Sweet Temptation (39 page)

As for the main treatment room, Lauren had promised to help me clean and paint the walls, and I’d varnished the floorboards myself one evening. They gleamed now, and I felt pleased every time I stepped on them. I’d booked a plumber to put in a shower and sink unit, and had taken out a business loan to order a massage table. Dad had found a smart white storage unit with glass doors in the charity shop, which he’d cleaned up for me and which now housed all my massage oils and facial lotions. He’d also rigged up some little speakers and fitted a dimmer switch for the lights so that I could create an ambience for stressed clients with soft lighting and relaxation CDs. Finally, I’d bought a bale of lovely fluffy white towels, plus some brand new size twelve uniforms for me. How I wished Louisa could see me now!

If someone had told me a year before that Charlie and I were going to split up before we ever made it up the aisle, I’d have imagined myself devastated, sobbing into my pillow every night, begging him to take me back. But in reality, I’d been so busy lately working my size twelve butt off that I’d barely had time to think about him. Every day was packed with appointments, visiting clients around town with my bag of tricks, and every evening I was slaving away to transform the main room of the flat into the blissful oasis of calm I wanted it to be. Then at night I’d collapse onto the camp bed Mum and Dad had given me and fall asleep within seconds. Charlie had vanished from my radar now, and I felt like I’d thrown off all my cares.

The grand opening
, Maddie had said, and yes, I felt a party was definitely in order. There were so many people who’d helped me get here, and I wanted to thank them all and show them what I’d achieved and just how far I’d come. However, before any grand opening took place, there was someone else I wanted to see. Someone who’d been on my mind ever since our lunch date in San Carlo. Matt, of course. Kind Matt of the princess promises and talk of love.

Lauren had asked once or twice if I was going to call him, and I’d dithered over what to do. I really liked him, but I didn’t want to bounce straight from one relationship into another. I felt I needed some time on my own to catch my breath.

‘Just take things slowly,’ she’d advised. ‘No rush. You already like each other – that’s a great start. Just phone him up and have a chat, take things from there. He’s a nice guy, Jess. A really nice guy.’

‘I know,’ I’d said. ‘It’s just . . .’

It was hard to explain. He’d been so lovely to me when we’d met for lunch that day, so romantic and so honest about his feelings that I almost didn’t dare get my hopes up that anything could happen between us. Surely he was too good to be true? Surely there would be a catch, some personality disorder that I’d find out about further down the line?

Still. Nothing ventured and all that. I wouldn’t find out just by wondering, would I? And businesswoman Jess with her size twelve bottom and very own flat wasn’t the kind of person to shilly-shally about such things, now, was she?

‘Matt? It’s Jess.’

It was the following evening, and I was sitting on my creaky camp bed wrapped in towels, having just tried out my newly installed shower for the first time. (Bliss. The kind of shower you could actually live in.)

‘It’s Jessica Linley. Um . . . from the salon. I met you at San Carlo . . .’ I was babbling with nerves, thrown by his silence. Had he forgotten about me already?

‘I know who you are,’ he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Hi, Jess.’

‘Hi, Matt,’ I said. Then I licked my lips, suddenly lost for what to say. ‘So . . . hi,’ I said again.

‘Hi,’ he echoed.

There was a pause. Oh help. I was out of practice with this sort of thing. I was rubbish!
Come on, Jess. Take the lead. You can do it.

‘Matt, I was wondering—’ I began, just as he said, ‘Jess, it was lovely to—’ at the same moment.

We both laughed. ‘Go on, you first,’ he said. I’d forgotten what a nice voice he had: warm and friendly with a low chuckle to it that made me feel happy and more than a little bit tingly inside.

‘Okay, here goes,’ I said. ‘I’m kind of nervous about this, but I’m just going to come out and say it.’

‘Good for you,’ he said, sounding amused.

I took a deep breath. Right. Here goes nothing, I thought.

‘Matt,’ I began. ‘I just want to thank you for lunch the other day. The other week, rather.’ I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me. ‘I really, really enjoyed talking to you, and . . . and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. In a good way.’ I paused, worrying that I was waffling. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I’d love it if we could maybe arrange to see each other again. If you wanted to, of course, and you’re not too busy, or anything, then—’

‘Yes,’ he said before I could witter on any more. ‘I’d love to see you again, Jess.’

I found that I was smiling so much it hurt. ‘Really?’ I asked in delight. ‘You really want to see me again?’

‘Of course I really want to see you again,’ he told me. ‘I’ve been hoping you would ring. Really hoping.’ His voice softened. ‘I’m glad you did.’

I realized I was bouncing up and down with excitement on the camp bed. I hoped he couldn’t hear the creaks.

‘Great,’ I said happily. Stuff taking things slowly, I thought in a great rush of exhilaration. I couldn’t wait to see him again. ‘So . . . when are you free?’

Chapter Twenty-Two

Peachy

Maddie

I was tense even before the gun had gone off – my heart jumpy, my whole body clenched with nerves. A fat sun glared down, bathing us all in harsh white light. The other runners were muttering to one another in low voices, but I was so churned up inside, I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t move. ‘Are you okay, Maddie?’ Jess said, elbowing me. ‘You’ve gone very quiet.’

I turned to her and nodded. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Just . . . hope I can do it.’

‘You can do it,’ Lauren told me. ‘After all this bloody training we’ve done, we can
definitely
do it.’

It was the beginning of June, and we were gathered in the grounds of the NEC along with two thousand other women for the Race for Life. There was an incredible atmosphere, like nothing else I’d ever felt before. Loads of people were wearing pink running T-shirts, while others were dressed in sparkly wigs, pyjamas, fairy costumes complete with wings, or sequinned dresses . . . You could spot the hardcore runners in the crowd, the super-fit types for whom a 5k run was a breeze, but there were others who were obviously there for personal reasons, wearing messages pinned to their backs with the names of the people they were raising money for. I’d written mine that morning:

I’m running for . . . MUM

Of course I was. I blinked, teary-eyed all of a sudden. It turned out that Gerald had known about the letters from my dad all along. He’d sighed when I’d mentioned them to him.

‘I
told
her she had to give you those,’ he said. ‘I did tell her, Maddie. And I think she fully intended to originally, but . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Without wanting to sound disrespectful, she was a stubborn old mule, your mother.’

I nodded. ‘You can say that again. So what were her reasons for not just throwing them away in the first place?’ I pressed him. ‘What was her side of the story?’

‘She said that he’d let her down so badly, she couldn’t bear the thought of him doing the same to you,’ he replied, one eyebrow raised sceptically as if he didn’t really buy into her argument. ‘But she’d grudgingly kept the letters, intending to give them to you when you turned eighteen. By then she figured you’d be old enough to decide for yourself whether or not you wanted to have a relationship with him.’

‘I would have liked a relationship with him for the whole of my childhood!’ I railed. ‘She had no right to keep us apart. She just wanted me on her side, that was what it was all about.’

He didn’t deny it. ‘I know she felt bad about the way she’d handled things,’ he said quietly. ‘Honestly, Maddie. But by then, she thought it was too late. What was the point of stirring up old history again? She knew you’d be furious with her and couldn’t face it – that’s what I think.’

Thankfully, it
hadn’t
been too late, though. Dad and I had had an emotional reunion back in February when he’d come to Birmingham and met my family for the first time. He was in his sixties now, but I’d have known him anywhere, with the tall frame I’d inherited, the slightly crooked nose and sparkly eyes I remembered from my childhood. He’d been an instant hit with the children, who were fascinated to meet him and hear his tales about what I’d been like as a little girl. And seeing him with them, so easygoing and fun, making them roar with laughter at the story of me skidding in a cowpat one wet holiday in Dorset, melted away some of the freezing anger I’d felt towards Mum. Everyone makes mistakes.

We’d since been up to see him and Isabel in Edinburgh (a lovely woman, as gentle and kind-hearted as him), and it had been a huge comfort having a parent to talk to once more. Sure, I had to get to know him all over again, but I was already asking his advice about things, chatting with him about work and the kids almost as if we’d never been apart.

So yes, I’d made my peace with Mum. I still missed her desperately and thought about her all the time, but I’d forgiven her now that things were good with my dad. My anger had gone. And here I was with Jess and Lauren, about to run five kilometres in her memory.

Go for it, my love
, I heard her say in my head, clear as anything.
I’m watching you, you know. And I’m dead proud of my girl.

A countdown had begun at the starting line. ‘Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .’

‘This is it,’ Jess said, waving to Matt, who had managed to get a spot right at the front of the barrier that separated the runners from the supporters.

He waved back. ‘Love you,’ he shouted. Bless. We all loved Matt, the way he’d made Jess so happy and vibrant. She was a million miles away from the down-trodden person she’d been when I first met her.

‘Seven . . . six . . . five . . .’

‘Where’s Paul?’ Lauren wanted to know.

I’d been wondering the same thing. ‘I can’t see him,’ I answered. ‘He said he’d find me at the finish line somewhere.’

‘Four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . GO!’

We were off, a sea of women all running at once. The speedy ones were already zooming ahead, but I knew not to be fazed by them. ‘Keep to your own pace,’ Mike had advised me during our many practice runs. ‘You know what works best for you – forget everybody else.’

Mike. He and I were friends now, having got over our brief entanglement at the Christmas party. It had been awkward at first, and I’d felt self-conscious about seeing him, but we’d managed to get back to our old instructor-client relationship, keeping a safe distance from anything more complicated. He’d put together a training plan for me to build up my distance gradually, bit by bit. ‘No worries,’ he’d said, the last time I’d seen him. ‘You’ll fly round there, Maddie. Oh, and by the way . . .’

‘Yeah?’

‘It’s the Birmingham half-marathon in October, you know.’

I’d laughed in his face. ‘Mike, I’m never going to be an athlete. Five k is my limit, and I’m happy with that.’

‘Ah, but think back to the first time you came to the gym, Maddie. You’d never have believed you could be running half a kilometre, let alone five. Just you remember that.’

I smiled now as I pounded along, Jess and Lauren either side of me. He was an optimist, Mike, you had to give him that.

‘One kilometre down!’ Jess cheered as we passed the marker. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ She looked elated. She’d come running a few times with Nicole and I, but she’d been worrying beforehand that she wouldn’t be able to go the whole course.

‘You’re looking good there, Jess,’ I told her. I was feeling pretty good myself, completely at ease with the pace. I could really see how people became addicted to the running high – there was something very pleasing about how strong it made you feel, how powerful. And today, being here and running with all these other women to raise money for cancer research . . . it felt amazing.

All the messages on people’s backs were something else. I’d seen countless other women who were running for their mums, as well as beloved sisters, grandparents, dads, uncles, friends . . . The sheer volume of names, the mass of sadness there must have been behind every single one of those names took my breath away. It ought to have made me feel like crying for them all, but instead I felt uplifted. I felt inspired. I felt lucky, too, that I could run, breathe, smile, laugh, be here in blazing sunshine with two good friends. I
was
lucky. I was bloody lucky.

‘Two kilometres!’ Lauren whooped a few minutes later.

I felt astonished. We were almost halfway through the race already; time seemed to be whizzing by.

Lauren seemed unstoppable – and not just today. She’d been on a few dates recently with a Spanish guy called Alessandro she’d met salsa dancing and had been fizzing with energy and excitement ever since. Jess and Francesca had taken great delight in setting the pair of them up – ‘You’re not the only one who can match-make, you know,’ Jess had said with glee – and although Lauren wanted to take things slowly, she had a twinkle in her eye every time she mentioned his name. He was the first guy she’d dated since the Joe disaster, so I was really crossing my fingers for her.

She too was a different person from that first FatBusters meeting. Gone was the hardness I’d seen in her then, replaced these days by a genuine warmth, a booming laugh and a spring in her step. Her dating agency was as busy as ever, and she’d even been nominated for the
Birmingham Post
Business Awards. It was all good.

Jess’s business star was ascending, as well. She was so much in demand that she’d employed her friend and ex-colleague Phoebe to take on clients, and between them they were going great guns. Jess had been particularly thrilled to hear the news that Louisa, her horrid old boss, had been sacked from the salon following a charge of fraud. ‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,’ she’d said, looking very much as if she wanted to punch the air with joy.