Mel and Dani had no answers, no advice, no platitudes or reassurances that it would be okay. They knew as well as anyone that sometimes things were far from okay, and not every ending was a happy one. But they had love, and care and hugs and soft hands to stroke my hair, and somehow that felt even better than if they’d waved a magic wand and banished old Amy forever. I clung on to my friends’ strength, their unspoken promise to keep turning up if they were worried about me, breaking in if necessary. And I found hope there. So I sucked up their kindness, and as I applied some of that kindness to myself, it shrivelled my self-hate and shooed away my shame.
Before Mel and Dani left, we watched six episodes in a row of a cheesy reality show where brides- and-grooms-to-be who’d all been through horrible life situations, like cancer or having their house burn to the ground, got an amazing wedding, along with extras like replacement houses thrown in.
Cue more blubbering. Times three.
I would need to go out and get more tissues.
Only I couldn’t, because despite all the encouragement and support, despite my recommitment to getting back on the Programme, my determination to keep pushing forwards, to celebrate my progress so far, I was still trapped. My prison had expanded, yes. Considerably, compared to what it had been. But it was still infinitesimal compared to the great, big, wonderful world out there. I remained a hostage to the night.
Stepping out into the sunshine of a summer’s day still seemed as impossible on day sixty-six of the Stop Being a Loser Programme as it had on day one. Cutting the ribbon in front of a crowd of people, inside the Amelia Piper swimming centre? Cheering at the side of the pool while Joey competed in the Gladiators trials? For a woman who couldn’t even get to the corner shop to buy more tissues? Well, that made me need a tissue more than ever.
26
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Sixty-Seven
Early the next morning, I broke my pact with Joey and bullied my reluctant bones out the door for a solo run. Dani had offered to go with me, but I declined.
Stepping back out onto the front path was hard, but I breathed and focused and turned the volume on my running playlist up to max and I kept on going. I found my stride in amongst the pine trees at the top of the first hill, scampering alongside an early morning squirrel. Sucking in as much of the icy air as my lungs could manage while gasping for breath, I savoured the whip of the wind against my burning cheeks, imagined all the places it had blown through on its way here. Frozen fjords? Churning oceans, humpback whales cavorting below? Whizzing between mountains, ruffling the bracken as it sped past. Over moors and meadows, carrying eagles and sparrows, buffeting fishermen and farmers, foxes and field mice. And I was out here and a part of it. I celebrated the fresh air, the leaves tumbling past me, the muddy squelch of every joyous step. I relished muscles aching, feet pounding, chest heaving. A body flowing, a soul awakening, a heart thundering with life.
I slowed down to a walk at the end of my road, feeling deliciously spent and ready for a hot shower and a bowl of porridge before work. I nearly stopped when I saw the black car parked three doors down from my house. A Mercedes. There was a shadow in the driver’s seat.
I ordered my stiff, stilted legs to keep moving. I didn’t have to pass the car to get inside, but still got close enough to send my anxiety into hyperdrive. Stumbling down my path, I fell through the front door and somehow managed to close and lock it before collapsing onto the hall floor.
‘Tough run, Mum?’ Joey wandered into the kitchen doorway, bowl and spoon in hand, tiny dribble of milk running down his chin due to speaking through a mouthful of cereal.
‘Eat at the table, please,’ I wheezed back, lifting my cheek off the laminate. ‘And great run, actually.’ I could have mentioned the car to Joey, but if it was still here I knew he’d be outside, knocking on the driver’s window while still chewing on his peanut butter clusters.
Despite the ridiculous rumours, at no point had the mysterious Mercedes driver of Brooksby done anything to harm anyone. Certainly nothing worth hiding in my house peeping through the blinds and panicking over.
What would a non-loser do?I asked myself.
I listened to my gala-winning son belting out an indistinguishable rock anthem from the bathroom, and added a new step to the Programme:
Next time I see the Mercedes, go and find out who it is.
27
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Sixty-Eight
There is a difference between brave and reckless, I chided, as I scribbled that new step out the following day.
I’d had another email. Not from Sean, but equal in its power to stir up nauseating memories.
The email was from a journalist, Moira Vanderbeek. She’d become aware of the Amelia Piper Swimming Centre and thought the public would be very interested to hear my story, finally revealing the truth about why I gave up competitive swimming, what happened next and how I’d rebuilt a new life for myself away from the spotlight.
My mind jumped back to an enquiry from a potential client a few days ago that suddenly went cold. My phone number was on the bottom of my work email signature. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard for a journalist to find out where I lived.
If it wasn’t too hard thirteen years ago, when I wasn’t working for a company that handed out my details willy-nilly, and no one in the world save my boyfriend and his brother knew my temporary hideout, I was pretty sure that they could manage it now.
I wondered if Moira Vanderbeek drove a Mercedes.
I pondered whether she’d hang out in the local leisure centre car park hoping to catch the ex-world champion going for a swim, maybe get the zoom lens out and start snapping her cellulite. I considered whether she’d snooped about in the local swimming club circles until discovering that the best swimmer in the league, scouted by the Gladiators, who attended Brooksby Academy, happened to have the surname Piper.
At that point, I threw up, cleaned myself up, sent an email begging my boss to take my details off the company website and spent the rest of the morning wondering what the hell I was going to do.
