‘You could always make some amendments to the rulebook, draft a new contract or whatever, for clients who also happen to be friends,’ I said, a few minutes later.
‘No point,’ Nathan replied, two steps behind me. ‘I’m not planning on this happening with anyone else. And any rules I come up with, you’ll just bend to suit you anyway.’
I looked over my shoulder, about to throw a witty, unbecoming retort back at him, but before I had a chance to think one up, my body, still mainly facing forwards, stepped out of the treeline onto the main road and simultaneouslyoofedinto another person.
‘Watch it, you idiot!’
My brain decided that now would be a good time to succumb to the cold weather and freeze completely solid.
* * *
Ten minutes – an age, an epic expedition later, with numerous pep talks and pauses to steady my breathing and bone-crushing grips of Nathan’s hand later – I finally reached the sanctuary of what turned out to be a tiny cottage on the edge of the village. About as functional and staid as I would have predicted a Robo-Coach’s house to be, I collapsed onto the leather couch, and immediately sprang upright again, rubbing my arm.
‘Okay?’
‘You really need some cushions in here. What kind of person buys a sofa with metal arms?’ Focusing on Nathan’s house rather than the dissipating panic helped reassure my scrambled head that I was now safely indoors.
‘The kind who doesn’t slob out or pass out unless he’s in bed, at the intended time.’
‘Or watching cheesy Christmas films in the middle of the afternoon,’ I smirked. ‘Maybe you should get a cushion in case a friend comes round and wants to be able to sit comfortably.’
He ignored me, holding out something that looked suspiciously like Joey’s old sports bag. ‘A change of clothes, and… ahem… whatever-else-you-need-I’m-sorry-this-is-still-weird-for-me.’
I took the bag. Weird for him? This was so off my radar, I was in need of a search party. I steeled my shoulders, made a feeble attempt at wrestling whatever hormones were making my nerves thrum back into whichever gland they were gushing from, and reminded myself that we were client-coach-friends. ‘Is the bathroom upstairs?’
‘Um. Yes. Yes, at the end of the landing.’
And for reasons of personal pride and general dignity, the less said about me being naked in Nathan’s shower cubicle, the better.
* * *
The best day of my life was when I was twelve years old. I know it’s supposed to be the day my son was born, but after sixteen hours hoping and praying that my mum would turn up, being yelled at by Cee-Cee about focus and self-discipline, on top of the pain and effort required to push out a ten pound baby, by the time Joey arrived I had no energy left to feel much at all.
But at twelve, on the day of the Regional Championships, I hit the side of the Ponds Forge Olympic pool in Sheffield, turned to see my arch-rival, Georgie Bannister, a good three seconds behind me, and in that moment, dripping, exhausted, lungs raw, I knew I had what it took. The confidence and the drive that won me a gold medal took root that day, as my squad, a mixture of envy and pride, argued about who got to sit next to me on the bus home. My coach patted me on the shoulder (which is more affection than she offered me in labour). A blushing Benji Simons gave me his Snickers bar, and my parents gushed the whole evening about agents and sponsorship, my mother drafting a resignation letter for her joke of a job as an entertainment consultant.
It was a milestone of a day, as I left one era behind and stepped boldly into another. In my mind from then on, there was only before and after. When I was just Amelia, a girl who was mad on swimming and loved the Sugababes, and Amelia Piper, future world champion.
My day out from sunrise to sunset was something like that day.
First of all, Nathan took me to the Grace Chapel in Brooksby, where I’d been for the carol service. It was a different place in the daylight – light and warm both at the same time, full of colour and energy and smiles and children running about chasing each other with catapults (which apparently was a one-time thing, linked to their Sunday school class, and definitely not happening again after a muffin from Mel’s refreshment stall was catapulted into the face of an elderly gentleman with cataracts). I hummed along to songs I didn’t know and cringed while the minister spoke about the power of forgiveness, including forgiving yourself, and how mistakes from our past can hold us back from our future. I didn’t dare glance up at Nathan, who seemed to be sniffing more than is socially acceptable for someone who hasn’t even got a cold. While at first a room full of strangers made my bones quake, I soon spotted people I recognised from the carol service and my school-gate days. Joey’s friend, Ben, was there with his mum, Lisa, who came over to chat, and, to my surprise, Marjory was right in the thick of it. Even those I didn’t know smiled and said hello, most of them presuming, for an awkward, lovely minute or two, that Nathan and I were a couple – understandable, given that he was holding my hand when we walked in.
After that, we changed pace at a local farm shop. Nathan hustled me round the fruit, vegetables, and delicatessen counters, insisting I squeezed, sniffed or sampled the produce as my anxiety buzzed in the background, as though trapped behind a pane of glass. We then moved next door to the farm café, gamely trying to fit in a huge bowl of parsnip and apple soup on top of all the free samples.
‘Am I really witnessing Nathan Gallagher eating bread, made of actual wheat?’ I asked, spreading my own slice with freshly churned, organic butter, glimmering with salt crystals.
‘Am I really seeing Amelia Piper, out in a public place in daylight, enjoying herself?’ he replied, before ripping a huge hunk off with his teeth.
And if that wasn’t enough, he ordered us both pear crumble for dessert. While we ate, I distracted myself from my anxiety by talking, determined to ignore the taunts that a random stranger would recognise me by focusing on the person right here. I relayed the phone call with my parents, the wise words from the sermon that morning still resonating. And that naturally led on to other things, like what had happened with Sean, and the years after Joey was born, and before I had time to finish my coffee, Nathan had somehow found out everything about me.
‘So, what about your family? I hope your parents aren’t as crap as mine.’
He shrugged, fingers tapping on the side of his green tea (one step at a time, people!). ‘They’re decent enough. Work too much, aren’t exactly demonstrative when it comes to affection. My dad loves sport, when he finds the time, so we always had that in common. Used to go to Trent Bridge for the test matches together, or down to Leicester for the rugby.’
‘Used to?’
He took a sip of tea before answering. ‘When Gill got attacked, I sort of went into survival mode. Head down, spending every day taking care of her, ticking off my lists so I knew I wouldn’t mess up again. Then, once she ended it, I suddenly had all this time to think, and none of those thoughts were good. I didn’t know how to handle the guilt and the shame at failing at something so important. I would cry or lose my temper in the worst places. My nephew’s first birthday party, or a family barbeque. So when I started staying away more, distancing myself, I think they were relieved. And then, as I built my business, I got busy. It’s easier, I suppose, to keep going as we are now.’
‘The easier route is rarely the best one. I should know. And so should a personal trainer and sports coach.’
