Out Late with Friends and Regrets (44 page)

There was laughter in Rosemary’s tone, but Fin felt bad.

“Tell you what,” she said, “how about Wednesday? Could you both make lunch in Harford?”

“I could definitely wangle an extra hour of flexi-time, and I think Siobhan’s on nights, so that would work. Where and when?”

They made arrangements. From no social life to a calendar that needed juggling was yet another exhilarating leap, Fin reflected.

She printed out all the material on the Pro-Train website, and studied it.
 
It really didn’t make sense to do an expensive training course right after Christmas.
 
And there was the accommodation to consider, too.
 
Evidently there was homework set for each night of the course, both practical and theory, so a B&B would be unsuitable.
 
She smiled at the thought of an imaginary Mrs. Clutterbuck of Sunnyview, cocking a baffled ear up the stairs as the latest guest practised star jumps in front of the narrow mirror on the walnut veneer wardrobe.
 
Probably most unfair; the Mrs. Cs of today would be all Ikea. She searched
 
the motel chains, finding that the weekly rates were not expensive, and the rooms a fair size.
 
Private, impersonal, and a shower ensuite. Ideal.
 
The whole idea grew on her as she thought about it.

As she ate her evening meal she even began to get excited.
 
She was sure she could learn, even after so many years.
 
Some of the students she had met made her think that, had she not sacrificed her freedom of choice, she could have made it to university, and come out with a degree, too; these students weren’t all intellectual gods, by any means.
 
Needless to say, a piffling little course for fitness instructors hardly compared with years of real study, but it would be good to see how she did compared with others on the same road.
 
She had been lazy at school but good at passing exams, to the extent that even her favourite nuns had been lukewarm in their praise when top marks were denied to those who tried hardest.

But she had changed.
 
She could really work, now.
 
A challenge, it would be a challenge.
 
And perhaps at some time in the future she might try for a degree, just to prove to herself that she could do it.
 
A good while passed before she realised she had been dreaming, the way she used to do sitting at her desk next to the classroom window, looking at the sky, dreaming dreams of escape and adventure.

She pulled herself together, finished her rapidly cooling meal, and did a few sums, with the happy reflection that figures could always be used to prove anything, and that in fact the decision was made.
 
It was just a question of sorting out the financial how of it.
 
She had been suckered by the sales pitch and knew it, but she didn’t care; she had to have one of those places.

When she rang Dek in the morning, to ask him how he felt about coping unaided for three weeks in January, he was characteristically positive.

“Great stuff, somebody’s got to keep the old biddies doing high kicks,” he said.
 
“Takes one to teach one, I guess.”

“You’re lucky I’m not there right now.
 
You wouldn’t dare say that to my face.”

  
        
“You’re right, boss.
 
I’ve heard about the grey mafia.
 
I can’t bear the thought of finding my gerbil’s severed head in my bed.”

“Den you bedder show me some reshpect...”

“Sure boss, sure.
 
Actually, I can’t see too much of a problem, Fin, the sale will be pretty well over by the time you go.”

“Thanks Dek.
 
See you tomorrow.”

Once the course and the hotel were booked and on her credit card, she counted how many days there were to go, and wondered what it would be like.

On Wednesday morning she went into Harfordleisure, in the hope she might get hold of any staff member who might have been on a similar course to hers, and who could give her some insights.
 
But mornings ran on a skeleton staff, with instructors mainly rushing in for their class and dashing off again when it finished.
 
The receptionist on duty was alone, and had no time to speak.
 
So she bought a smoothie in the cafe and watched the badminton players from its balcony.
 
A little after eleven, a man wearing staff kit came in and sat down with a coffee, and she was pleased to recognise Michael.
 
He opened up a newspaper, and she wondered whether to interrupt him.
 
It was, after all, what she had come for.

“Hello Michael,” she said tentatively, to the open Daily Mirror.

“Oh,
Fin
,” he replied, lowering it with a wide smile, “How are you getting on? I’ve seen you around, but never close enough to say Hi.
 
Enjoying the centre?”

“Very much, thanks, Michael, but I actually wanted to find out if you knew anything about training courses – I’ve booked up for one, and I don’t know at all what to expect.
 
You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, sit down over here, do you mean instructor training?”

“Yes, actually.
 
I know I’m a bit old for it, but I’d really like to give it a go, before it really is too late.”

“It’s never too late, Fin, good for you!” he said, as she sat at his table, “I’m a gym instructor, so I can’t give you any stuff about the Exercise-to-Music side of things, but there’s plenty of theory in common to the two – where’s it being held?”

“Birmingham, with Pro-Train. In January. Can you tell me a bit about what you actually have to learn?”

“Sure. First there’s basic physiology, skeleton, muscles, cardiovascular system, how everything works-”

In just three weeks? Fin began to feel a little daunted.
 

“Maybe I can get some of this off the internet and do some pre-course study.”

“Why not?” he said, “Good idea, get a head start.
 
You’ll probably find there’s an ex-nurse or med. student in your intake who’ll make everyone else feel like wallies – happened in my lot.”

She could set herself a target, learn something new about the human body every day.
 
The obvious jest which followed on the heels of that thought made her smile.

“Then there’s customer care, dealing with complaints, environment, first aid, psychology, legal stuff, ooh, heaps of things.
 
And you’ll be learning how to analyse music and do choreography too, of course.”

For the first time Fin wondered whether she had been a little arrogant about what might be involved.

“Ooh-er.”

“Don’t let me put you off!
 
You’ll do fine. We could certainly do with more decent instructors in this place. There’s always a problem when anybody’s sick or on holiday, or if there’s nobody to look after the kids.
 
It’s whether the company’ll pay for ‘em.”

“So it’s pretty hard to get in?”

“You’ll get a job somewhere.
 
But you might have to go on the list of people who cover for absentees first.”

“ No guarantees, then.”
 

“No, but don’t be put off, Fin.
 
If you
want
to make it, you’ll make it.
 
If I could make a suggestion, forget the social life for a bit, and go to every class there is.
 
Watch the instructors, see what you think makes a good one really good, and why others don’t manage their classes so well – that’s almost as important.
 
You’ll learn a hell of a lot.”

“Michael, thank you so much, that’s been a real help,” said Fin, “I’m off now – meeting someone for lunch at twelve. Thanks.”

“Lunch date, huh? Oh dear, that’s a romance that’s doomed already.
 
I hope you’ll tell her you’ll be out of the loop for a while.”

“Friends, actually.”

“Well, I’d better be getting back to work. Good luck with the study.”

She hadn’t mentioned the training course to Rosemary on the phone, so it made a good topic of conversation for her to introduce, once greetings had been exchanged and lunch ordered.

“I adore starting something new,” said Siobhan, “Harford General is a terriffic hospital to work in, and I love my little flat.”

She had let her hair grow a little longer, and the way it curled under her ears made her look even more elfin than Fin remembered.

“You must have been lucky,” said Fin, thinking of Clutton Street.

“Oh, yes, Rosemary told me you were living in total squalor,” said Siobhan with a smile, “we’ll be coming to inspect the new place to make sure it’s fit for human habitation.”

“Great! I think it’ll pass,”replied Fin.

“Trust me, I’m a nurse. And meanwhile, Friends of Harford General are holding a 5K round the park on Saturday to raise funds – can I count you in? Get you match-fit for your course?”

“She can’t, not on a Saturday,” said Rosemary, “you’re needed in the shop on a Saturday, aren’t you, Fee?”

“Definitely, this Saturday, unfortunately,” said Fin. “Are you running, Siobhan?”

“Yes. Maybe we could run together sometime.”

It was a leisurely lunch, and Fin ate too much. Oh well, another half-hour on the machines, next time she was in the gym. Rosemary left to make the journey across town to get back to work, and Fin ordered coffee for herself and Siobhan. Without Rosemary there she expected some difficulty in keeping the conversation flowing, but Siobhan was an easy companion, with a ready wit and her brother’s charm.

Fin excused herself to go to the Ladies, and as she washed her hands June appeared in the mirror, standing behind her.

“Funny how we keep running into each other, Fin,” said June, her voice teasing.

“Hello June. Nice to see you, but I’m having lunch with someone.”

“So I saw. She’s very lovely. Well done!”

“Just a friend.”

“Of course,” said June, placing her hands on Fin’s hips, then sliding them round to the front of her body. The feel of their transit barely penetrated the two layers of clothing between them and her skin, but it was just a little too long before she brushed them away.
 
June laughed.
 

“Can’t help yourself, can you, darling?
Very
exciting.”

“Go away, brazen woman, and let me get back to my girlfriend.”

“Threesome?”

With an exaggerated tut and a sigh, Fin pushed open the doors and returned to her table.

Winter began to drain the skies.
 
Fin had taken Michael’s advice and spent much time at Harfordleisure, trying out various types of class and trying to get inside the instructors’ perspective. She didn’t join the gaggle of studio schmoozers who hung around and chatted to the teacher afterwards; she didn’t want anyone to know her plans, and hoped that Michael wouldn’t discuss it.
 
But she was soon on speaking terms with many of the regulars, most of them hard-working family women.
 
Showing an interest and encouraging them to talk in the dressing room gave her insights into the way they viewed the classes, and their feelings about the teaching were often surprising.
 
Certainly, not all liked to be challenged, and an instructor with good technical skills was less admired than a happy-go-lucky individual with the ability to wisecrack her way out of sending the class in the wrong direction.