Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!. Catherine Ferguson
she’d joined the gym, I’d calmed down and rationalised the whole incident.
It had been horrible to see my old tormentor. Kids could be so nasty. But we weren’t at school any more. We no longer had teenage hormones rampaging round our systems, thank goodness. We were adults.
When I saw her again, I’d smile to show her I’d forgotten all about the past and maybe we could move on. By the look of her slim figure she was probably heading for a spin class or something equally horrific.
Barb headed for her fitness assessment but I was booked in later, so I decided to check out the treadmills and cross-trainers. I’d been on a treadmill at a hotel spa once and, as far as I could remember, it was easy enough to operate.
I pushed open the door and stared in shock. The treadmills and cross-trainers were lined up in ranks like an army of soldiers, row upon row, all facing the big screen TVs on the far wall. The place was packed to the rafters with a hundred sweaty bodies going for gold and the high-octane music was deafening.
Still clinging onto the door, I peered around for a vacant cross-trainer and eventually spotted one. Unfortunately right at the front.
A man in green Lycra, pounding a nearby treadmill, turned and stared accusingly at me, sweat dripping from his face to the floor. Hurriedly, I shut the door behind me and headed for the cross-trainer, trying my best to look cool and nonchalant, even when I accidentally tripped over my own feet.
After casually throwing my towel over the front of the machine, I studied the control panel. Numbers and words swam before my eyes in an indecipherable mess. Oh shit, how the hell did I make it start? I glanced at my neighbours but both were far too ‘in the zone’ to bother with my stupid questions.
Then over to my left, among the weights machines, I suddenly spotted a face I knew.
Crystal.
She was talking to a tall guy with dark hair and well-toned muscles, and she kept laughing and twirling her hair flirtatiously.
My first instinct was to run out of there before she saw me, because all those horrible feelings had started to flood right back again.
But I made myself stop and take a slug of water.
I reminded myself we weren’t kids any more. We were mature adults now, our schooldays long behind us, and if I was going to be a regular visitor here, it would hardly be practical if I had to leg it every time I spotted Crystal looming on the horizon.
This was the perfect opportunity to build bridges and put the past behind us.
I still hung back, though, not sure if I should interrupt her chat with the dark-haired guy. But then he walked off to a nearby machine.
Right. Excellent.
I’d go over and ask Crystal for help working the cross-trainer, we’d get talking like proper grown-ups and hey presto. Nasty past banished!
As I approached with my plastered-on smile, she narrowed her eyes as if trying to place me.
‘Hi, Crystal. Sorry to disturb. We were at Highfield Primary together? But maybe you don’t remember.’ I laughed nervously. ‘Let’s face it, who the hell in their right mind actually wants to remember their school days?’
She stopped, with a weight in each hand, and I couldn’t help noticing her impressively toned arms.
‘Anyway, I’ve just joined the gym,’ I rushed on, ‘and I was trying to work out how to operate the cross-trainer. Always been useless at stuff like that. Wondered if you could help?’
Her eyes widened with sudden recognition.
‘Well, well, well,’ she said, slowly. ‘It’s Lola. Lola Plumpton.’ She smiled. A thin, tight smile. ‘Or Lola Plump-Arse as some of those nightmare kids used to call you.’
She shook her head at the sheer cheek of them.
‘Er, yes, that’s me.’ I smiled brightly. ‘Anyway, could you just—?’
‘You’ve lost weight.’ She scanned me from head to foot. ‘Unless it’s the black gym gear, of course. Black always hides a multitude of lumps and bumps.’
‘Absolutely.’ I was determined to remain upbeat. ‘And now that I’m a member of this place, there’ll be no stopping me. Elle McPherson look out!’
‘Right, well, there’s always hope.’ She smiled. Actually, it was more like a sneer.
‘So, could you help…?’ I pointed at the machines.
‘Sure. I just need to hydrate.’ She pressed my arm. ‘Great to see you, Lola, after all this time. Really great.’
She sounded genuine and I relaxed slightly. ‘You, too, Crystal.’
‘Could you hold these a minute?’
‘No problem.’ Without thinking, I reached for the dumb-bells. She dumped them into my hand and headed for the water cooler.
I wasn’t prepared for the dead weight.
Roughly ten kilos tumbled instantly through my hand and plummeted to the floor, smacking against my ankle bone on the way.
Tears pricked my eyes.
I doubled over and slowly mimed an agonised scream as the pain gradually subsided to a dull pulse. Then I sat down on the floor to inspect the damage.
Crystal’s unconcerned laughter drifted over from the water station, where she was hanging around, chatting to some gym buddy. She’d seen me, I knew.
I rubbed my throbbing ankle.
So she hadn’t changed at all.
Mind you, now I thought about it, the piggy eyes hadn’t changed either. Her body might be a babe’s but sadly for Crystal, her eyes would always be reminiscent of an altogether different Babe.
‘You’re going to have a nasty bruise there,’ said a voice above me.
I looked up to find the dark-haired man – the one Crystal had been flirting with – smiling down at me.
‘I saw what happened,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Do you want me to have a look? I’m studying sports injuries with a view to becoming a personal trainer, so I know what I’m doing.’
‘Er, yes, that would be great, thanks,’ I said, blushing.
He dropped down beside me and bent over my foot.
I tried not to stare at his thick dark hair, well-defined forearms and the strong, capable hands that were probing my foot oh-so-gently. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Crystal practically dislocating her neck to get a better view.
My handsome saviour delivered his verdict. ‘Nothing broken. But you could probably do with an ice pack on that. I’m Nathan, by the way.’
He held out his hand and helped me to my feet.
Crystal was speeding over.
‘Are you all right?’ she gasped, full of concern that might have been touching had it been genuine.
I beamed at her. ‘Oh yes, I’m sure I’ll survive.’ Especially with Nathan still holding my hand.
‘Come on,’ he murmured, leading me to the door. ‘Let’s get you seen to.’ He raised his free hand. ‘Bye, Crys.’
He managed to procure an ice pack from somewhere and we sat in the café, my foot up on a stool.
‘Can I buy you a coffee as a thank you?’ I asked.
‘Do you know what that stuff does to your body? Pure evil.’ He gave me a heart-flipping smile. ‘A mineral water would be great, though.’
So we sat and chatted about our lives. Nathan was assistant manager at a local supermarket – the one where I usually shopped – but his