“She won’t leave me,” continued Rex.
“Trust me, she wouldn’t be living on salad and torturing herself if she wasn’t planning on going. I’ve dealt with enough divorces in my time to know all the signs. Maggie’s not daft, she knows she’ll get a good package; she’s definitely got something going on. Come on, mate, we can’t let this arrogant bastard get away with it; he’s probably shagging loads of women and getting away with it. If we can prove the girls have been at it, we won’t look too bad.”
“But I haven’t been shagging anyone,” replied Rex, “although not for lack of trying, I’ll admit. Those lap dancers in Portugal don’t count. Bloody hell, you missed out on that one, mate, shame you had to leave early, it was carnage. Jesus, if Lucy ever finds out about those photos, Steve will be in the divorce courts too.”
“She did,” said Callum. “On the girl’s trip. Tommo’s wife told everyone what happened, Tommo obviously told her, the stupid bastard. That’s why Rachael’s going to the trainer mate, bloody revenge.”
“But you weren’t there,” said Rex, confused. “Why would Maggie want revenge?”
“Midlife crisis,” replied Callum. There was no way he was going to trust Rex with his secret. “It happens to some women, they start panicking about the whole age thing and that they’re not attractive anymore, so they start trying to turn the clock back and crack off with toy boys. Happens all the time.”
“Bloody hell,” said Rex, the irony wasted on him. “So that’s why I only ever get chatted up by married women; they’re all having a mid-life crisis. I never thought about it.”
“Yeah, well they won’t for much longer if you don’t get rid of that beer gut. Rachael will leave you and you’ll only be able to find desperate women old enough to be your mother.”
“Fucking nightmare,” whispered Rex.
“Right, I’m off,” said Callum, finishing his pint. “I’ll book us in for some after work sessions but don’t tell Rachael. I’ll message you tonight.”
And as Rex contemplated his possible demise, he googled “Trainers” and ordered another pint.
CHAPTER 26
Unusually for a September afternoon in Glasgow, the sun was still shining and the office was uncomfortably warm. Kelsey, having opted for an autumn season, long-sleeve blouse that she’d seen in a magazine last week, was feeling the heat and planning to nip to the shops for a short-sleeve version. As the temperature continued to rise, she was desperately counting the minutes to lunchtime.
“Oh my God, I think I might die if I don’t get out of here soon, it’s roasting in here. Can’t you do something, Kyle? We can’t work in this; I’m absolutely dripping.”
Kyle, desperate to erase any images of Kelsey dripping with perspiration and having to remove her clothing from his mind, got up and tried for the fourth time to sort out the blinds. Despite his best efforts, they remained resolutely stuck to the top of the window. No one appeared to have the key to open the window either, and Kyle was aware that the aroma in the office was becoming increasingly unpleasant.
“Bloody hell, it’s like an oven in here,” said Fraser, suddenly appearing with a handful of invoices. Unlike Kyle, he looked cool, calm and collected, in a crisp, white shirt and beautifully tailored trousers. As he walked across the room, his cologne followed him dutifully, softly overpowering the increasingly unsavoury scent of the Lynx deodorant emanating from Kyle’s armpits.
“Oh, Fraser, you’ll know what to do. Please can you have a go at those blinds,” pleaded Kelsey weakly, “I’m dying of heat stroke and I actually think I might faint. I’m sure there’s a law against it when it’s too hot and not being able to open a window. This is how poor wee doggies die in cars, isn’t it?”
As Kelsey dramatically draped herself in a mock faint over her desk, Kyle stepped aside and tried not to sigh as Fraser put down the invoices and dutifully moved towards the blinds. Infuriatingly, after a quick twist and tug, his heart sank as Fraser released the blind and manoeuvred it expertly into its rightful position.
“Oh, thank God,” sighed Kelsey. “How did you do that? Kyle couldn’t do it. You’re such a hero and you smell lovely, what are you wearing?”
“My mate’s got similar blinds,” replied Fraser, trying to deflect the embarrassing number of compliments firing his way. “They’re always getting stuck; easy if you know how, a bugger if you don’t. Took me an hour to work them out the first time.”
“Oh that’s such a relief, at least it might be a bit cooler in here when I get back from lunch. I’m going now, do you want to come?” said Kelsey, opening her bag and taking out her phone and lip-gloss. “You can help me chose a new top; I need to get out of this one. It’s so boring by myself.”
Fraser and Kyle both looked at her, then at each other, neither sure as to whom the question was being addressed to. Carefully applying her lip-gloss, Kelsey was oblivious to the awkward silence.
“Shall we all go?” replied Fraser. “I’ll drive then I can drop you two off and I can use my mate’s parking spot that he never uses and catch you up.”
Kelsey looked up, and Kyle realised instantly by the look on her face, that the question had been addressed to Fraser. After all, why would she want him to help her choose a new top; what would he know about style? As far as he was concerned, Kelsey could wear a bin bag and still look beautiful. Fraser, though, knew all about style. He always looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine and it was obvious that at the moment, the only advice Kelsey wanted was Fraser’s.
“Sorry, I’m up to my eyes in it,” said Kyle suddenly, with as much confidence as he could muster. “You go ahead and I’ll cover for you if you’re late back.” He didn’t want to be a gooseberry.
“Oh, come on, mate,” said Fraser, “It’ll be a laugh. I don’t want to have sole responsibility for Kelsey’s new top.”
Surprisingly, Fraser looked slightly flustered and, as he looked at Kyle, his eyes widened in a silent signal for help.
“Oh don’t worry, Fraser,” interrupted Kelsey. “I won’t blame you if you get it wrong. Come on, we haven’t got long. Do you want us to bring you something back, Kyle?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks, I’ve got food. I’ll make you a smoothie for when you get back. I’ve got strawberries this time, no spinach.”
“That’ll be lovely, you’re so sweet,” said Kelsey patronisingly as she walked through the office door.
As she disappeared, Kyle winked at Fraser.
“Good luck, mate, no pressure,” he whispered, trying to smile. “Rather you than me.”
“Thanks,” said Fraser, looking decidedly nervous. “If I’m not back in an hour, you’d better come and rescue me.”
Alone in the office, Kyle sat down at his desk. Why was he even hoping that Kelsey would ever be interested in him? She wanted someone like Fraser; good-looking and smooth with a bit of cash – everything that he wasn’t. He’d probably never entered her head as possible dating material and, even if he lost weight, he’d never be in fragrant Fraser’s league. For a fleeting moment the takeaway next door beckoned but, with the thought of the weigh-in with Thor in the morning, Kyle resisted. Thor had put his faith in him. He didn’t want to let him down. He’d given him a lot of help and he’d worked really hard this week to meet his targets. He didn’t want to be a loser anymore; he wanted to achieve something. He needed to achieve something and losing weight and getting healthy again was probably the best place to start. Picking up his phone, Kyle opened the message from Thor which contained the recipe for Kelsey’s pink smoothie. He still fancied her, even if she would never feel the same about him, and he knew in his heart that he would do anything for her if she asked him to. Despite her rejection of him as a shopping partner, he would make her a smoothie. He wasn’t going to give up that easily. In his eyes, she was still a goddess.
* * *
Thor opened a box containing enough high protein salad to see him through the day. He actually felt tired this afternoon, maybe it was
the heat. Grateful for a break, he sat down. It had been a busy day so far, and it wasn’t over yet. Two more after-work clients and two circuits classes. Taking a mouthful of salad, Thor looked at his phone. Two voicemail messages. Listening, he closed his eyes: one cancellation for tomorrow, and then one which was very interesting; a new client, but the name was familiar. He called back.
“Hello, Callum Dunbar.”
“Hello, this is Thor Thorogood, personal trainer. You left me a message asking me to call.”
“Ah yes,” replied Callum, “thanks for calling back, I was just interested in a joint training session for myself and a friend. Do you do joint sessions?”
“Yes, it’s no problem,” said Thor, “but I think you get better results in an individual session, especially if you’re both at different fitness levels. Have either of you exercised much before?”
“Just golf and, no, we’re both beginners on the training front. We just feel the need to get fit now we’re getting close to fifty. We’re both getting a bit portly and thought we’d better get in shape in case our wives leave us.” Callum faked a laugh. “You know what women are like when they get to our age, can’t trust them a mile, mid-life crisis and all that.”
“So they say,” replied Thor cautiously; there was something about this conversation that was making him uneasy. “So, what are you thinking about time-wise? Would you need an after-work session or early morning?”
Briefly Callum thought about Rex. He’d never make a morning session; it would be better to go for an evening slot, he’d have a better chance of being awake.
“After work would be better, I think, we can both finish at five.”
Thor flicked to his diary.
“I can do tomorrow at six. Is that too late, or too short notice?”
“That’s OK, I think. We’ll take that and I’ll call you if there’s a problem. What do we need to bring?”
“Just wear something loose, and trainers of course, and bring a bottle of water. I’ll just be weighing you, measuring your BMI and then putting you through a short fitness test to work out a training schedule for you. I’ll send you over a questionnaire which I’d like you to fill in for me and bring with you, or just send it back, if that’s OK? I just need to get an idea of your lifestyle, which helps me with your training plan. Shall I just message you on this number?”
Callum suddenly felt nervous. Surprisingly, the guy sounded very professional and he obviously meant business when it came to training plans. Rex was right, there was a distinct possibility that they actually could drop dead. Maybe this was a mistake.
“Yes, that’s fine,” he replied, suddenly a little less enthusiastic. “Oh, and I just wanted to check that everything is, of course, confidential?”
“Of course,” replied Thor. “I’ll sign a confidentiality clause with you at the first session.”
“Good,” replied Callum, “because our wives actually come to you too, but we don’t want them to know we’re coming.”
“Right,” said Thor cautiously, resisting asking any names. “It’s not a problem, I never discuss clients outside the training session. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good,” replied Callum firmly. “Well let’s hope it’s not an issue. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
And as Thor hung up, he felt slightly uneasy. Callum Dunbar was obviously Maggie Dunbar’s husband, and he suspected that his mate would be none other than the infamous Rex, the bane of Rachael Haig’s life. Thor couldn’t help but grin to himself. They were obviously up to no good and he was going to have a lot of fun finding out what. Thor took another mouthful of salad. He was going to enjoy this, as he could guarantee that they had absolutely no idea just what they were letting themselves in for.
* * *
By the time Kelsey and Fraser returned, the office had cooled down slightly and Kyle had managed to find someone in the front office who had a bunch of keys, marked unknown, one of which opened the windows. Consequently, the air was a little less pungent and Kelsey breathed a sigh of relief as she placed her bag on her desk. Kyle noticed that she’d changed her blouse, the new purchase a floaty, summery number, which not only showed off her arms but also exposed a lot more cleavage.
“So, you got something then?” he asked, trying not to look at her chest. “It looks nice. Very summery.”
“Thanks, it was in the sale,” she replied. “Fraser thought it was nice too although, to be honest, he wasn’t much help. He kept disappearing and he was on his phone most of the time. He didn’t say much.”
“Well you can’t blame him,” Kyle said, slightly relieved, “most blokes don’t know the first thing about shopping.”
“I think he must have a girlfriend, that’s why he was on his phone so much,” she continued, checking her makeup in the small mirror that seemed to be out of her handbag more often than it was in. “I tried to get it out of him, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I don’t think he’s interested in me.”
“I didn’t think he was your type anyway,” said Kyle, trying to sound casual, pretending to concentrate as he flicked through the pile of orders on his desk.
“And what is my type?” Kelsey replied, touching up her lip-gloss and returning it to her bag. “I didn’t know I had one. Since when have you become an expert on my type?”
“Since you’ve worked here,” replied Kyle, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his computer screen. “I know everything there is to know about your bloody love life. I could have it as my specialist subject on Mastermind.”
Kelsey glared at him and then broke into a smile. “Yeah, well you’d better not tell anyone else, I only tell you because you’re nice and I trust you. Oh, and I nearly forgot, I bought you something, well, I bought us both one. Look, I saw them, they were cute and I thought they’d be useful.”
Kelsey rummaged in the shopping bag under her desk and brought out two re-usable drinking cups.
“Look, this is mine, Little Miss Perfect and this is yours Mr Good, because you’re always so nice. I used to love the Mr Men. I thought you could put our smoothies in it. Did you make me a pink one?” Kelsey looked at him like a child asking about a birthday cake.
“Sorry no, I thought you said you wanted spinach again,” Kyle replied, trying to keep a straight face.
“No I didn’t, you know what it reminds me of,” said Kelsey pouting. “You’re winding me up again, aren’t you? You promised me a pink one.”
“Yeah, I’m joking, I made you a pink one, it’s in the fridge.”
And as Kelsey took Little Miss Perfect and Mr Good off to the kitchen to fill with strawberry pink smoothie, Kyle once again felt the tingly warm glow of hope.
CHAPTER 27
Tidying up in the stables, Maggie was enjoying the late summer warmth. She loved the glow of the surrounding fields as they basked in the low sunshine and the buzz of insects enjoying an unexpected last hurrah before the autumn set in. Leaning against the stable door, she turned her face to the sun and surveyed the house and yard. She’d be devastated to let this go, the children had only ever known this as their home, but she realised that it was probably inevitable. Divorce would mean division in more than one sense; Callum wouldn’t be able to keep this place going as well as school fees and a place in town, it would probably kill him and she didn’t want that. The girls still needed a father. If an amicable separation meant losing the house, then so be it. She couldn’t have it all ways. With a sigh, Maggie turned back into the stables to finish up and, as she picked up the broom, her phone rang. It was Myles.
“Well, hello,” she answered, trying her best to sound enticing. “You’re very brave calling me without warning; luckily I am alone.”
“Well I guessed the old boy would still be at work and you would have dismissed me if it was bad timing. Do you have me under a different name on your phone?”
Maggie grinned. “Melanie,” she replied, trying to picture the look on his face.
“Melanie?” laughed Myles. “Me
lanie what?”
“Cavendish, Melanie Cavendish,” laughed Maggie.
“That’s a bit risky, isn’t it?” said Cavendish.
“Not really, if he saw it I’d just say she was in the church choir, he wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Anyway, what are you up to?”
“Nothing exciting, cleaning the stables.”
“Oh I like the sound of that,” said Cavendish huskily. “Are you wearing jodhpurs?”
“Of course,” replied Maggie, suddenly feeling a rush of excitement. Myles always had that effect on her. “I always wear jodhpurs to clean the stables.”
“Oh tally-ho, I’d love to see that. Please wear them the next time we meet, I can’t think of anything that would turn me on more than trying to find my way into your jodhpurs.”
“Shall I wear boots too?” teased Maggie, catching a glimpse of herself in the dusty mirror hanging beside the door. She looked flushed. He made her feel young again.
“I am seriously going to have sex with you in those bloody stables, Mrs Dunbar. I might just jump on a plane and head up there right now, I’m that horny.”
“Sadly, my darling, that would be pointless, as the chances of sneaking you in here unseen in this village, are zero. They know more about me than I do, and what they don’t know, they make up.”
“Well at least they’d have something to talk about. Anyway, that’s why I’m calling. I’m flying up.”
“Oh my god, when?” said Maggie excitedly.
“Two weeks on Friday. It’s Davie Sutherland’s fiftieth on the Saturday and all the golf boys are getting together for golf then dinner out in Glasgow on Saturday night. All the London boys are coming. Hopefully, if I fly up Friday morning, I’ll get a nice hotel and you can sneak over and let me get into those jodhpurs.”
“Will Callum be going, do you think?” asked Maggie. “He hasn’t mentioned it, although he doesn’t tell me anything these days. That could be a bit awkward, couldn’t it? I mean, Steve knows and I’m dreading that some of the others might know now after that debacle on the girl’s trip. You should never have turned up. I knew it was risky.”
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