My Kind of Happy - Cathy Bramley Page 0,1

elderly neighbour, Ethel, while she recovered from a broken hip. Scamp did his best to keep up his end of the conversation, but I must say I was looking forward to chatting with an actual human for a change.

‘Tax returns. Urgh.’ Bernice pulled a face as she opened the door to the changing rooms and led us inside. ‘Sounds tough.’

‘It’s over for another year though, thank goodness!’ said Laura, doing a fist pump. ‘Besides, it’s Fearne who’s most in need of some pampering, she really has had a tough time.’

A knot of frustration tightened in my stomach. She was half right. But I hadn’t had a tough time; I was still having one. If my best friend didn’t understand how I felt, what chance did anyone else have, I thought glumly. I’d been there when her mum died ten years ago just before we graduated from university and it had been a full year until she stopped bursting into tears at the most inopportune moments. Grief was inconsiderate like that, it didn’t work to a deadline and my grief appeared to be going on long after other people thought I should be over it.

‘Oh? Sorry to hear that.’ Bernice tilted her head, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘Thanks.’ I looked down at my muddy trainers. No way was I going to open up to a stranger.

‘So how do these lockers work?’ Laura asked, coming to my rescue again. She sent me a look of apology.

Bernice demonstrated how to activate the wristbands we’d been given to open the lockers. Then she gave us a smile. ‘Righto, ladies, now all you have to decide is what to do next.’

‘I fancied doing a class first,’ I said, scanning the activity schedule. ‘Before getting into my dressing gown.’

Laura’s brow lifted with shock and I felt a flush of warmth to my face. I’d resisted her attempts to get me to go to Salsa (and every other sort of exercise class, and I’d bailed out of book club). I didn’t know why she bothered with me these days: I’d always been the sociable one, always up for a drink or a shopping trip, an impromptu party. Now I avoided group situations like the plague.

‘Great idea.’ Laura looked at the fluffy robe over her arm longingly. ‘As long as it’s nothing too strenuous.’

We both looked at Bernice for ideas.

‘Hula-hooping at eleven?’ she suggested, circling her hips.

Laura shuddered. ‘Tried it once at the gym and my hips wouldn’t gyrate like everyone else’s. I looked like Mr Bean dry-humping his imaginary friend.’

I giggled. Laura was petite and pixie-like, with short coppery hair and large brown eyes and looked absolutely nothing like Mr Bean.

‘Hmm, OK, let’s have a look.’ Bernice peered over my shoulder at the sheet. ‘How about Nordic Walking then? Fresh air and a tramp in the woods?’

‘Who’s she calling a tramp?’ Laura muttered wickedly.

I coughed to cover my mirth.

‘Nice thought, but I’ve already done some of that this morning,’ I said, showing Bernice the dirt up the back of my leg. My trainers must have been muddy as well because now there was a mess on the spotlessly clean floor around my feet.

‘That’s mud, allegedly,’ Laura piped up.

Bernice laughed nervously and took the schedule from my hands.

‘I’ve got it!’ she said triumphantly, a moment later. ‘Crystal Healing. It starts in a few minutes in the dance studio; you could do that if you hurry?’

Laura and I exchanged dubious looks.

‘That’s a real class?’ I asked.

‘Oh yeah.’ Bernice nodded earnestly. ‘Crystals are powerful things. They can do wonders for your physical and emotional needs. You get your chakras balanced and everything. All you have to do is sit down for an hour with a blanket over your knees. It’s fabulous; you’ll feel like new women after that.’

‘Sounds interesting.’ I nudged Laura. ‘I was saying only last week that my chakras were all over the place.’

‘Ditto.’ Laura was chewing her lip, trying to keep a straight face. ‘And I’m sure one of mine is heavier than the others.’

‘There you go then.’ Bernice pursed her lips. If she was aware she was being teased, she was too professional to comment on it. ‘It’ll be perfect for you.’

She glided back to reception and Laura stared at me in amazement.

‘You nut job. We’re not really doing it, are we?’

‘We are,’ I said shoving my stuff in the locker. ‘It might be a laugh. It’s ages since I’ve had any fun.’

Neither of us was into any of this new-age, deep and meaningful stuff normally.