‘Ooh, I can do this one all right.’ Annie laughed, widening her legs as far as she dared. ‘Although it’s been a while.’
Jilly laughed. ‘I hear you, sister, and ignore the pain; Pilates is just so good for your back and your core. You’re on the final exercise now – pelvic curls. Heels up on the foot bar. You will thank me next time you sneeze and don’t wet yourself.’
‘Don’t make me laugh,’ Rita added. ‘Or I might actually wet myself now.’
They were silent for a few minutes, aside from a few cracks, exhales and the occasional muttered swear.
Then, unexpectedly, Annie said, ‘Do you think we let men get away with too much?’
Jilly paused mid-pelvic curl.
‘I mean’ – Annie’s voice wobbled – ‘I’m on the dating apps, you know. The last one, Sean, his name was. Couldn’t even plan a date. Just kept saying he wasbusy, but not too busy to ask if I’d send him a nude photo. We hadn’t even exchanged last names. And what did I do, took over an hour getting in a position where the tits looked big, the stomach looked passable, and turning my ankle on the high heels that I’ve only ever worn once to a day racing at Royal Ascot.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Rita sighed. ‘I’m so out of the dating game, I can’t even imagine going into it like that.’
‘It’s worse than awful.’ Annie lay back flat on the machine, talking to the ceiling. ‘I told him to piss off, eventually. But I still felt… used, I guess? Dating is so difficult, right now with men offering such low effort with high expectation.’
Jilly slowly rolled up from her machine, suddenly serious.
‘Sweetheart, I’ve been there. It’s a minefield. And let me tell you something, it’s not just the men taking the piss. It’s us letting them, too. Because we think if we ask for more, they’ll leg it.’
Annie blinked. ‘So, what do you do?’
Jilly piped up. ‘I’ve gone the opposite way. I laugh in their faces if they ask me that and delete. It’s called self-respect, darling. You’re allowed to want the picnic, not just the crumbs, you know.’
Annie sat up and gave a sheepish shrug. ‘I always go for the young ones, too. Late twenties, floppy hair, confused about their career but confident in bed. Which is great at the time, but… not for the future, I realise that.’
Rita gave a little laugh. ‘For what it’s worth, from someone who is so far removed from it all, you don’t need a boy who’s still working out who he is, Annie. You need a gentleman. Someone who’s been there, done that, and still opens doors for you. Someone who knows the value of peace and kindness.’
Annie let out a breath, her lip wobbling again. ‘God. That sounds… normal… and nice.’
Jilly stood up. ‘It’s called being treated properly. And don’t let anyone convince you that asking for that makes you high maintenance. Right, stand up and stretch, and then we’re done.’
‘Yes! Even just suggest a coffee without asking what bra size I am.’ Annie stood up and tutted. ‘I’ve been so foolish.’ Annie’s eyes filled with tears. Rita eased herself off the machine, copied Jilly’s stretch and then squeezed her shoulder.
‘You don’t owe anyone a performance in exchange for their respect. That’s one thing my Archie was, respectful.’ Rita was thoughtful.
Annie was kind. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Rita.’
Rita offered a small smile, brave but bruised. ‘We get up, and we go again.’
She glanced over at Jilly, who met her eyes with quiet understanding.
Annie was on a roll now. ‘I guess I just thought… maybe if I were less picky, or less intense, I know I can be bold and mouthy but underneath that’s not completely me.’
‘No,’ Rita cut in. ‘Don’t shrink yourself for someone who can’t even send a proper message, never mind handle your heart.’
Jilly starting tidying papers on the reception desk and sighed. ‘Yes. Ask more. Want more. Be more annoying if that’s what it takes. Because the ones who get scared off by that? They were never going to show up when it mattered, anyway. My old ma used to say, “Wait until they are banging your door down and then you’ll know. The rest of ’em, they just ain’t that into you.”’
Annie reached for her purse. ‘You should charge more than you do for all this added therapy.’
Jilly cackled. ‘Great idea! It’s thirty quid if you well up, thirty-five for a jaw-dropping revelation and forty for a full-on sob.’
THIRTY-FIVE
The next morning Rita was washing up her breakfast things furiously in the kitchen sink, her bashing and crashing disturbing Henry enough for him to retreat to the Den. On the kitchen table behind her lay a cream envelope, its contents strewn where she had thrown them down in frustration.
Zenya appeared in the doorway, her cheeks pink from a morning trek to Seahaven Cove with Teo and the group.
