‘Exactly. It’s your choice,’ Angus echoes.
‘But we’d love it if you did,’ I say, fearing she will opt out if I show her the exit door, ‘because I enjoy spending time with you.’
‘I want to,’ she says, face down.
Ahead of us, by the basketball courts, are a group of women exercising on their mats, doing some kind of yoga. ‘Reach up! Inhale… and exhale,’ instructs a young woman, dressed top to toe in black, also down on her hands and knees, leading the class. ‘And into the spine,’ she says, counting, ‘Five, four, three, two, one! Now sit back into child’s pose. That’s right, Debbie! I want to see a nice deep stretch into the back! You know what they say about stretching? It’s good for your mental health. We all need to do it, every day. Good! Five, four, three, two, one.’
In the next minute they’re being told to divide into pairs and run around the park, to the tennis courts and back. ‘We’re doing the four-minute circuit, you know the drill! Grab a partner and go! All of you! What are you waiting for?’ There’s lots of laughter as they pair off and even Dolly seems to wake up from her slumber and wants to join in too. I leave Angus and Lauren walking on as I rush back to grab her, apologising profusely. ‘Don’t worry,’ the woman says with a beaming smile. ‘We get dogs joining in all the time.’
I put Dolly on the lead and am about to walk away, but something tells me to stay. I like this woman. Maybe partly because she doesn’t conform to the stereotypical personal trainer. Firstly, she’s no stick insect. While fit and toned, she’s a generous size, which makes her far less intimidating to approach. ‘Do you run classes every day?’
‘Yep, most days.’
‘For beginners?’ I gesture towards Angus and Lauren, who are in the distance, leaning over the bridge overlooking the pond. Angus catches my eye and waves. ‘For men?’ I ask.
‘Sure. Some of my clients have run marathons, others haven’t stepped inside a gym. I get the odd guy signing up.’
‘What time are your morning classes?’
‘Seven o’clock is for the serious.’
‘And the not-so-serious?’
She laughs. ‘Nine-thirty is for the parents who’ve dropped their kids off at school, and mid-morning is for my slightlyolderclients, let’s say.’
‘About my age, you mean.’
‘Retirement age.’
‘Would you have time to do a class for the three of us?’ I ask, imagining Lauren might be too shy to join a group.
‘It’s better in a group.’ Her eyes follow my gaze again. ‘Is she your daughter?’
‘Friend. They’re both friends. We volunteer together.’
‘I could do an initial class with you all,’ she suggests, ‘find out what everyone wants, and set up individual programmes? Then maybe, when you feel ready, you can join the class later?’
I hesitate.
‘Listen, think about it. I’m always here, in this spot, every morning, unless it’s bucketing down. Then we go under the arch, by the railway. I’m Angel, by the way.’ She shakes my hand.
‘Holly. Have you got a card?’
‘Google Angel’s Classes, fun and friendly fitness for all.’
‘Not so sure about the fun part,’ says one of the women, returning from the tennis courts and now doing press-ups on her mat. ‘Don’t be fooled. Angel’s all smiles and then she gets us to do all these terrible exercises.’
Angel grins. ‘They call me “the Smiling Assassin”.’
‘Come on, Holly!’ Angus calls.
I wonder how much it costs. Is this a good idea? ‘We need a lot of help,’ I say, testing her.
Angel doesn’t appear put off. ‘Don’t we all,’ she says.
As I walk away with Dolly, I glance over my shoulder and see Angel back in her position, marching up and down with her stopwatch. ‘That’s so good, Debbie, keep going!’ she encourages. ‘Well done, Mary, you’vegotthis!’
‘What was all that about?’ Angus says, as I catch up with them, though I think he’s cottoned on to my idea and by the look on his face, I can tell he’s willing to give anything a go. I decide to tell them that I’d like Angel to train the three of us. Lauren remains quiet and I don’t force it. Nor does Angus. There’s only so much we can do. I simply tell her that the offer is there. I’m going to sign up. The rest is up to Lauren.
