‘I’ve kept up with it all, Sir. Probably done more over at my Aunty Judith’s than if I was here.’ He smiled. ‘Had to do something to combat the boredom.’
‘Well, these holiday revision sessions I’ve arranged are there for you as much as the others.’
‘Ms Allen here is constantly quoting Shakespeare at me, and I reckon I knowWar of the Worldsbetter than she does.’
‘Shh,’ Robyn frowned. ‘I told you that in confidence.’
‘And the other Ms Allen…’
‘The other one?’ Mason frowned.
‘Jess,’ Robyn said. ‘She will now answer only to Ms Jessica Allen – her former name – as opposed to Mrs Jess Butterworth.’
‘…is an absolute whizz at maths,’ Joel finished. ‘I tell you, Sir, I’ve learned more from her in one day than the last two years at school.’
‘Does she want a job?’ Mason smiled.
‘She’s got one.’ Robyn laughed. ‘She’ll be up at The White House in the morning getting things ready. Kamran Sattar has got the experts in: some promotional company that does just that, apparently. You know, advises on staffing, trains front of house, answers every question going.’
‘Really?’ Mason was most interested. ‘Mind you, the Sattars have the funding behind them to get the place off to a flying start.’
‘And, Mr Donoghue,’ Robyn went on, trying to get Mason back on to school matters, ‘I emailed you that Joel here is going to be the new Danny Zuko. The production isback on.’
‘You sure about this, Joel? Has Ms Allen here bullied you into it?’
‘Well, it was all part of the deal.’ Joel sighed heavily.
‘Joel needs to concentrate on his revision, Ms Allen.’ Mason folded his arms in an attempt at asserting any authority he might still have over Robyn.
‘Of course he does. And he will. He’s off up to the library now and I’ll pick him up later.’
‘I’ll drop him off at your sister’s place.’ Mason patted Joel’s arm. ‘I’m going up to Hudson House when I leave here to see my grandmother. They’re all missing Jess up there, you know.’
‘Jessicanow. New name, new job…’
‘New lodger.’ Joel smiled, picking up his gear and heading for the library.
23
JESS
While Robyn was putting Joel through his paces, I was in the process of putting myself through my own. I hated gyms; hated the whole idea of stripping down to some sort of Lycra in order to get sweaty and disappointed in myself when I was unable to complete the full three sets of eight that appeared to be de rigueur on each scary-looking machine that stretched out in never-ending rows in front of me.
Fitness for Life (Fatness for Life, I’d scowled to myself as I handed in one of my gym passes) was a new all-singing, all-dancing, up-to-date gym in a much-refurbished and extended former gym in the town. The Sattars had been behind it, apparently, this fabulous new place rising like a phoenix from the ashes where the old place had once stood before Covid had finished it off.
Goodness, I thought as the young, six-packed gym lackey insisted on taking me round and showing me ‘everything we’ve got’. Noteverything, I silently pleaded as I averted my eyes from the tiny white satin shorts of a hugely muscled man pulling some sort of weight on a trolly across an area of carpeted gym floor.
‘Blimey,’ I said to Franco (the name on his badge), ‘I could do with him to take my bins out every week.’
Franco didn’t smile. ‘Incorporating a sled push into your gym circuit is a great way to build lower body strength and power, engaging multiple muscle groups simultaneously and improving cardiovascular endurance,’ he intoned as I watched in fascination.
‘Fancy,’ I said. ‘Well, there you go.’
Not wanting to wait for the sweating, heaving man’s bits and pieces to appear fully from his tiny shorts as seemed inevitable when he grunted his way past me, I found I was, however, unable to avert my eyes from the toned, large but sculpted bums that all the gorgeous gym bunny girls appeared to be sporting through their tight Lycra shorts. High ponytails swinging rhythmically in time with the swinging of heavy weights between their legs (a ha! These must be the kettlebells the Sattar sisters-in-law had been discussing at Kamran’s), they broke off only to refer methodically to their phones. I had a surreptitious feel at my own backside. Maybe mine wasn’t that big after all?
‘Is this the fashion now then?’ I asked.
‘Sorry?’
