Brad places our sheets on his chair. ‘I know this hasn’t been the easiest task for some of you, but you all did very well. By the time you leave, you’ll be confident enough to charm everyone you come into contact with. But for now, take half an hour and grab a coffee.’
We all disperse, grateful that this part of the day is over. As I head towards the bathrooms, Nish sidles up beside me.
‘Thanks for not being too harsh on me,’ he says awkwardly. ‘You’re very easy to talk to, like I said in my notes.’
I laugh. ‘I thought that was you. You’re welcome, but no need to thank me! You just have to loosen up a little. You’ll be great!’
He smiles. ‘No one has ever said they like my eyes before.’
‘Glad to be the first!’ I push open the toilet door and walk in. He’s still beside me, beaming.
‘Nish, this is the ladies’ room.’
‘Oh, right. Sorry. See you when you come out.’
I close the door behind me and find a cubicle. See me when I come out? What the hell? Please no, I do not have time for a puppy.
I take my time in the bathroom, even chatting with a woman about her brand of fake tan in the hope that Nish will get bored and wander off. Unfortunately, when I get back into the hallway, he’s still there.
‘I’m just going to grab a coffee and make some phone calls, Nish. I’ll see you later.’
‘You have really nice eyes too.’
Will walks over to us, cornering Nish, while I take my chance to get in line for some coffee. Eventually Will joins me.
‘You’re welcome,’ he says, grabbing a plastic cup and holder. ‘He’s rubbing up against Meg now.’
‘Nish is harmless!’ I informed him. ‘He just thinks he’s found a friend, that doesn’t mean anything salacious. I’m old enough to be his mum.’
‘Nah, you’ve maybe got nine or ten years on him. It’s a perfectly reasonable assumption – younger guy, older MILF.’
‘Oh, get lost. You’re making me uncomfortable now.’
‘Probably not as uncomfortable as Nish is feeling in those tight trousers.’
‘You’re the worst.’
I fill up my coffee and take it outside, hoping that neither Nish nor Will follow me out. Instead, I am greeted by torrential rain and thunder, forcing me to either take shelter with the smokers or go back inside. I choose the latter, finding an empty room for a moment of ‘me’ time.
I sit at a round wooden table in the middle of the room, one which looks like it’s being used to store materials for the bootcamp. Boxes are piled high beside empty cups and some scribbled-on notepads partially covered by jackets and sweatshirts. It’s nice to find an area that doesn’t reek of sandalwood or lilies. I sip my coffee and scroll through my phone, noticing that everyone has already texted me to save me from annoying them later. Part of me is glad that everything appears to be running smoothly and another part is annoyed that everything isn’t falling to pieces without me. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but no one seems to miss me.
I give myself ten minutes of peace and quiet, throw my cup into the already full wastepaper bin and wander back into the main hall, where Nish is nowhere to be seen and Will is chatting to Paul. Iknewthat the tethering story would make him investigate Paul further. I’ll be curious to see Will’s article when it’s published; maybe he’ll be able to make more sense of this whole affair than me because right now, it’s just a bizarre mess.
The seats have all been arranged back into their original rows, so I take the left outside seat on the back row and pull out my itinerary.
Telling Tales
Storytime? I bet this is a load of made-up testimonials featuring folk who were once cat-owning hermits but now have six husbands and a house made entirely from vibrational brickwork. Or maybe we have to snitch on each other… oooh, I quite like that idea.
‘Are we ready to begin?’ Anna asks, appearing at the front of the room like a genie. Will sits beside me, surreptitiously messing with his phone which makes me think he’s just recorded his conversation with Paul. Has he been recording me?
‘Telling tales is something we’re all very good at,’ Anna says. ‘The stories we tell ourselves, and other people, to justify why we are where we are.’
Will finally places his phone in his pocket and slouches. I grumpily nudge his leg away from mine.
‘We all have tales of heartbreak, of how we’ve been the victim of some terrible scoundrel who used us up and threw us away. Tales of parents who didn’t do enough, or parents who did too much or bullies who taunted us, the list goes on.’
My mind is suddenly swarming with the faces of everyone she’s mentioned. My mother who failed at the most important role she had, Charlie’s dad who crushed my heart under his size tens, that ginger kid in school who called me ‘no tits Nora’ because I developed later than everyone else and even the woman at the deli counter in the supermarket who looks at me like I murdered her entire family every time I go in. They have all made me who I am.
