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“I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve been avoiding.” Jenna lowered her voice, glancing at the door. “And speaking of avoiding, Becky’s just texted. Greg’s written to our committee nominating Kevin for the January meeting, with a letter from three of the girls’ parents attached. Like it’s already done.” She shook her head. “And Kevin turned up at under-eighteens training on Tuesday. Just turned up. Stood on the touchline with his arms folded, shouting instructions at girls who’d never met him.”
“He did what?”
“I know. Jax nearly had a stroke.” Jenna turned her head. “Beth!”
Beth, heading for the cheeseboard like a woman who’d earned it, stopped mid-stride and closed her eyes.
“No,” she said, without turning round.
“You don’t even know what I was going to—”
“You were going to say Kevin, and then you were going to say the girls, and then you were going to look at me like that.” Beth turned. “No, Jenna. I’ve told Jax. I’ve told you. I’ve told my sister. The answer hasn’t changed because there’s tinsel up.”
Carly heard herself before she’d decided to speak.
“Just say yes.”
Beth’s eyes slid to her. “Excuse me?”
“You stood on that touchline and watched him talk at them for fifteen minutes. You counted. You told me he never asked a single name.” Carly kept her voice low, but it had an edge she couldn’t file down. “And now he’s turning up to their training like he’s already got the job, and you’re standing here eating Brie.”
The group had gone quiet. Lauren had stopped mid-sentence. Abi had paused with a sausage roll halfway to her mouth.
Beth’s face didn’t change, but something behind it shut.
“Not here,” she said.
“Then where?”
“Not here, Carly.”
Carly stopped. She could feel the eyes on her, and Wham! starting for the fourth time, and Samantha’s unanswered message in her back pocket. She could feel Lauren really looking at her. When she turned, Lauren looked away.
“I’ve got to go anyway,” Lauren said into the silence, already pulling her car keys from her cardigan pocket. “Berkeley. Don’t want him on his own too long.” She hugged Jenna and Abi, smiled at Beth, and lifted one hand towards Carly, half wave, half salute.
“Night, mate.”
She was through the studio doors before anyone could answer.
Carly put her glass down very carefully beside the untouched mince pies.
“Excuse me,” she said to no one in particular, and walked out.
Not to the office. Not to the car. To the toilet at the end of the back corridor, with its flickering strip light and lemon cleaner. The same room where she’d once leaned in the doorway and told Lauren to stop deciding in advance that she wouldn’t be enough.
The door had barely swung shut behind her when it opened again.
“She hasn’t changed,” Beth said, barging through, and watched to see what Carly would do with it.
“The trouble is, she has.” It was out before Carly could stop it. She’d seen the proof every week for two months. Lauren had changed. She just still wasn’t interested.
Carly shut the door and looked at herself in the mirror. How had she ended up here? Over Lauren, of all people. The ghost of every miserable Sunday. Maybe that was all the last couple of months had been: not a real spark between two adults, but an old teenage crush and a boatload of guilt. And now the rejection, right on cue.
She splashed her face with cold water. Beth watched, one hand on the edge of the sink. Too closely.
“I could use a bit of space,” Carly sighed. She ripped out a paper towel and blotted under her eyes. “I’m fine. Honestly. I think I’ll just try to slip out without Jenna seeing me, because this was a mistake. I’ll get her to de-register me from the club after Christmas.”
