‘Hang on, I’m moving somewhere quieter.’
Ten seconds later, I hear her close the door. ‘Nora, this is what happens when you don’t have sex for a century and are then within smelling distance of the opposite sex. All those pheromones, they mess with you. It’s science.’
‘It’s ridiculous, is what it is. I’m forty! I should be able to—’
‘Bang him instead of calling me at work?’
‘I was going to say deal with it in a responsible and grown-up fashion.’
She laughs. ‘How dull. No chance of sleeping with him? I mean, get a proper look at it at least!’
‘Victoria, I’m not going to get him to slap it down like a bad poker hand. Besides, he’s married. Well, separated, but still in love with his wife and blah blah blah. He looks huge though.’
‘How huge?’
‘Remember when we went on holiday to Greece, and you hooked up with that German guy and he could only get the tip in?’
‘Really? That big?’
‘At least.’
She laughs. ‘That wasn’t fun. You’ve given birth though, you have room.’
I snort loudly. ‘For God’s sake, Victoria, it doesn’t stay dilated. It’s made of muscle, not cheap knicker elastic.’
‘Look, I need to run, Tracey’s on her own out there. You’ll be fine. Just think unsexy thoughts. You’ll be home and frigid again before you know it. Love you!’
‘Frigid?’
She hangs up and I stare at my phone like it’s going to reply on her behalf. Eventually I place it on the table and get back to my soup. I only have fifteen minutes left and I need to change for yoga with Brad…Flexible Brad… Bendy Brad.
Oh, piss off, me.
CHAPTER22
Yoga takes place in the meditation room, but we’re joined by Group Three, which means space is tighter than normal. Brad, wearing dark wide-legged yoga pants and a white vest, puts the twenty of us into four lines of five. I’ve thrown on some leggings and a clean T-shirt for yoga but most of the women in the room have come as the Kardashians: tight, bottom-hugging, wet-look leggings, cropped tops and one-piece catsuits. I’ve never felt like such a plain Jane in my entire life. The only other person unhappier to be here than me is Tim who is wearing a shell suit from 1988 and undoubtedly wishing he was back then. Will sits behind me in grey joggers, possibly the worst thing a man with a noticeable package can wear, but I keep my eyes front and centre, thankful that I don’t have to stare at him for the next forty-five mins.
‘I know many of you are experienced with yoga,’ Brad says, folding his little origami legs. ‘But today we’re going to keep things simple. Yoga is another tool we can use to tune out the physical world and tune into it the spiritual one, through deep breathing and connecting with our bodies. So, everyone, legs crossed and spine nice and straight – this will help the blood circulate more easily. OK, palms facing up and take a deep breath in… and out… now when we breathe in, we want the stomach to expand and on breathing out the stomach should contract.’
Wait? What? Hang on a sec.For the first time in my life, the simple art of breathing has become complicated.
‘And breathe in again, pushing the stomach out first—’
I try again and I end up pushing my pelvic floor into my yoga mat. That’s not right.What the hell, Brad? I know how to breathe. I’m an expert. You can’t just change breathing.
Brad stands and starts walking up and down the lines, observing everyone’s attempts to reverse breathe. I can’t see if anyone else is getting it wrong as they all have their backs to me. I peek behind me at Will and see him, eyes closed, legs crossed, nailing this.
Traitor. I turn back around to see Brad making his way towards me. I feel like I’ve been caught trying to cheat on a test.
‘Problems?’ He bends down behind me and takes my right hand, placing it over my belly with his on top, then leans in. I recognise the smell of the complimentary shower gel that hangs in the bathroom. I haven’t been this close to a man since the last great disappointing shag of summer three years ago.
‘Um, well, when I breathe in, my stomach follows.’
‘Yes, some people breathe like that.’
All people, Brad. All people.
‘This might help,’ he says quietly. ‘Focus on guiding your breath towards your hand.’
