At this time in the morning, however, it’s empty, devoid of any pretty dark-haired dance teachers.
I ignore the pang of disappointment drumming through my stomach.
Slipping through the unmarked door at the end of the corridor, I shove my gym bag into the locker Michael gestures for me to use – number eleven. He shows me how to lock up – a quick tap of my ID wristband until the device flashes green – and then passes the wristband through a scanner.
“All set and ready to go, Hudson.” He hands the waterproof ID tag to me, watching as I thread it onto my wrist for safe keeping. “There is a small fee to pay if you lose your ID tag, so we advise everyone to keep it on their person while at work. Are you ready for your first day?”
“Yep,” I answer with a confident nod of my head. A thrill of excitement dances through me knowing I’m about to get back into doing something I love and have a passion for.
“That’s the right attitude to have.” Michael pats my shoulder. “You’re going to love it here. So, I’ll introduce you to a few people this morning. I’m sure they’ll become familiar faces after you’ve been with us a week or so.”
We run into Rosie first; a petite woman sporting a pixie cut who has a few personal trainer clients and who also runs the boxing class in room one. She looks me up and down, appraising me, even though I tower above her and then grins.
“I’m Rosie,” she says, sticking out her hand.
I slide my hand into hers. “Hudson.”
“You’ll fit in nicely.” I’m on the receiving end of another toothy smile and then she flounces off, pulling a mobile phone from the back pocket of her leggings and moving her thumbs rapidly over the screen.
A few of the other personal trainers I meet – Chris, Leo and Rex – are all as friendly as Rosie, slapping my back in greeting and welcoming me into their fold.
Michael slips away, leaving us boys to get acquainted, while I step up to the weight rack beside Rex.
“You been training for long?” he asks, stacking up metal weights on either side of the barbell.
“About six years, yeah, ever since I left college.”
Rex bobs his head. “Worked in a few gyms?”
I huff out a laugh. “You could say that.”
“I did the same, mate, before I found this place. Been here about three years now and I can’t complain. You don’t mind spotting for me, do ya?”
I spot Rex with ease through his fifteen reps and then we switch, both of us lifting the weights until we’re covered in a thin film of sweat.
When the alarm on my wristwatch chimes to signal I’ve got fifteen minutes until my first client arrives, I leave Rex to finish up and head into the showers to make use of the staff only cubicle. Doing a quick body scrub, I shrug on a clean shirt and a set of jogging shorts – it might be freezing cold outside, but inside I’m usually always running warm – spray some aftershave and deodorant and make my way back into the main area of the gym.
I scout around until I spy a man who stands drifting around the edges of a stationary bike machine, looking like he’s not quite sure where to start.
“Hey.” Allowing my feet to carry me towards the pedal bikes, I stick my hand out for him to shake. “I’m Hudson. Are you Mitch?”
The man – Mitch – bobs his head jerkily and pumps his hand into mine.
I grin. This is my element. “Nice to meet you, mate. I’m your new personal trainer, if you’d like to follow me, we can have a chat, I’ll show you around the space so you can familiarise yourself, and then we can get started, does that sound alright?”
“How many clients are you hoping to take on a day?” Chris, another personal trainer, asks me while we chow down our lunch together.
Catching a stray pepper before it can fall from my fork, I answer him and then glance upwards when I catch a glimpse of an older woman who stands waiting for the kettle to boil.
“That’s Mrs Platt,” Chris all but whispers. “She’s a battle-axe.”
The woman in question turns as if she knows we’re talking about her, making me feel like a schoolboy whose been caught by the teacher doing something he shouldn’t. The deeply etched line between her grey eyebrows tells me the way she’s scowling right now must be a rather permanent expression.
She sniffs. “You’re new.”
“Yeah, I just started today. I’m Hudson. It’s—”
“Hm.” Mrs Platt hums in the back of her throat and not in a good way either, before taking her flask of tea and leaving the staff room without another word.
