‘It opens on Easter Monday. The last weekend in April.’ My liver did a tiny quiver and I tried not to think about the glossy invitation.
‘That’s, what, a fifteen-minute bus ride? If the trial can be postponed ’til April, then Joey can up his training at Brooksby in the meantime. I’d be really happy to do some extra sessions, give him a feel for what it’s like training every day, at that level. I’ve not coached anyone for nationals before, but I’ve spent quite a bit of time with the Loughborough Uni squad. What do you think, Joey?’
Joey sat up, resting his arms on crossed legs. ‘I sort of want to get it done as soon as I can. I’ll be years behind most of the squad already. But if I can get more training in and get in the best shape possible when I join, that’s good.’
‘I honestly don’t know how else we’d work it,’ I said. ‘Even if someone gave you a lift every day, you’d not manage it. They won’t tolerate two minutes late for training because the traffic was bad.’
He mused on this for a while. ‘And by April it’ll be easier for you to come. You’ll be smashing the Programme.’
‘The Programme?’ Nathan asked, completely overstepping into none of his business.
‘I’m working on my agoraphobia,’ I muttered, before Joey could mention the actual title.
‘Ah, okay. Is running part of the Programme?’
‘Are we done talking about me?’ Joey asked, standing up and stretching until his fingers brushed the ceiling. ‘Great. See you, Coach. Oh, and awesome. Thanks.’
They did some male fist-bump thing and Joey left. As in, left me and Nathan, the incredibly fit-looking guy who suddenly seemed to take up half of my living room, alone, together. In a previous life, I’d been conditioned to appreciate tall people with broad shoulders who loved swimming, but now I had no idea how to converse politely with a stranger in my house.
‘Were you following me?’
Hello, Amy?!?THAT’Swhat you decide to blurt?!?
Nathan shuffled on the chair, picked up his glass and put it down again. ‘Um, I’d prefer to call it keeping an eye on you.’
What?! Hewasfollowing me? I gaped, unsure how to respond.
‘I feel nervous seeing women running alone. Someone I know got attacked a few years ago.’
‘Oh my goodness. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Was she okay? I mean, as okay as you can be, after…’
‘She’s in a wheelchair.’ Nathan shrugged. ‘Had a rough couple of years, but she’s doing really well now. Married Chris, the guy who runs the café in the square?’
‘Uh, yeah. I don’t know him…’
‘Right. Yes. Of course. Sorry.’
Please don’t apologise for momentarily forgetting I’m a social freak.
‘So, now you’ve taken it upon yourself to stalk random women about the woods to keep them safe?’ I smiled, to show I got it.
‘Precisely. I stalk the one random woman I’ve seen who’s either crazy or audacious enough to run alone, in the dark, through the middle of nowhere. Anyone else joins my club.’ He handed me a sky-blue flyer he’d pulled out of his tracksuit top.
‘The Larkabouts?’
‘An early morning running club. This time of year, we head out in the dark, so you should be fine.’
I scanned the leaflet. Wednesdays and Sundays, they met at Brooksby Leisure Centre at 6 a.m. A group of muddy women, arms around each other, grinned triumphantly at me.
‘They’re a really friendly, supportive group. You should come along, give it a go.’
‘Thanks, I’ll think about it.’ I wasn’t lying. I would definitely think about making sure my runs didn’t coincide with the Larkabouts. Staggering through the woods in my hideous leggings and ratty hoodie, thighs wobbling and chest jiggling, sweat dripping, heaving for breath and flinching at imaginary danger was bad enough on my own. Throw in introductions, small talk about my non-existent life – or even worse, my significant past life – flailing around miles behind the rest, soon becoming the comedy member of the group. Yuk. No thanks.
‘Great. I’ll look forward to seeing you there.’ Nathan’s soft grey eyes crinkled up in a smile.
Now that comment was almost enough to make me change my mind. Or sprint hell for leather in the opposite direction. I couldn’t decide which. I did wonder, after our slightly awkward goodbye, how many of the Larkabouts had suddenly found an interest in early morning running once they’d seen the head of the flock.
* * *
