‘Only, he makes a rule of keeping his address private, even for clients he forms a close bond with.’ Selena raised one eyebrow. ‘I would know.’
‘Selena, unless anything actually happened between you and Nathan, like, a kiss or him saying he found you attractive, or anything to suggest the infatuation was not one hundred per cent one-sided, it’s probably time you dropped it,’ Bronwyn sighed. ‘Given that everyone here has seen how he acts around Amy, unless he’s also asked to giveyoupersonal, private extra coaching, which somehow includes wine and cheese and dancing, lunch out and the kind of marathons that include pyjamas and romantic Christmas films, you’re only making a fool out of yourself.’
For once, Selena was speechless.
She wasn’t the only one.
‘Eh, Ames might know where Nathan lives!’ Mel looked at me, a forkful of sausage halfway to her mouth.
Ames might, but Ames’s intestines shrivelled up like a salty slug at the thought of the Larks trooping round to Nathan’s and demanding to know why he’d ditched them, only to hear his no doubt wholly factual and emotion-free report on how he was accosted in the Leisure Centre changing rooms. Not only would Ames be the fool, not Selena, she’d also be the fool who went so far as to force Nathan to leave the Larks, thrusting Kommando Kim on them instead.
‘Maybe we should instigate a mutiny,’ Bronwyn mused. ‘Kick her out and run it ourselves. Who says a democracy won’t work better?’
‘I say!’ Marjory chipped in around a mouthful of oats. ‘You lot, bickering and blathering like a herd of menopausal sheep. No thank you!’
‘You run the Larks, then,’ Dani said. ‘You and Amy. Surely you know more between you than Power-Krazed Kim.’
‘I know how I can succeed,’ Marjory pointed her spoon at us. ‘But you might have noticed I’m not a natural team player. And I’ve no idea how to teach what I know. Not a clue how to get the best out of you, or find the tipping point where a challenging encouragement becomes a discouraging impossibility.’
‘Amy?’ Dani asked.
‘I don’t think so…’
‘Why not?’
‘Because – no offence, Amy…’ Selena started.
‘Uh oh, prepare to be offended,’ Bronwyn cut in, eyes wide over the rim of her coffee.
Selena ploughed on. ‘First and foremost, a coach needs the respect and trust of their squad. It’s not good enough to be liked. We listen to Nathan because he puts the team first, above the individual. He doesn’t let feelings get in the way. Amy’s all very nice and lovely, and the campaign is fantastic, she’s been brilliant, but when it comes down to it, she’s with the Larks for her own sake, not ours.’
‘Selena, that is harsh, even by your standards,’ Dani scolded.
Selena shrugged. ‘If Amy can swear that, no matter what, she’ll be there on the day and give it her best, then go ahead, I’ll be the first to kick Kim to the kerb.’
I took a deep breath, tried and failed to swallow the lump of self-loathing in my throat. ‘Maybe we should trust Nathan enough to give Kim a chance.’
I expected Selena to gloat, crow ‘I told you so’ or get angry. Seeing her slowly push back her chair and walk out felt even worse.
56
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day One Hundred and Eighty-Four
For the next three weeks, Nathan didn’t return. After Kim’s second training session, he sent a couple of ambiguous messages to the group saying that he greatly respected Kim as a trainer, that while her methods were different they were effective. He hoped to be back with us soon, but would definitely see us at the triathlon if not before.
I did see him before, at a Saturday swimming meet, but with parents confined to the viewing area, it wasn’t hard for him to get away with a polite nod of hello from a distance.
That was okay, I kept telling myself. A lesson learnt for my new out and about life: Don’t lean longingly into a friend’s personal space unless you want a permanent, jagged splinter in your heart. I had started the Programme on my own, I could finish it that way. That is, if Mel and Dani let me. They had taken it upon themselves to be my chaperones, reintroducing me into local society, and so far this had included a karaoke night (yes, we did indeed rock out to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’), spa afternoon and, the previous Tuesday, the biggest, loudest and messiest pancake day celebration ever, at Mel’s house. Joey ate seventeen pancakes, ditching his new training diet for the day in order to beat Jordan’s sixteen. Sean came, along with Tiff’s dad, and Gordon, Tate’s relief carer, so with Mel’s mum too we were a well-rounded gathering.
But time was ticking.
I was doing well, overall, smashing my Programme targets. Totally on track to accompany Joey at his trials, functioning as a nearly-normal human adult. But in six weeks, it would be the triathlon, and while Kommando Kim had certainly improved my fitness through her hideous insult-destroy-and-conquer method, I hadn’t even looked at my swimming costume since the changing room incident, or faced returning to the leisure centre, and had no plan for getting myself back into a pool.
I wondered about asking Mel and Dani to come with me, but I didn’t want them to see me so vulnerable. This still felt too deep to involve them. I considered Cee-Cee, even Sean, but their presence would probably only make things worse. Plus, I didn’t trust them not to tell Joey about it afterwards.
So instead I wittered, and wavered, and hoped and prayed that Nathan would return to the Larks, or bump into me in the street sometime, or message me to ask how things were going and by the way did I fancy going swimming sometime.
