Darcie Boleyn - Something Old, Something New

‘Well I think you look great, Cass. Your hair is beautiful as always, your tan is well topped up and you’re in… what… size six workout gear?’

She giggles. ‘Size eight, darling. A six would be too scrawny.’ She runs a hand self-consciously over her taut neck.

I nod in agreement, absently tugging my baggy grey t-shirt over my threadbare black jogging bottoms. I have a feeling they’re actually an old pair of Dex’s, which would make them a men’s thirty-two or even a thirty-four. Something like that, I guess. I doubt I’d even squeeze one of my arms into Cassie’s fitted three-quarter length running pants, let alone a leg.

‘So you honestly think I look all right?’ She pouts her perfectly made-up lips at me and I nod.

‘Beautiful.’

‘My lips aren’t getting too thin?’

‘No, of course not.’ I shake my head. Unfortunately, Cassie has a penchant for cosmetic surgery. So far, she’s had two breast enhancements, some lipo and tried Botox – although she didn’t like the frozen forehead look so gave that up after the third appointment – and I’m worried that she’ll get addicted and become like the bride of Frankenstein or one of those celebs from the seventies who just refuse to age. I mean, do they really think it’s better to turn into something that resembles a plastic doll than to get a few wrinkles and red veins here and there? Or am I just making excuses for what’s happening to my own almost forty-year-old body? ‘You do not need to have anything done to your lips.’

‘Okay.’ She grins. She has lipstick on her front teeth but I decide not to tell her. She might already have been out this morning and she’ll go mad if she thinks she’s been seen like that.

‘So tell me more about Vlad.’ The name conjures images of vampires and Gothic castles where wolves howl beneath a full moon. I refrain from asking if he’s dark and swarthy with long, sharp incisors and jagged black fingernails that can tear flesh apart like paper.

‘Oh he’s a blond god, Annie. Built like a wall of rock yet sweet and polite, and he has the bluest eyes…’ Cassie places a hand over her heart and stares into the distance.

‘But you haven’t trained with him yet?’

‘No, I met him for a consultation and he’s put together a plan for me, so today he’ll take me through the first stages then up my routine over the next few weeks.’

Sounds like my idea of hell.

‘You should consider joining us, you know, Annie.’ She gives me the once-over and I squirm even though I know she’s not being mean. Cassie is always kind about my mum bod and she helps me to pick out flattering clothes when we go shopping together – which isn’t often as I don’t particularly enjoy clothes shopping for myself. I’d much rather purchase clothes for the children – but I know that she’s right. I have been thinking about it recently, about finding some time for me and improving myself. Exercise could be the place to start and it might re-energise me.

‘I couldn’t possibly spend money on a personal trainer, Cassie. It would be wrong when the children…’ I am about to use the kids as an excuse. The old financial excuse where I can’t spend money on me when my children need so much, but Cassie is holding out a hand and shaking her head so I stop talking. One thing I’ve certainly learnt about Cassie is that she’s stubborn, and where money is concerned she is extremely generous, so I rarely speak about money in front of her because I don’t want her to think I’m after a handout. Cassie was always comfortably off but following the sudden death of her merchant banker husband eight years ago, she became a very wealthy widow. Her husband absolutely adored her and he’d insured himself up to the eyeballs just in case anything ever happened to him. He provided so well for her that she’ll never have to worry about the bills. But money isn’t everything and I know how lonely she gets at times; just like me, although she’s reluctant to commit to anyone else because she fears being hurt all over again. She told me she couldn’t bear to lose another husband, and worries that no man will ever live up to her first love.

‘Vlad has a special offer on at the moment; two for one for the first two months. So no excuses, Annie! You’re coming with me.’

I search her face, suddenly terrified. I cannot go and work out with a huge Russian right now. I’m tired from a busy term, I’m too flabby to run around a park, I don’t have the right clothes and I have no babysitter.

Yes! That’s it! I have no childcare.

‘I can’t.’ I shrug and finish my coffee. ‘Much as I’d like to, Cass. The children…’

At that moment, as if woken from her slumber by the wicked fairy, Janis appears in the kitchen. She’s wearing her purple fluffy dressing gown and white rabbit slippers. Her hair is pulled into a bun on the top of her head and she looks about ten, not the seventeen years she actually is. Cassie pounces.

‘Janis! What’re your plans for today?’

My daughter smiles and stretches before switching on the kettle. ‘Not much Aunty Cass. Thought I’d relax this morning then get some studying in after lunch.’

‘Great! Then you won’t mind if I steal your mother for an hour, will you?’

Janis eyes Cassie then me and offers a smile. ‘Of course not. You ladies go have some fun.’ She makes herself a coffee then shuffles off to the living room to sit with her siblings.

I place my mug on the worktop and let defeat consume me. My Saturday morning of productivity has been stolen away and in its place I foresee pain and humiliation. A lot of pain. In fact, what is it that wrestler says? Something about a whole world of pain .

And my torturer is standing in my kitchen clad in Lycra and grinning at me like some kind of insane fashion doll come to life.

Chapter Five

A World of Pain

I wanted to wear my baggy old joggers but Cassie wouldn’t allow it. She had a slightly larger pair of Lycra running pants and a sports bra and she made me change into them. They almost fit, although I have serious side-boob coming out of the bra’s armpits. Cassie’s only concession was letting me put my t-shirt back on over the bra, so at least half of me is covered up, although I’m really not happy with the way that these trousers cling to my bum and thighs; it’s like wearing a full-body corset and I’m almost afraid to move in case I burst a seam.

However, Cassie forces me out the door and we walk briskly to the local park where Vlad is meeting us. My stomach churns in a mess of fear and apprehension. What if Vlad isn’t happy that Cassie has brought along her neighbour? What if I’m so unfit that I have some sort of attack during the workout that renders me helpless? My children need me. How would they manage if I wasn’t there to care for them and to earn a living? What if I’m as bad at this as I was at PE during my own school days?

Then another thought overpowers the others: Why am I so worried about a stupid workout session? It might actually be fun.

‘Come on, Annie!’ Cassie scolds, taking hold of my arm and leading me through the gates into the pre-spring confines of the park. I notice that the warning sign about letting dogs off their leads hangs at an angle on the fence, so the black silhouette dog looks like it’s doing a circus trick by balancing on its nose. I snigger. No letting your dog do circus tricks in the park or you face a possible fine of up to one thousand pounds. I can’t imagine Dragon managing to get up on his big squishy nose unless he overexerted himself sniffing the ground after Fairy Princess had done a wee.

‘Is that him?’ I ask, swallowing hard against the lump that lodges in my throat when I spy a giant Adonis up ahead. He’s so gorgeous that I swear the sun is actually breaking through the clouds above his head and filtering down upon him to make him glow like some kind of spirit. But this man is no apparition; he is clearly, undeniably, evidently, one hundred percent flesh and bone. So much hard male flesh and muscle. Cassie follows my pointing finger and nods.