dumbbells. Here, at the Wellness Sports and Spa Fitness Centre we do not have stress and strain. We have motivational personal trainers. We have the latest in cardiovascular equipment and we have beauty treatments to rival a dip in the Icelandic mud baths,’ Ally announced. She proudly puffed out her chest like an aroused pigeon.
The Wellness Sports and Spa Fitness Centre was brand new and being opened and launched that day. Emma was there because Ally was the manager. Ally knew nothing about sports and fitness, but she had a power suit and a loud voice and could organise the unorganisable. She wanted her best friend’s opinion before the official opening in the afternoon. How things had changed in eight years.
Eight years ago, Ally had been all set to do a course in beauty at the college and Emma was destined for university. She had made it there, but at the time she’d had to prioritise.
Emma swallowed as she caught sight of their reflection in the wall-width mirror. Self-consciously, she scraped her blonde bobbed hair behind both ears. Compared to Ally she looked like Cinderella in the pre-ball rags period. Ally was dressed in designer wear, all coiffured and tweaked, not an eyelash out of place. Emma was wearing jeans she’d had for years and a much-loved, shapeless, cream, long-sleeved top. Money was tight and Dominic came first.
‘So, are you staying for the ribbon-cutting?’ Ally asked, checking her watch.
‘No, I’ve got to pick Dominic up from swimming in…’ She checked her watch. ‘God, fifteen minutes. I’d better go.’
‘No more rushing about for you in a few months. We’ll be doing swimming lessons here, you know,’ Ally proudly reminded her.
‘I know, you’ve given me at least five leaflets about it. I’ve got to go,’ Emma said, embracing her friend and trying not to crinkle her so obviously new suit.
‘You and Chris are coming to the gala dinner tonight though, aren’t you? I’ve invited Councillor Martin. I know you’re desperate to bend his ear about more funding for the school,’ Ally said.
‘Yes, we’re coming. My dad’s babysitting Dominic and we have a pass out until at least midnight. Later if I leave him chocolate Bourbons,’ Emma said, grinning.
She’d been looking forward to the gala dinner since Ally told her about it. Usually the closest she got to dressing-up was when she decided her students at the school needed period costume to help them understand the era they were studying. With a young son and a boyfriend who worked unsociable hours as a taxi driver, nights on the razz were very few and far between. She only hoped tonight wouldn’t be tainted by the question she still hadn’t answered. He’d said the words, marry me, like he’d said them twice before. This time she had sighed heavily, patted his arm and taken a pile of towels up to the airing cupboard. She knew it wasn’t what he’d hoped for and she wondered how long he would keep asking before he gave up on her.
‘How’s your dad’s internet dating going?’ Ally asked, opening the door and leading her friend back out to the balloon-adorned reception area.
‘He’s going on a second date with Velma the dog trainer next week,’ she announced with a giggle.
‘Blimey! I thought you said she brought one of her dogs along to the last date.’
‘She did. Dad likes dogs,’ Emma said.
‘I’m saying nothing.’
‘So, who’s the celebrity you managed to con into opening this fitness and wellness spectacular for the prize of a money-off voucher for the butcher’s?’ Emma asked. She pushed open the main door and got her hair whipped up by the breeze.
‘Ah well, I had got Jason Simpson. You know, England’s number ten, scores loads of goals every week for Finnerham United. The kids absolutely love him, the women adore him, the men respect him, and I was clapping my hands together…’ Ally began.
‘He can’t come, can he?’
‘He’s gone and done in one of those crucial ligaments or something and they’re operating… today,’ Ally informed her with a frustrated sigh.
‘And?’
‘And I’m left with some new guy they’ve just signed from France. Now what was his name? Guy. That’s right, Guy Duval. He probably can’t speak the lingo, no one will understand a word he says and, knowing my luck, he’ll look like the back end of a bus,’ Ally gabbled.
‘Guy Duval,’ Emma said. Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
Marry me. Marry me. Marry me. The images were already in her head: his dark hair, his emerald-coloured eyes, his