gym is a place where I want everyone to feel safe, and so you won’t be welcome here any longer. I’ll refund the balance of your membership.’
‘But… I pay for daily personal training sessions, and I don’t even use half of them!’ Fabian spluttered. ‘I’m worth almost twenty grand a year to you. These girls pay peanuts. Are you trying to destroy your business?’
Mike folded his arms over his chest. His hands barely reached his elbows because his pecs and biceps were so big. ‘Money isn’t everything. And I prefer clients who actually follow my advice. Wherever you go next, Fabian, listen to them when they tell you you need to do cardio as well as lift, and you need to have a healthy lifestyle, too. Maybe slow down on the Colombian marching powder and the little blue pills. No point having the best body in the morgue, right?’
Fabian looked at him like he was getting ready to protest, or even fight. But Mike’s face was implacable, and in that moment actually quite scary.
‘Fine.’ Fabian let go of Dani and spun around on his designer trainers. ‘There are plenty of better places than this. See if I care.’
And he flounced off through the gap in the metal shutters. I heard the roar of his car’s powerful engine, and then, instead of it fading into the distance, I heard a sickening crunch and a tinkle of glass. Through the open door, I could see the bollard he’d reversed into, his car’s crumpled bumper and a group of teenage boys outside the fried chicken shop breaking into ironic cheers.
Dani didn’t notice the unfolding drama, though. She was gazing at Mike, wide-eyed, like she’d never seen him before, a huge happy smile spreading over her face.
Twenty-Nine
There is good fortune in the stars today, Aquarius. Just don’t expect any of it to be coming your way, okay?
‘Zoë? Earth to Zoë?’ Robbie poked me in the ribs with a wooden spoon and I jumped like he’d given me an electric shock.
‘What? What do you want?’
‘I’ve asked you four times if you want coffee, twice if you want to use the posh honey we got from Archie in the blondies or the standard stuff, and three times if you wanted to take some of those butternut squash and sage bruschetta out for Maurice and the boys to try, or whether I should do it and get the glory. And you’ve been completely blanking me. I know you’re a bit long in the tooth at almost twenty-eight but it’s a bit early to be going deaf, surely?’
‘Sorry. I was miles away. Yes to coffee, we may as well go ahead and use the posh honey, and I’ll handle the quality control. Thanks, Robbie.’
‘No worries.’ He switched on the coffee machine, its full-throated roar convincing me that I wasn’t in fact going deaf.
I had been lost in my thoughts, and I was still. I picked up the plate of toasted bruschetta topped with rich roast squash, drizzled with sage oil and sprinkled with nduja crumbs and carried them out to the bar, where Maurice, Terry, Sadiq and Ray were beginning their dominoes game. Alice was behind the bar; Kelly was down on her knees with a dustpan and brush cleaning up the crumbs left by the mums and tots group. Fat Don was on his usual stool, sipping his pint. Frazzle was spread out on the chaise longue in a patch of sun.
The Ginger Cat felt the same as it did on any Wednesday morning: bright, cheerful and serenely busy. But I felt different. I felt like I’d been hollowed out inside. It wasn’t hunger; Robbie had insisted I ate a bowl of granola when I got in that morning after fussing over me and demanding to know why I was looking like a vampire’s cold leftovers, and I’d confessed that I’d had no supper the night before and almost no sleep.
‘Are you going to tell us what those are, love?’ Ray asked. ‘Or are you just going to stand there staring at them?’
‘Sorry, sorry!’ I’d walked across the room to the dominoes table on autopilot, my mind in another place entirely. ‘They’re a new snack we’re thinking of putting on the autumn bar menu. What do you reckon?’
I put the plate on the table and stood there as I always did, waiting for their verdict.
‘What’s this brown stuff then?’ Terry poked a suspicious finger at the top of one of the bruschetta.
‘It’s an nduja crumb.’
‘And what’s that