“You’ve gone pale,” Lauren said sounding concerned. “I think she needs some air,” and dashed to open up all the windows.
Portia peered into my face as if she were looking for something specific.
“Oh. My. God!” she deadpanned.
“What?!” I asked in alarm, wondering if it were possible that Portia was some covert medical genius and had spotted in my face the tell-tale signs of some rare tropical incurable disease that was about to change my life for ever.
“You, Rebecca Hardy, are without doubt, most definitely, in love!”
I looked down at the display. Three more minutes to go. I tapped the arrow to increase the incline, and picked up my speed even more, my arms and legs moving in powerful rhythmic motion as I ran, pounding the treadmill, as if I were running for Olympic gold. When the display started flashing with my workout summary at the end of my thirty minute session, I checked the calorie counter out of curiosity. I was dripping with perspiration, pink faced and could hardly catch my breath, and I had only burnt 112 calories! Yippee! Good job I wasn’t on a calorie counting diet. How depressing would that be? I cancelled the cool-down option, grabbed my towel and panted up the steps to the viewing gallery where Abigail and Julia sat watching me with interest.
“Well,” Abigail started, stretching further out on the sofa, “that wasn’t very sociable now was it darling.” She was wearing a cute black and white two-piece outfit which of course emphasised her chest and unaccountably flat tummy.
I shoved Abigail’s feet to one side, and plonked myself down beside Julia.
“This is a gym,” I said flatly. “People come here to work-out. Not to be sociable.”
Abigail prodded me with her foot. “What’s wrong with you today you miserable cow?!” I ignored her.
Julia looked at me. “Are you alright Becky?”
“Oooh,” I droned, “I’m fine. I’ve just had a very…hectic few days.” Then desperate to change the subject, I put on my best ‘up-beat’ tone and asked: “So, how are the wedding plans going?”
“Great,” Julia answered a little too evenly.
Abigail sat up straight and looked at Julia accusingly. “Well you don’t sound anything at all like an excited bride-to-be!” I sipped my water and looked at Julia from the corner of my eye, thinking the exact same thing.
“Don’t worry,” Julia laughed, “I am not cancelling this wedding, OK!”
Abby looked relieved and curled back up comfortably on the couch. “So what’s the problem? Why are you not dragging us around fabric shops and begging us to be bridesmaids again?” I gave Abby a look as if to say: I cannot believe you mentioned the ‘B’ word!
“Well,” Julia teased, “I didn’t know you two wanted to be bridesmaids so much.”
“We don’t!” we almost shouted in unison.
“I mean,” I added quickly, not wanting to upset Juju, “…unless you really want us to.”
“Huh?” Abby chipped in, “Speak for yourself!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at her.
Julia smiled. “It’s OK. We’re going to keep the wedding party very small. Just Seb and I in fact.”
“Really?”
“Uh uh. The whole wedding’s going to be very simple. We just don’t need the fanfare,” she said sensibly.
“So why are you not skipping through the meadows?” Abby asked.
“I am happy,” Julia sighed logically. “It’s just…”
“Just what?!” Abby snapped impatiently.
“…It’s just, so final isn’t it. Forever and ever and all that.”
I looked at Julia curiously. “Well that is the general idea Juju.”
“Well,” she said quietly, “how do you know it’s going to last?”
“You don’t,” I said softly, detecting some pre-nuptial nerves surfacing. “No one ever knows.” I placed my hand over hers and smiled. “I guess you just trust your heart and hope for the best.”
She smiled back. “Better to have loved…”
“Exactly!” I said patting her hand.
“Of course,” Abigail started with a hint of mischief in her voice, “…if you really want to find out if it will last…you can always hire Becky here to try and catch Seb out!” and collapsed in laughter. I cut my eyes at her, snatched my hand back from Julia’s and retreated back into myself, feeling like exposed bitch of the century. “I’m only joking Becks, for chrissakes! Why is everyone so touchy today!”
The three of us sat there in silence for a few minutes, trapped in our own thoughts, until eventually I said: “I think I’ve made a dreadful mistake.”
“What have you done now?” Abigail said looking at me disappointed. “You haven’t taken bloody Jeremy back have you?”
“Abigail!” Julia reprimanded her. “That wouldn’t be so dreadful.”
“Oh yes it bloody well would!”
Julia opened her mouth with some quick retort no doubt, but I cut in before the two of them started one of their infamous squabbles.
“No. I haven’t taken Jeremy back. In fact it’s nothing to do with Jeremy.”
“Well thank gawd for that!” Abigail said sounding relieved. “So? What is it?”
“I really don’t think I should’ve agreed to help Isabella Coombs.”
Julia, suddenly looking very pleased with herself said, “Well I’ve been telling you not to do it from the very beginning Rebecca!” Then, looking suddenly concerned, “Anyway, why do you say that now? What’s happened?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just…it’s just getting all so confusing,” Julia looked at me as though she wasn’t buying it, “…and the outfits Isabella chooses are getting far more suggestive.”
“Rightly so!” Abigail hoorayed. “How on earth do you expect to tempt the man dressed like a tomboy?”
“But I don’t WANT to TEMPT him!” they both gave me a very strange look. I inhaled and exhaled deeply. “This whole thing wasn’t supposed to be about me…leading him astray.”
“But I thought you wanted to help her?”
“I did want to. But…this is all too much.” I massaged my temples with my fingers, focusing on the runners pounding the treadmills. “Plus, I really don’t think Charles Coombs is the cheating kind. He seems…really…nice. Decent even. He’s not at all rehearsed, or smooth. In fact he’s always a little nervous to be truthful…and very very sweet.” I slumped back further into my seat and saw Abigail and Julia exchange odd looks.
“Becky, sweetheart,” Julia said softly, “he sounds lovely. And his wife is a very lucky woman.” I gulped when she said the word ‘wife’ and for some bizarre reason, my eyes started to sting. I blinked quickly. “Perhaps you should call the whole thing off?”
“I think I will,” I whispered. I looked up at Abby to see if she had any alternative advice to give but she just looked back at me with big eyes and her mouth forming an ‘O’ as if to say: Oh. My. God!
“Bitches and hoes, bitches and hoes,” an annoyingly familiar voice came grating from behind us as the Gustard bopped around the sofa in front of us, waving his hands about in two-finger gestures, “dats how it goes wid bitches and hoes!”
Julia huffed. “Look Gustard,” she said, “I really do take offence to you singing that song around us!”
“Well darlin’,” he said pulling his jeans even further down his boxer shorts, “if de cap fits.”
“Good gawd,” Abby said sounding disgusted. “Just look at you.”
“Yes, feast your eyes upon de ‘G’,” he said moving his hands smarmily over his body and resting lewdly on his crotch, which he shoved out toward Abby.”
She ignored him. “Do you really think everyone in this gym wants to see your next week’s laundry?” referring to the fact that with his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, his boxer shorts were getting too much of a viewing.
“And do you think dat everybody in dis gym really want to see your tits?” referring to the way the thin lycra top hugged her boobs like a second skin.
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“Yes actually. They probably do,” Abby replied with a smug smile.
The Gustard licked his lips. “Let me feel dem,” he said seriously and stepped toward her.
“Fuck off!”
“Why you got to swear all the time man?! Your mouth is real dirty!” Then probably realising he’d used the word ‘dirty’ in reference to Abby, a revolting look crossed his face and he raised his eyebrows twice in question at her.
“Oh piss off,” she said looking past him. “You’re blocking my view,” focusing on Mr Adonis using the bicep curl.
Gustard followed her gaze and kissed his teeth. “Chah! You ain’t even got no chance wid him! He ain’t interested in an old butters like you.”
Julia looked at me quizzically. “Butters?”
“Spreads very easily,” I whispered in explanation. She looked at me blankly, trying to figure out the relation no doubt, and then when it finally clicked she screwed up her face and shook her head at Gustard.
“Well,” Abby said standing up and smoothing down her skin-tight Lycra shorts, “we shall see if he’s interested or not,” and sashayed over toward Mr Adonis. Gustard looked at her butt as she passed him, swivelled his baseball cap and dragged himself behind her, leaning to one side like a one footed carcass.
“And she’s off,” I said flatly to no one in particular.
“Humph,” Julia replied as we watched Abby taking up position besides Mr Adonis. “It’s amazing how she does that,” Julia marvelled as Abby and Mr Adonis started chatting casually as if they had known each other for years. “She does look amazing though.” And then as if she were assessing or maybe even comparing her own looks, she groaned, “Oooh, I really need to find a new facial. Or do something more dramatic. These herbal peels are not making the slightest bit of difference these days!” touching her face.
“Facial exercise,” I taunted. “Your face will start melting away like wax if you don’t start soon.”
“But I don’t know how to do them,” Julia moaned, lifting her eyebrows with her fingers, as if this instant goodwill gesture would benefit somehow.
“I could teach you,” I said simply. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I’m giving lessons now.”
“So Gwendolyn finally put you in the brochure?”
“Hardly! I got requested. One of my regulars bought a block of lessons for her daughter.”
“That’s great! So how’s it going? Are the exercises working?” she asked sounding surprised that someone actually paid for lessons.
I looked to the heavens. “Julia! I’ve only seen the client four times! It takes at least six weeks to see results, and that’s assuming she sticks to the workout regime I gave her.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. I shook my head at her.
“Looks like our girl scored,” I said flatly, watching Abby heading back toward us with Mr Adonis in tow. Julia didn’t comment. Just pursed her lips together.
“Ladies,” Abigail started, in the fakest voice I ever heard, “I would like you to meet Jason. He’s the British karate coach,” she said sounding really proud of her catch.
“Wow,” I said, trying my best to sound interested but failing miserably, “that’s great.” Abigail stuck her jaw out at me. “I’m Rebecca,” I said offering my hand.
“Nice to meet you Rebecca,” he smiled and shook my hand firmly enough. Then we all turned to look at Julia, whose face had turned a definite shade of pink, and was pretending to look at something in the distance. “And you are?” Mr Adonis asked.
“Julia,” she snapped without looking at him.
Abigail looked furious. “Hah!” she said. “Sorry Jason, my friends seem to be having an off day. Why don’t we go upstairs to the studio,” she said blinking her lashes at him, “then you can show me some self-defence moves.” I rolled my eyes at Abby.
Mr Adonis completely ignored her, and I noticed, hadn’t taken his eyes off Julia once. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said smoothly to Julia. And instead of sticking her fingers down her throat, Julia looked up at him timidly. Abigail’s ears pricked up and the look on her face said she didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit! “I’ve got a sister called Julia,” he said. I wanted to burst out laughing but I looked at Abby and saw that her jaw had hit the ground which was even more amusing. He had a sister called Julia?! My arse! It was a line. A CHAT up line and Abby and I had both heard it before. “She’s quite shy too.” I had to literally bite my bottom lip to stop myself from bursting out at the hilarity of it all.
Abigail placed her hands squarely on her hips and turned to him sounding a whole lot more like her usual self. “OK, listen Don Juan,” I could hold it in no longer and the suppressed laughter bubbled out of me uncontrollably. “Are we going to spar together or not?”
“Sure,” Mr Adonis said without turning round. Then, “Hey, Julia, why don’t you join us? It’s always good to know some self-defence.”
“Sorry darling,” Abigail dismissed him and sat down beside me, “we don’t do threesomes!” and looked at him as if to say: Now hop it!
“Oh,” Julia said in a little voice, “but I’d quite like to learn some self-defence.”
Abigail glared at her but before she could think of a suitable response, Mr Adonis grabbed Julia up by the hand and said, “Well c’mon then,” and the two of them started heading toward the dance studio.
“Hah!” Abigail said in shock. Then quickly recovered, shouting after them, “She’s engaged!” Then turned to me in amazement and said, “Can you believe that?!” The fact that I was now roaring, meant I probably could.
“You sound out of breath,” Charles said.
“Because I’m late,” I laughed, running toward Anita’s squash club.
“Late? You mean you’re actually up and out already?” he teased.
“Oh please don’t. It’s still the middle of the night for me. In fact I think I’m sleepwalking. No, make that sleep-running!” I could hear his easy laughter at the other end of the line and I felt guilty as a smile spread its way across my face. Then remembering I had promised myself I wouldn’t talk to him again, I said, “Anyway, I really have to go now.”
“So,” he said quietly, “are you going to be just as elusive these next few days?”
“Of course not,” I lied. “I’ve honestly just been really busy,” I lied again. I hadn’t been busy at all. I had been watching the BlackBerry consistently light up with his calls and ignoring them. I had considered switching it off all together but I didn’t want Isabella showing up at work, and something told me if she wasn’t happy she just might. I had to tell her face to face that I would not be meeting with her husband ever again, and as I wasn’t due to see her until Thursday, I would just have to screen his calls until then.
“So I’ll call you?” he said sounding not very hopeful.
“Sure,” I said, feeling that annoying ache in my chest again.
As usual, as soon as I entered the centre I was amazed at how many people played squash at 7am in the morning. Most of the courts seemed to be already occupied as I walked past. These people must be nocturnal! I was really struggling getting up at 6am twice a week to meet up with Anita at her squash club, but 7am to 7.30am seemed to be the only time during the day which she could fit the luxury of facial exercise lessons into, and to be honest I was so glad to have an actual facial exercise client that I would’ve risen at the crack of dawn if necessary. Apparently Mrs Dobson had booked this block of facial exercise lessons for her daughter’s birthday, after she had flatly refused to accept a course of pre-paid Botox treatments with one of Harley Street’s finest. “If it’s not natural, mother,” Anita had apparently said, “I’m not having it.” Mrs Dobson had sighed with disappointment as she recounted the conversation to me, and said, “She’s nothing at all like me Rebecca. Nothing at all.” And although having a daughter who did not share her love for glamour or the pursuit of enhancing one’s looks with silicone or injection, was obviously not ideal for M
rs Dobson, it created a very perfect situation for me. Anita Dobson, being a dedicated squash coach, a practicing vegan with a holistic lifestyle, had embraced my concept of facial exercise with open arms. She was an absolute dream client that made me wish I could teach these exercises all day long.
“Do you know Rebecca,” Anita said to me whilst studying her fresh-faced reflection in the mirror, “I honestly think these exercises are working!” We were both sat at the vanity station in the deserted ladies, plush changing room, which wasn’t ideal, but I guess as good enough a place as any, for facial exercise lessons.
I looked in the magic mirror with her. “Well, it usually takes at least six weeks to see some results and it’s only been four,” I said trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. I of course hadn’t a clue as to how long it would take for her to see results, as with Anita being my one and only ever client, I had no one else’s progress to compare. I peered into the mirror at her reflection, suddenly excited at the actual real prospect that these facial exercises which never failed me, were really and truly working for another woman.
A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story Page 17
