The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green (10 page)

‘How long have you been with him?' Letty panted.

‘Six months. His deep-thigh massage is out of this world.'

Letty felt a rage rising at the thought of him touching someone else. It wasn't as if she'd had to square the circle of him sleeping with his partner because he'd said they were in separate rooms and why would he lie to her – it wasn't something he was proud of. And she knew physical contact was part of his job. He'd told her that. To him, people's bodies were like the engine of a car. But his hands kneading the blonde's legs, well, how could he be professional in the face of perfection?

A whistle blew and the pair of them moved to the mats for sit-ups.

‘How often do you see him?' Letty asked, keeping her eyes straight ahead to show she was not bothered.

‘Three times a week, we have such a laugh. Have you just started with him?' she said, bobbing up and down effortlessly.

Letty seethed at the suggestion; her body didn't look like it had had six months of one-to-one instruction. She had the start of a six-pack, thank you very much!

‘Same as you, but I've had a few injuries,' she lied, then she couldn't help herself. ‘Lance says my hamstrings are the tightest he's ever felt – and that includes the southern hemisphere. I think I'm a special case. He's very attentive.' She added an imaginary ‘so back off, bitch'.

The whistle went again and – shit – the next was a partnering up abs exercise in which you took it in turns to lie on your back, held on to the other person's ankles and raised your legs. Letty had no desire to stare up at the competition's privates.

‘So sorry, I'll have to move on. My hammies aren't up to this.'

Thank God, she thought, moving on to the plank. But as she got down onto her front, she caught Lance walking over to the blonde – and oh no, he was only offering to be her partner. Peering from beneath her arm, she saw they had an easy way with one another. The intimacy as they touched and they way their bodies were positioned like something out of the Kama Sutra. He was laughing while she was in the full flow of a story. If they hadn't gone to bed then it was only a matter of time, judging by their blatant attraction. She had unwittingly thrown them together and she had no one to blame but herself.

Letty concentrated on her forearms which were wobbling from the strain of supporting her weight. What had she been thinking? If he was sleeping with her when he had a girlfriend and baby at home, what would be stopping him from lining up his next bird right in front of her? There was no point trying to moralize because he clearly didn't have any morals. And if you play with fire, you're going to get burnt, she thought, those were the rules. At the moment, she was slightly singed, nothing more than that, and she could escape without any long-lasting scars. She'd miss him but she'd put it down to experience and move on. She scrabbled around her head for the self-help mantras she kept on permanent stand-by and cited them to herself as the strain made her legs shake.
It was just sex, there was no relationship, the hurt is superficial. It was just sex, there was no relationship, the hurt is superficial
.

Two toots of the whistle, the first short and the second long, indicated it was time for a drinks break. She had to go. Now. Slip out and that would be that.

Letty picked up her towel and strolled casually to the water fountain, which was right next to the door to the changing rooms. She filled a plastic cup, downed it and then quickly disappeared.

Normally, she'd hang about until everyone was gone so she could be alone with Lance. But she wasted no time in opening her locker, grabbing her bag and heading for the exit. She was back to square one. Again. Destined to return home to nothing more than a pile of ‘Sorry, we missed you' postcards, which were the product of late-night online drunk-clicking.

Just then, she felt a hand on her arm. Turning round, he was there, his eyes full of concern.

‘You okay?' he asked, glancing behind him then giving her a kiss on the lips, which melted on her mouth. ‘Where are you off to? I thought we were going back to yours?'

She wanted to erupt, but blowing her top would show she was jealous and she was better than that. Yet shrugging him off with a breezy ‘let's just be friends' betrayed how she felt, and she knew she'd end up being eaten up by a bitter resentment. Instead, she chose honesty. To a point. ‘I just don't want to get hurt, Lance,' she said, trying to back off. She needed to put some distance between them because being this close to him made her dizzy.

He held onto her, his eyes searching hers for an explanation. ‘Have I done something wrong? You know how I feel about you. I—'

The door swung open, Letty leapt away from Lance as the blonde appeared. The timing was actually perfect or she would've been drawn in, unable to leave. It made her see things in a different light. Was this just infatuation on her part? And perhaps the girls had been right that he was only after one thing. That he'd played her all along. If he really loved her then he'd sort out his own mess first. It wasn't an ultimatum: it was for her survival.

‘Come back to me when you've sorted things out. At home.'

Lance went to speak but the blonde was calling his name.

Letty couldn't bear to watch him leave her so she walked out of the gym and out of his life.

Em's phone buzzed on her way up to the meeting.

She squirmed when she read Letty's message:

Have you thought any more about telling Simon? X

Only constantly, Em sighed, switching off her phone to make sure she wouldn't be side-tracked. Today she had banned herself from thinking about him because she needed to be sharp.

The manager's PA, Sly, had tipped her off that Mr Roberts was going to announce his retirement in the boardroom and had invited a select few to hear it first. She wanted the job – and she knew she deserved it. She'd run the place when he'd had his heart bypass operation, and done it very well too.

The certainty she felt about her career made her reflect then on the unpredictability she was inviting into her life with this baby. But now was not the time to dwell on it. She left her baggage at the door as she strode in. The first to arrive, as usual; time-keeping was one of her life tenets. Even when she was a check-out girl, she was the only one not rushing in late with a hangover on a Saturday morning.

The room was windowless and one of the fluorescent strip lights was flickering. That was bound to be a distraction, so she'd make sure she sat with her back to it. It was a tiny thing but details like this gave her an edge.

A booming voice called her name. ‘Emerald!'

It was Mr Roberts. Old-school, greying and like a headmaster, there were no chummy chats with him. He liked boundaries and respect. That's why he was on his way out. The rumour was he'd jumped before he got pushed because he didn't match the modern management style. He was a bit of a dinosaur – not quite triassic as he was still returning good results. But he was certainly one of the last of his breed. Whilst she liked his forthright ways, she knew he was compromised by his distrust of technology and delegation. She went over and shook hands. ‘Mr Roberts,' she said, waiting for him to speak because she'd learned he thought more of a person who could contain themselves rather than blather on to fill a silence.

He took out his comb and brushed his thinning hair back over his bald bit. ‘The trolley boys have asked for sun cream,' he said, ‘wouldn't have happened twenty years ago. That's health and safety for you.'

We have a duty to protect our staff, Em thought, but she'd never say that to him. Instead, she said: ‘Well, I hope you've given them own brand rather than the expensive stuff.'

He laughed. She'd pitched it perfectly. ‘Always thinking of the business, Emerald, you'll go far!'

That, she thought, is the plan.

A waft of perfume signalled Sly's arrival.

‘Em, my darling, how are you?' she asked, peering over her half-crescent glasses, which sat between immaculate silver styled short hair and a sleek M&S trouser suit.

‘Great, thanks. Any coffee coming? I'm gasping.'

‘Chef is sending some from the cafe. Along with some biscuits,' she said, winking at Em as she busied away on the tablet she carried everywhere.

What Mr Roberts lacked in warmth, Sly made up for in spades, letting her chosen ones know she held them in high regard. And it was Sly who'd told her at the Christmas do that the boss would be recommending Em for his post when the time came. There'd be a shortlist, obviously, that's the way they had to do things, but she wasn't to worry.

‘So, who else is coming to the meeting then?' Em asked, fishing for a heads-up.

‘You'll see,' Sly said, welcoming Sally from the cafe who wheeled in a trolley of refreshments.

Whoever it was, Em wasn't worried – she knew this industry like the back of her hand. No one could come close to her.

Apart from Simon Brown… who walked in at that very moment.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered inside her as she saw his fresh face and boyish, twinkling eyes. Stop it, she told herself – there is nothing exciting or handsome about his looks. He is completely unremarkable to look at with his inquisitive chestnut brown eyes and short nondescript brown hair. But that made things worse! That meant he was perfect!

What on earth was he doing here anyway?

‘So glad you could make it, Simon!' Mr Roberts said. ‘You're a bit of a late entry to all of this – we're going through interesting times.'

Oh my word, Em realized, finally. She felt betrayed as it all clicked into place. He's in the running for the job after I trained him up. I never took him for a snake, Em thought.

She might be the best here in this branch and she might be more senior than Simon Brown but he was clearly a rising star. And she'd helped him on his way! The floor began to shake as the reality set in: he's here to steal my job. The man who makes my heart soar is swooping in to ruin everything, even more than he already has.

Smile, woman, she ordered herself, just as he noticed her.

‘Em!' he said, beaming. ‘Great to see you!'

Her inner Richter Scale went off the graph in the earthquake of emotion she felt. Disgust at his duplicitousness, revulsion at his cheek and, most terrible of all, complete enchantment at being in his company. She could only nod back or she feared she'd crumble all over the carpet.

Fortunately, just then Mr Roberts pulled a chair from under the table, indicating he was ready to start. Three more people, assorted deputies and heads, had entered the room but Em hadn't even seen them arrive, she was too distracted by his presence and the fact he was the competition. She took a gulp of coffee and waited just a moment to see where Simon Brown was going to sit and then picked the chair furthest away from him. The words ‘I'm carrying your baby and you don't even know it' circled in her mind as she tried to fix her gaze on the manager.

‘As you are all aware… retiring… awaiting confirmation of my leaving date… interview process will begin' was all she could take in as nausea crept up on her. How cruel nature was to inflict nervous sickness on top of morning sickness! Ginger biscuits, that's what she needed, her eyes scanning the plate to see if there were any. She reached out, grabbed two and began nibbling. But it was too late. Em could feel her palms going clammy as wooziness took hold. Now of all times, when she needed to be composed.

Out of the corner of her eyes, the light was flickering. She had to get out, she was going to be sick. So she stood up, apologizing to Mr Roberts as she supported herself with her hands on the table, explaining she felt unwell. Em heard voices, ‘are you OK?' and ‘she's awfully pale', then she felt her legs go. She collapsed on the floor and everything went black.

Something cold was soothing her banging forehead when she came to. There was a smell of damp paper towel mixed in with a familiar calming scent. Oh no, it was all coming back to her – it was Simon Brown's aftershave. She opened her eyes and two faces were peering at her. Sly and Simon Brown, who'd laid his suit jacket under her head. Their faces seemed to have the most enormous features, as though she was seeing them in the back of a spoon. She had dreamed of being close to him again – why did it have to be when she was splayed out and helpless?

‘The ambulance is on its way,' Sly said, mopping her brow, ‘you fainted, got quite a bang to the head on the table as you went down. There's a bit of blood but you're okay, darling, we're here.'

‘I'll go with her,' Simon Brown said to Sly as Em announced she was fine, tried to get up and got as far as lifting her neck before a bolt of pain shot through her temples. Brilliant, this is truly brilliant, she thought to herself, feeling completely humiliated.

‘No running off now, an ambulance is coming,' Sly said.

‘Is that really necessary?' Em groaned.

‘Health and safety, health and safety,' Simon Brown said, smiling, which made her tummy flip all over again.

Honestly, she thought, disgusted at her body's betrayal by reacting like that when she was in no fit state.

‘I'm going to be sick,' she said, which saw Sly fly off for a metal bin and return just in time. This just can't get any worse, Em thought, as she wiped her mouth on the wet paper towel.

Two pairs of boots appeared by her head as Simon Brown and Sly moved back to allow the paramedics some space.

‘My name's Lucy,' two feet declared. ‘Can you tell me yours?'

‘Emera— Em. I'm fine, I just felt dizzy.'

‘Well, you've had a bump to the head and it'd be best all round if you come with us so we can get you checked out.'

‘Really. There's no need. I just need a lie down.' In a dark room. After a cold shower. Miles away from Simon Brown.