15

Fen

‘I’m going hiking,’ Fen whispered to Bella, who was sleeping with her arms thrown back, the smooth hollows of her underarms exposed.

There was something softer, vulnerable, about Bella when she slept, like a child who, no matter how obnoxiously they’d behaved throughout the day, was returned to innocence by sleep.

Yesterday’s argument still throbbed hotly, but Fen knew the hen weekend wasn’t the time to examine it. That would have to wait until they were home. ‘You’re welcome to come,’ she added.

Bella curled onto her side. ‘No sunlight till ten a.m.’

Fen grabbed her backpack and slipped from the bedroom, quietly relieved. Bella would only have complained about the heat, the weight of her pack, the length of the hike, and they’d have ended up returning early.

In the lounge, the shutters had been thrown wide, the scent of flowering jasmine breathing into the villa with the morning light. Beyond the pool, she could see Lexi on her yoga mat, walking out her heels in downward dog. Ana had her head in a book, a cafetière beside her on the low stone wall.

As she turned to cross the room, her gaze caught on the framed photo of herself that Bella had picked up yesterday. Her stomach lurched.

No way was she having that. She made herself pick up the picture and study her own image. She was only nineteen when it was taken, still so fresh and inexperienced. She wanted to warn that girl with the full, sunny smile, tell her: Be careful. You don’t know what’s coming.

She felt a tightness spreading across her ribs, a tremble in her fingertips. She gritted her teeth, fighting it down. She didn’t need to feel afraid. It was over. In the past. Done. She’d worked through it. She was stronger now.

Yet when she looked at herself, all she could hear was his words: You disgust me.

Without pausing to think, she was bending towards the cupboard, shoving the framed picture to the very back. She slammed it shut, then wiped her hands down the sides of her shorts. Fuck him.

She drew a breath.

‘Sure you don’t mind me tagging along?’

Fen spun around. Robyn was crouching near the door, lacing up her hiking boots. She’d forgotten she’d mentioned the hike to Robyn. In truth, she’d have rather stolen out solo, disappeared into the mountains alone, but Robyn was looking so eager as she smiled, rucksack at her side, that Fen could only say, ‘I’m sure.’

The morning light was pure, scented with pine. The sun was still behind the mountain as they followed the winding dirt trail, giving them at least another hour of shade before it crested.

The path ascended through shrubs and cypress trees, clouds of dust rising from the tramp of their footsteps. Robyn kept pace at Fen’s shoulder, ponytail bobbing, pale knees rising.

In the distance, the faint echo of a bell rang across the mountain. ‘Is there a church nearby?’ Robyn asked, a little out of breath.

‘There’s a monastery on the northern side of the mountain. I’ve only seen it from a distance – women are forbidden.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Temptation, I suppose. Keep the monks’ thoughts pure,’ she said with a raised brow. Fen didn’t have much tolerance for the rules of the church; her deeply religious upbringing had left a legacy of guilt and shame surrounding her sexuality, which had taken years to unpack.

As the path narrowed, Fen took the lead. Flowering thyme grew from the sun-cracked earth. A lizard scuttled from beneath a rock, crossing their path and disappearing into a thorny shrub.

‘Thanks for letting me tag along,’ Robyn said. ‘It’s so nice to walk without stopping every ten paces to pick up a dropped toy, or examine an ant, or to coax Jack with a trail of rice cakes.’

Fen laughed. ‘Do you get the chance to hike at all?’

Robyn sighed. ‘No. I miss it. I was in the mountaineering club at university. It was every bit as geeky as it sounds – and I loved it. I carried it on into my twenties, disappearing for weekends in the Brecon Beacons. It’s so wild up there and the colours in spring are breathtaking. But then I met my husband – ex-husband – and I sort of fell out of the habit.’

‘Maybe it’s time to make some new habits.’

‘It is,’ Robyn said from behind her, and Fen could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Lexi said you’re a personal trainer. Think I may have driven past your studio. It’s in Westbourne?’

‘Yes, just off the one-way system.’

‘Do you have a huge bamboo plant in the window?’

‘Two of them.’

‘I pass it on my way to work. I live in Branksome.’

‘Oh? So you’re only down the road from Bella?’

There was a pause. ‘Yes.’

Bella rarely mentioned Robyn and when she did, she gave the impression that Robyn was dull company, one of those friends that she’d have long ago let drift had it not been for Lexi.

‘Do you train Bella? Is that how you met?’

‘We met doing our food shop. Glamorous, right?’

‘I met my ex-husband in a chiropodist’s waiting room. I’m no judge.’

Fen grinned. ‘Makes the canned food aisle feel glamorous. Actually, the circumstances were sad really because we came across a lovely elderly woman, Penny, who was having a stroke. Bella was the first to get to her. She was so calm, so reassuring. Her voice never faltered. She kept talking brightly, calmly. Should’ve guessed she used to be a nurse.’

‘Yes, she was so good at her job,’ Robyn said.

Fen glanced at Robyn. Her expression was at ease. She really doesn’t know.

‘When the ambulance arrived,’ Fen went on, ‘Bella promised Penny that she’d get in touch with her daughter. I knew the street she lived on. It was around the corner from me, so I drove Bella there and waited in the car while she broke the news to Penny’s daughter. After that, Bella and I, well, we were just sitting in my car, catching our breath, I guess. I thought she was going to say something about what had happened, and then this nineties song came on the radio. I think it was TLC. I was about to flick stations when she said, “I love this song.” She started to sing, right there in my car, hopelessly out of tune, but with full conviction.’

Robyn grinned. ‘Was it “Waterfalls”?’

‘Yes!’ Fen tipped back her head and laughed.

‘Thank God for the ten-kilo luggage limit,’ Robyn said. ‘She’d have brought her karaoke machine otherwise.’

‘It was one of Lexi’s three vetoes: No veils, cocks or karaoke.’

Robyn laughed and the sound was loud and deep – a big laugh. Fen liked it.

‘How did you get into personal training?’ Robyn asked as they continued hiking, the path ascending steeply.

Fen could have given Robyn the party line about being passionate about helping others achieve their fitness goals, but instead, perhaps because she was out here, the rhythm of their walk freeing something, she found herself confiding, ‘I went through a pretty rough patch a few years ago.’ She glanced briefly across the cliffs, her gaze falling fleetingly on the villa, a dark memory swimming to the surface. ‘I lost my confidence. My motivation. I was unfit, eating badly. I still didn’t know many people in Bournemouth, so I used to take myself off for these long walks on the seafront … just because it was easier than sitting still.’

Fen kept up her pace as she said, ‘Gradually, I became fitter, and soon I was putting trainers on, deciding to run a little of the way. I don’t know whether it was as simple as releasing endorphins or the exercise getting me out in nature, but I started to feel more like myself again. I lost weight, I felt stronger. Happier.’

The path widened and Robyn joined Fen at her shoulder.

‘It got me interested in the body-mind connection, so I began reading up on it, learning about nutrition and the psychology behind creating and maintaining positive habits. I saved up to do my PT training and, after a couple of years working for someone else, I decided to take the leap and rent a studio of my own. You’ve seen it – it’s tiny – but I love it there. I can walk to the beach on my lunch breaks, and my clients are wonderful.’

‘What type of people do you train?’ Robyn asked, slightly out of breath.

Fen adjusted her pace. ‘They’re not all gym bunnies wanting to get a six-pack for their Instagram squares. They’re mothers, grandfathers, teenagers … People who want to get the most out of their bodies.’

Robyn was smiling. ‘I love that.’

‘Sometimes it feels like modern life sets us up for failure. Most of our movement is outsourced – cars, tubes, escalators, lifts. It can be hard to eat healthily too as every street you pass has a coffee shop or fast-food places. Lots of us live in flats and don’t have a garden to move around in, so people start outsourcing their exercise, too, and it becomes something that happens once or twice a week at a gym or a fitness class. I guess I’m interested in helping people look at their habits, their whole lifestyle, and explore how they can build more movement into their everyday routine.’ Fen suddenly became conscious of how much she’d talked. ‘Sorry, sermon on the mount.’

‘It’s fascinating. I’m thinking it’s exactly the sort of thing I need.’

Fen looked at Robyn. ‘Come by the studio some time.’

Robyn smiled, the sun finally cresting the mountain, lighting her face. ‘I’d like that.’

 

 

 

Our friends are the people who understand us. They know Marmite on toast is our comfort food, they share our obsession with stationery, they’ve seen where we keep the emergency supply of chocolate. Our friends know the story of our first kiss, or the song that will pull us onto the dance floor, or why we can’t listen to David Bowie without crying.

The biochemistry of our bodies changes when we spend time with good friends. A beautiful cocktail of our happy hormones – oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin – elevates our mood. Studies have shown that friendships can strengthen the positive neural pathways in our brains and improve our emotional intelligence.

You might even say that friends are medicine.

But then any biochemist will tell you that medicine to one person can be poison to another.