’t feel like doing nothing, here on her own, all day. But rollerblading?
‘Bye Jo.’
‘Bye,’ she said quietly, hanging up.
Her heart sank all the way down to her feet. Rollerblading of all things.
Yeah, because she was having such a ball right now. And Bannister had finally done something, made an overture. She could hear Belle’s voice in her head . . . You can’t leave him hanging, you have to give him some kind of response . . . he’ll move on.
But why did it have to be rollerblading?
She dialled his number and he answered on the first ring.
‘I knew you’d change your mind,’ he said.
‘Ow! Not so tight!’
‘Stop whining,’ said Joe. He was down on his knees in front of her, fastening the clips on her rollerblades. ‘Your boots have to be secure,’ he insisted, ‘or else your feet will move around too much inside and you could injure yourself.’
‘Well, I have no feeling in my feet now, so I suppose they won’t be moving around any.’ She frowned down at the lurid purple apparatuses encasing her feet, then at the hard plastic lime-green domes strapped to her knees, that matched the smaller versions on her elbows, which were the same colour as the dinky helmet Joe insisted she hire. Of course, he sported no such unsightly accoutrements. He didn’t need them, he maintained. Yeah, well he didn’t need to be so smug about it either.
‘Is it too late to change my mind back?’ Jo asked.
‘Yes it is,’ he said, standing up. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport.’
‘But I feel self-conscious,’ she said. ‘I’m not seeing a whole lot of rollerblading going on.’
‘You will,’ he assured her. ‘Come on, this’ll be fun.’
She considered him dubiously as he held his hands out to help her up. She grabbed both hands firmly, but as soon as she lifted her bottom off the bench, her feet gave way underneath her and she shrieked as her legs shot forward between Joe’s. He managed to grab her before she fell flat on her back, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t lift her upright again. She was forced to just hang there, Joe straddling her while he held her round her waist and she clung to him around his neck. It was a compromising position, to say the least.
‘Will you stop laughing and help me up?’ she gasped.
He took a deep breath before he straightened himself, hoisting her up so that her feet actually left the ground. Then he settled her back down gently, gradually letting her take her own weight, but not releasing her. His arms were fastened securely around her like a harness. There may have been method in his madness choosing this rollerblading caper after all.
‘You can let go of me now,’ she insisted.
‘No I can’t, you’ll fall down.’
He was right; she couldn’t seem to keep her legs steady, the boots kept sliding away from her on the smooth pavement.
‘Well how am I supposed to do this?’ she shrilled.
‘You just have to relax, Jo.’
‘Easy for you to say.’
‘You have to get used to the feel of the boots and the way they move.’
‘They seem to be moving any old way they want. It’s like I’ve got a pa
ir of shopping trolleys strapped to my feet.’
‘That’s because you’re reacting to every slight movement,’ said Joe. ‘You have to move with them, not against them; use just the right amount of control so that you can find your own natural rhythm.’
She groaned. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Okay,’ he said. Their faces were so close his forehead was resting against her helmet. ‘I’m going to let go of you now, but not altogether,’ he assured her. She felt his hands move to take hold of her hips. ‘I won’t let you fall,’ he promised as he carefully shifted away from her so there was space between them, though her own hands were still firmly clenched together around his neck. ‘Now, put your hands on my shoulders and let your arms rest along my arms. And relax,’ he added.
Jo moved her hands to his shoulders, consciously relaxing the muscles in her arms. She hadn’t realised how tense she had become. He talked her through releasing the tension in her shoulders, her back, her legs, until she felt more at ease. ‘Look, see, you’re not shaking any more,’ he pointed out.
Jo realised she was standing squarely on her own feet, he was only supporting her lightly.
‘Now bend your knees a little, and lean towards me.’
He instructed her to do scissor movements with her legs, slowly sliding one foot back and one forward to get used to the roller action of the boots. When she could manage that, he got her to transfer her weight from one foot to the other and back again in a steady rhythm, allowing the boot to roll forward a little each time.
‘And we have lift-off,’ Joe said after a while.
She realised they were actually moving along. Which made her wobble violently and clench his shoulders.
‘A-ah,’ he admonished. ‘Relax, you were doing great.’
‘Until you told me I was moving,’ said Jo. ‘You’re doing this, aren’t you?’
‘We both are,’ said Joe. ‘I’m doing exactly the same as you, only backwards. Now, can you slide your hands down so you’re holding onto my forearms?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said warily. ‘I’m okay like this.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Are you going to let go of me?’
‘Jo,’ he said, bringing them to a halt, ‘I won’t let go, not until you’re ready. You have to trust me.’
He didn’t realise what a big ask that was. She took a breath. ‘Okay.’ She moved her hands from his shoulders to his forearms and held on.
‘Not quite so tight, Jo.’
‘Sorry’, she said, loosening her grip. They started to move again, with Bannister chanting in a quiet voice, ‘Weight on one foot, now the other . . . one foot . . . the other . . .’ He kept it up, like a mantra, interspersed occasionally with ‘Lean forward’, or ‘Bend your knees’, or, her least favourite, ‘Don’t stick your backside out so far’. After a while, Jo realised they were proceeding at quite a respectable pace. She was, in fact, rollerblading. She let out an excited little laugh.
‘You’re doing great,’ Joe said, smiling at her. ‘Are you ready for the next step?’
‘I don’t want to let go.’
‘You don’t have to let go. Just hold my hands instead.’
She looked up at him uncertainly.
‘You can do it,’ he reassured her.
She took a breath and released her grip on his forearms, sliding her hands down to clasp his.
‘Now relax your arms,’ he reminded her. ‘You’re tensing up again. And don’t forget to breathe.’
‘Don’t go too fast,’ she warned.
‘I won’t, I promise.’
They continued along at a steady pace, with Bannister reminding her to relax and lean forward every so often when she got a little wobbly. Soon Jo felt she had a good rhythm going, she was even enjoying herself.
‘So are you ready?’ Joe asked.
‘What next?’ she looked alarmed. ‘I told you I don’t want you to let go.’
‘I won’t let go,’ he assured her. ‘But I think you’re ready for one hand.’
‘You do?’
‘I do,’ he nodded.
Jo took a deep breath in and out. ‘Okay.’
‘So I’m just going to let go of your right hand and swing around out of your way till I’m beside you. You don’t have to do a thing,’ said Joe, ‘and I’ll have hold of your left hand the whole time. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Jo, frowning with concentration. ‘What do I do with my free hand once you let go?’
He smiled. ‘Nothing special. Whatever feels natural.’
‘Okay.’
‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
Joe loosened his grip till he was barely touching her fingers. Then he let go, falling back in step beside her. ‘How was that?’
She glanced sideways, not ready to turn her head to look at him. ‘Okay, so far.’
He kept a firm hold of her hand and stayed in step with her, gradually encouraging her to pick up the pace. Jo looked out at the water to her right and breathed in deeply. She felt the breeze lifting her hair, and she felt oddly happy. Free. Unfettered. And then she heard her own voice cry out, ‘Whoo!’ She never ‘whooed’ or anything like it. She glanced at Joe, who was grinning broadly at her.
‘Having a good time?’ he asked.
‘I am,’ she called back. ‘I really am.’
‘I knew you would.’
She smiled happily, looking forward again just as a whole group on rollerblades rounded a bend ahead and came hurtling towards them.
Jo shrieked. ‘What do I do?’
‘Don’t panic, they’ll go around you.’
‘But I can’t let go.’ Her focus disintegrated, along with her bravado. Her legs started wobbling furiously and she felt herself losing balance. She was going to fall and end up sprawled out in front of the advancing troops bearing down upon her. Along with her own life flashing before her eyes, Jo saw the rollerbladers falling like tenpins, limbs flailing about in every direction, bones snapping, skin scraping on pavement. The only thing she could do, the only recourse left to her, was to close her eyes and squeal like a girl.
At that moment she was suddenly scooped up and over to one side, becoming momentarily airborne before falling to the ground with a thud. Jo opened her eyes and she was looking at the sky. She was lying on top of a body, Bannister’s she assumed. She hoped.
‘Are you all right?’
‘I will be when you get off me.’
‘Oh, sure,’ she said, shifting onto the grass beside him. ‘Sorry about that. I guess I just froze.’
‘They would have gone around you.’
‘They didn’t look like they were going to go round me. They looked like they were going to mow me down where I stood.’
He shook his head. ‘Everyone’s not out to get you, Jo.’
She was not so sure of that. She began to undo her helmet, but she couldn’t work out the clasp. He leaned over, hooking his fingers under the strap around her chin and releasing it. ‘Thanks,’ she said.
They lay back against the grassy bank edging the boardwalk while Jo caught her breath. After a while she turned her head to peer at him. ‘Are you really okay? It felt like we landed pretty heavily.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m tough, I can take it. How about you, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, a giggle escaping from her throat. ‘You broke my fall.’ For some reason that amused her and she started to laugh, a joyous, unadulterated belly laugh. And pretty soon Bannister started to laugh too. Jo gazed up at the sky, laughing till tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, till her stomach ached, till she couldn’t laugh any more. She sighed a vast, contented sigh, and threw her hands back over her head.
‘Ready for another go?’ he asked.
‘Soon,’ she replied. ‘I just want to lie here for a while.’
Jo would never have imagined in a million years she’d be spending the day learning to rollerblade. Wait till Ange got win
d of it. She hadn’t done anything like this since . . . she couldn’t remember when. She’d forgotten the exhilaration of doing something just because it was fun. Everything always had to have a higher purpose, an important objective. It was the way of the world. Wasting time had become the cardinal sin of the new millennium. But how could this be wasting time when she hadn’t felt so good in ages?
‘I’m glad you talked me into this,’ she said eventually.
‘Me too.’
‘I never do stuff like this.’
‘You don’t say?’
She elbowed him. ‘Not just rollerblading, obviously, I mean . . . playing, I guess. Having fun just for the sake of it.’ When she thought about it, she realised that perhaps she’d never learned how in the first place. Her childhood had not exactly been a time of carefree fun and games. When she did create games with Belle, they were often to protect or distract her little sister. It occurred to Jo she’d been a grown-up for a very long time.
‘Come on,’ said Joe after a while, interrupting her reverie. ‘You’re going have to start all over again if we don’t get you moving again soon.’
Forty minutes later, Jo finally declared her thigh muscles could take no more. Bannister suggested they find somewhere to eat, but Jo worried that if she sat down for any length of time she was likely to seize up and he would be forced to carry her home in a sitting position.
‘Best keep you moving then,’ he agreed.
They returned the gear to the hire shop and stopped to buy salad wraps at a place on the Corso, before crossing back over to the beach and down onto the sand.
‘Can I ask you something?’ she said after a while.
‘Sure.’
‘It might be a little nosy,’ she warned.
‘I said you can ask, I didn’t say I’d answer.’
‘Fair enough.’ She paused, thinking of the right way to put it. ‘It’s about Sarah, your ex . . .’
‘What about her?’
‘Well, you were a bit cagey about the details.’
He laughed. ‘I was a bit cagey? That’s rich, coming from you.’
Crossing Paths Page 28
