sweet Jesus. Rome wasn’t built in a day. I’d face the women’s changing room when I was good and ready and not before.
I clambered off my bike, and my God, the pain. My undercarriage felt like it had been kicked by a goat.
‘Ow,’ I whispered to my own knees and grabbed my towel.
‘Are you OK?’ the teacher called after me. ‘Lady with the red towel, are you OK?’
I ignored her and hobbled for the exit. I had to get into the cold air. Outside, it was dark. The woman who’d smiled at me was standing in front of the main entrance, drinking water from a proper sports bottle, one hand on her hip. She too was still in her kit and looked as red as I imagined I must be. Nearer purple, if I’m honest, and that made me warm to her even more.
‘Jan’s tough,’ she said. ‘But it’s a great workout.’
‘Wear-out, more like. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the hoo-hoo.’
She laughed. ‘It does hurt at first. I’ve been coming for six weeks. Should have seen me week one – I was crimson.’
I wondered what colour she thought she was now, but she prattled on as if she’d read my mind.
‘I mean, I’m crimson now obviously, but it’ll go down quicker. Six weeks ago I looked like an aubergine and I was still red the next day. Seemed like it anyway. Was it Bette Davis that said ageing’s not for wimps?’
‘I don’t know. Sounds about right, though.’
She held out her water to me. ‘Do you want some of this? If you don’t mind germs.’
I accepted it gratefully and took a sip, even though I could’ve downed the whole lot. ‘Ta. I’ll remember water for next week.’
She smiled. ‘You did really well, though.’
Kind of her to lie.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I really want to get fit.’
‘Me too. Important, isn’t it, as we get older?’
We stood there chatting. And what can I say about that, other than it was lovely, really lovely? My God.
Blue Eyes is looking at me with concern, and I realise I’m in floods. ‘Do you want to take a break?’
I shake my head, take the tissues she’s holding out to me.
‘I just can’t believe what happened to her, you know? I mean, I can. I know I have to face it, but she was just so nice… no edge to her, y’know?’
Blue Eyes waits while I compose myself enough to carry on. I sip some of the water, wipe my eyes and take a few deep breaths.
Once I’m calm enough to speak, I tell her things I know she knows already, like the fact that the woman’s name was Anne-Marie Golightly. Most people round our way will know that; it was in the Weekly News and the nationals. It will have been on the television, though I never watch the news on telly anymore. She was from Liverpool. To me, she was… she was just, you know, a lovely person. She had two kids, both grown up now, and referred to her husband as his lordship, which she said with real affection and it made me smile.
And she asked me questions too, which felt new, somehow. I told her Kieron was at art college and I didn’t moan about Katie and her strops, just said she wanted to be a make-up artist and that she was currently a YouTuber and left it at that.
At a certain point, we both sighed.
She looked around her. ‘Bloody hell, there’s only three cars left. We must have been here an hour!’
I laughed, followed her eyes to the sky-blue Mondeo, my rusty red Twingo and a bright yellow, very expensive-looking sports car. ‘I’ve lost all track of time. Too busy gassing.’
I shake my head and smile at the memory.
Amanda is looking at me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. ‘That must have felt good,’ is all she says.
‘It did,’ I reply. ‘Have you ever done that? Met someone and just chatted away like you’ve known them for years? It’s such a good feeling, isn’t it?’
‘It is. Simpatico is the term. I think it’s from the Spanish but I’d have to check. It describes the feeling of mutual understanding, getting along with another person. Do you think it felt particularly good just then?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Well, you were feeling distant from Lisa.’
‘Oh, yes, I suppose so.’
‘Do you think you can tell me what happened after that?’
I nod, even though I can’t, not really. I can only tell her what I remember. I remember