Honor said, ‘No, they’re not! They’re fun!’ and felt double bad because his supposed holiday job at the funfair had fallen through and he’d probably end up covering at the Teapot all summer. But a girl had to have the odd free day in which to run by the ocean with the wind flying her ponytail like a kite, mooch contentedly around Pretty Old and haggle a 1960s’ Wedgewood cruet from Peggy the hobbit, then hang out over lunch at the FigLeaf pub before heading home for a hot shower and to fire up her laptop.
Her email inbox had another message from Stef waiting for her, making use of Billie’s internet connection again.OK. You’re making me think long and hard about what I’ve done and I apologise (again) for how it turned out for you. I don’t accept that it’s all over between us, though.
She sighed. There didn’t seem much point in repeating how over it all was. Stef probably thought he could talk her round now that she’d had time to calm down.
To cheer herself, she caught up with the family news — her dad and Karen, along with Stef’s dad, Will, had joined a club,I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a gym; Jess had new shoes,it was the turquoise heels that did it; and Zach was finding his internship in Texashotter than hell.
Facebook caught her up on what was going on with her friends and the former students of Hamilton High, bringing vividly to her mind the sunny streets of Hamilton Drives and the places they’d hung out: the lake; the shopping mall. The picture-book white wooden church; the steeple so white against the blue of the sky and the green of the willows.
Then, on impulse, she searched Facebook for Martyn Mayfair and, as well as his own understated one, found a fan page with a very proprietary tone. As well as listing a ton of ads that Martyn had been in, complete with images, it led to a slideshow on YouTube. Was this what Robina had done, without even asking Martyn if that’s what he’d like? Wow.
A little Googling around and she discovered that Martyn’s own web presence was minimal and sophisticated in purple and black and linked directly to a similarly understated page at Ace Smith Model Management, giving few details other than height, weight, colour of eyes and successful campaigns, headed by le Dur. A selection of moody and sizzling images pretty muchdid the talking. Backtracking to the Google search page she found a whole host of other model agencies to click through. The most successful agencies adopted the same ‘less is more’ approach as Ace Smith. Not for them tempting bios vauntingpositive approachandunique lookor lists of work that would be considered.
Shutting down her machine and wriggling into her combat pants, which felt appropriate for a self-defence class, she felt downright weird that Martyn Mayfair was to be her driver for the evening.
* * *
Once the damned class was upon her, she found herself no more enthusiastic about it than Ru. But if she didn’t go, Ru wouldn’t have anyone to encourage him — or pay for him, in all probability. They found their way into the hall over a pub wherePersonal Safety Trainingwas printed on the sheet of white paper stuck to the door. A dusty stage at one end rose above floorboards and a spongy blue floor mat. The smell of beer tainted the air.
Including Honor and Ru, the class numbered twelve. Seven of the others were women of all ages up to mid-sixties, and each paused to look at Martyn when he walked in. Lifting a lazy hand to Hughie, he hopped up to sit on the edge of the stage and watch.
Honor hadn’t bargained on his presence but she could scarcely object, as he’d given them a ride. She and Ru joined the half-circle around Hughie, a tattooed hulk with a buzz-cut who, despite the grey in his hair, balanced on the balls of his feet and looked ready for anything. He had an oddly sweet smile and liked making his class laugh with jokes about his middle-age, ‘Blimey, this lad was no more than a twinkle in his father’s eye when I left the army and began these classes!’ Which put at easethe ladies who had a decade or so on him but made Ru flush. Ru looked how Honor felt — alien and apprehensive. If it hadn’t been for half of the class looking even less at ease in elastic-waist trousers and cardigans, Honor might have hissed, ‘Let’s go!’ to Ru and made a break for it.
Instead, she focused on Hughie’s growly voice as he bounded into his course introduction. ‘I’m not going to ask you all individually why you’re here,’ he began. ‘Because I know.
‘Something, at some time, has made you feel in need of a swift and effective answer to violence. You, or someone close to you, has been mugged, beaten up, picked on or sexually assaulted. You’re here to learn to defend yourself — not so that you can pick up tips on how to be an aggressor.’
He paused and scanned his class sternly, keen blue eyes daring anyone to admit aggressive tendencies. ‘I’m going to show you that even the smallest person can be effective in self-defence by mixing up the pairings.’ Rapidly, he divided the class up: young with middle-aged, woman with man, large with small. Ru looked terrified to be partnered by a plump woman with tight grey curls in rows, as if the perming rods were still in there.
‘And you — Honor, isn’t it? — you’re the lightest of us, so you partner me and we’ll show these guys how a little woman can overcome a big bloke.’
Honor grew hot with alarm. ‘Wow. I’m a complete beginner. Maybe someone else—’
‘—would be a complete beginner, too.’ Hughie twinkled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, this class is all about empowerment, about vanquishing that feeling of being out of your depth. That’s not a nice feeling and we’re going to show it the door. Right? We’re going to begin with vital point striking, because the brilliant thing about vital points—’ he began to tick points off on his fingers, projecting his voice to the class at large, — ‘is that we’ve all got them. Vital points cannot be conditioned. Vitalpoints are as vulnerable on a fifteen-stone hoodlum as they are on a seven-stone weakling. OK?’
Along with the class, Honor nodded. ‘Stones’ were a bit of a mystery to her, but the principle was easy to comprehend, fifteen being more than twice as many as seven.
‘Now make me a fist.’ Hughie turned back to Honor and watched as she curled in her fingers and thumb on her right hand. ‘Good!’ He beckoned the class closer. ‘See, the thumb is on the outside of the fingers, parallel to the knuckles and across the front. Youdon’tcurl your fingers over your thumb. Or stick it out at the side.’ He demonstrated each no-no. ‘Because you might break your thumb the first time you use a fist like that. Right? Honor, clench it harder. Great. The harder you can make it, the more effective it will be and the less chance there is of you getting hurt.’
He pulled up a banner from a sort of tube on feet that stood on the floor, to show a black silhouette with pink dots. ‘Here are the vital points,’ he pointed to each dot. ‘Eyes. Nose. Ears. Throat. Groin — especially if your attacker’s a man. Knees. Instep.
‘This isn’t a martial arts class and I’m not going to show you classic technique — I’m going to show you how to control a violent situation and get away, right? So you’ll use your hand in the easy ways.’ He stuck out his own hairy fist to demonstrate each option. ‘The back of your fist, the side of your fist, the flat of your palm and the points of your fingers. And you’ll put all the weight of your body behind each blow, right? Right?’
‘Right,’ the class responded, shyly.
‘OK, find you and your partner a bit of space and we’ll begin with the eyes.’
Honor glanced across at Ru, saw his face finally igniting with something that might be enthusiasm, and felt her heart lift. This was going to work. This had been a great idea. She turnedto throw Martyn a grateful look. But then Hughie said, ‘Right, Honor. Now I’m going to choke you.’
Chapter Fifteen
Honor stepped back.
Hughie gave a guffaw. ‘It’s all right. I’m going to pretend to choke you and you’re going to pretend to jab me in the throat. See?’ Gently, he fit his warm and scratchy hands around Honor’s neck. ‘Now, your instinct is to put your hands up to mine to try and free yourself. But by far the simplest thing is to strike your attacker.’
Freeing Honor for the moment, he touched the base of his own neck, at the front, turning to show all the class. ‘All of you feel, here, you’ve got a nice little cuppy shape? With a bobbly bit inside, like a button? Just press it lightly.’ Several people coughed and Hughie grinned. ‘Not comfy, is it? So, Honor.’ He returned his hands to her throat. ‘You take your two fingers and jab me — a touch will do! — in the trachea, on that button.’
Quickly, Honor lifted her hand and touched Hughie fleetingly where he’d indicated. Though she controlled her touch, he still coughed. And let go of her neck.
