I take a deep breath and press delete, one hundred per cent sure that he will be far better off not getting involved with a bitter, twisted mess like me. It would never have worked anyway. He didn’t even put a x at the end of his text. If you kiss someone like that then decency dictates that an x must be put at the end of a text to that someone. Forget him. Him and his freakishly beefy arms. And his abnormal height. And his ridiculous girlish giggling.
Then he sends another one. ‘Too busy staring at pebbles?’
Cheeky feck.
Just because he’s some sort of life coach expert sent to discredit me, doesn’t mean he can patronise me. He barely knows me. He can’t judge me on what he has seen so far.
My mind flies back to the crying at the airport, the lies he overheard on the bus, the stealing at the retreat, the begging him to pretend to be a client, the rolling around on the carpet, the wailing and the sobbing in his arms about how much I hate my life.
Now I think about it, maybe he has seentoomuch. Maybe pursuing this relationship would be a waste of both our times. I have been down this road before. This texting is indisputable proof of rule breaking, and will only lead to me being humiliated on record.
I will put a stop to it. I don’t want to seem impolite. But I do want to seem decisive. ‘Under the circumstances, it’s probably best if you don’t contact me again.’
I take a deep breath in. At least that is one less thing to worry about. I’ve done the right thing. He will know that I am serious about my profession and think twice before taking my licence away. Plus, it will only be a matter of time before Ava gets her claws into him anyway - taking everything that is mine as usual. I tap my wrists a few times and rub my chakras with a bunch of dried sage leaves, the one thing that Gandalf did get right.
I’m not sure I should have sent that text to Oliver. It sounds rude now that I’ve thought about it.
He hasn’t replied, not that I blame him. I can’t help but ruin things for myself. I lie back on my couch and take a deep breath in.
Chapter 25
Thelateafternoonisso quiet, the heat from the sun pouring in through the window has the effect of a horse tranquilizer, and what with all the rubbing of crystals, I doze off by accident.
I’m surprised to be shaken awake.Why? Why? Am I elderly now?Is that it?
It’s my sister. ‘Hey Nelly-Belly, are you okay?’
I struggle to sit up. I feel stiff and achy. She tells me that she’s heading home, the paperwork has been successfully filed away and she asks if it is okay to get a lift with me. In my groggy state, I agree, and then she asks if we could also drop Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen off on the way, as she lives not far from us. This is news to me. Again, I hear myself agreeing.
Christ, I’d better wake up quickly before I commit to anything else that I’d normally say a firmnoto. But she hits me again, by the look on her face, with the world’s best idea.
‘Or even better, we could go for a few drinks right now! MJ, HOW ABOUT A FEW DRINKS RIGHT NOW INSTEAD?’
‘CLARO QUE SI, ABBA, MUY BUEN IDEA!’ Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen answers with an excited bout of hissing.
Christ! BFFs already. Not once has Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen EVER asked me to go for a drink after work. I am determined not to let my feelings show and almost split my face trying to conjure up a smile.
‘Great,’ I say, not quite meeting my sister’s eyes. ‘I’ll drop you both off on the promenade.’
‘Actually, I meant all three of us,’ she says. I fix her a look and I can see pity emanating from her eyes.
‘I have my spinning class,’ I say stiffly.
Well, I would have my spinning class if I’d bothered to join a gym.
‘Oh,’ she says, sounding disappointed. ‘I was hoping that I could just buy a few rounds to say a sort of thanks from me for, well, everything, you know.’
I glare at her.
‘My treat,’ she adds.
My head is full of misery over what I did to Oliver. I’d do anything to take that text back. He must think I’m so rude after he’s been nothing but lovely and supportive. Even if he is an ICF spy. Maybe I should go out and get shitfaced. It might help me cope with Ava and this awful situation between us.
I nod slowly. ‘Yes, whatever, just one.’
In a daze, I drag myself up. I take two minutes to splash water on my face to wake up a bit. I hear Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen call through, ‘Miss Weston? Abba ees doing our make-up before we go for thee dreenks!’
I walk through to reception to see it has turned into a pop-up salon with hair and make-up products scattered all over the desk. My sister has put on some Latino music, and they are dancing about and swishing blusher over their cheeks and posting endless selfies of their nose-contouring journey to her Instagram. She has managed to transform Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen from sullen vampire to very gorgeous vamp and she is emitting that familiar but strange hissing sound again.