Frankie walked to Tesco’s. She wouldn’t run; she didn’t want to look all dishevelled and out of breath before she even got there. She wanted to look cool, composed and wedgie-less. She’d got new gear, including a pair of leggings that actually fitted her and a T-shirt in a normal colour that didn’t say anything.
She’d decided to go to the Couch to 5k meet-up. Just to see what it was like. Train with like-minded people. Beat her personal best. See that handsome guy again… Why not? It was another Sunday without the kids and, to be honest, she was bored stiff and desperate to avoid another drop-in visit from her parents.
She’d run, on and off, since that first time two weeks ago. She was getting better at it. She could now go twenty minutes without a stitch and was beginning to enjoy that feeling of satisfaction when she got home and knew she’d done what she set out to. She liked it. She was a runner again.
He hadn’t been quite right about the car park. It was empty of people – there were only cars – but there was a group of sporty-looking people in Lycra and fleece limbering up in the parkland behind it. As she walked over, the man she’d met by the river was lolling against a tree, wearing black shorts and a turquoise T-shirt, and easing on sweatbands. She made a beeline for him. The other people looked scary: a couple doing mirror-image star jumps, a guy in a red tracksuit and matching towelling headband doing hamstring stretches, a woman thrusting a black and pink bum in the air as she tied her laces.
‘Hey! You came!’ He was as gorgeous as she’d remembered. His hair slightly longer and even more George Wickham. His eyes just as heavenly. He had a slight designer stubble thing going on this morning as well, which made him look incredibly sexy.
‘I did.’
‘And you’ve got new trainers.’
Frankie looked down at her new Adidas running shoes with the natty netted sides.
‘Yep. Cool aren’t they?’
He had a neat pile of stuff at his feet: sports bag, water bottle, perfectly folded sweatshirt. They were all lined up in a row. He even had what looked like three individually wrapped protein bars aligned like soldiers in a manly blue Tupperware box.
‘Well, you look great,’ he said, as she looked up. She noticed for the first time his voice had a slight northern quality to it. With his full and floppity hair, his impressive but tidy sideburns and his mesmerising full-lashed eyes, she half expected a neighing, saddled horse or a discarded pair of breeches to materialise behind him.
‘Thank you.’
‘My name’s Hugh, by the way.’
‘I’m Frankie.’
‘Well I’m ever so pleased to meet you, Frankie,’ he said, mock-formally. And he held out a hand, which she took. As their skin made contact he smiled and his gorgeous eyes crinkled at the corners. Wow. He was gorgeous. She felt all funny. ‘Right,’ he said, letting go of her hand despite her trying to hang on to it for a bit longer. ‘We’ll be off in a minute. Are you ready?’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘Let’s go for it then.’
He ran next to her for the entire twenty-five minutes. It was hard to chat when your knickers were up your bum (damn! New leggings, same problem), your boobs were one big wobbling block and you were out of breath. But she did her best. Hugh was very encouraging.
‘All right?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘Do you need to slow the pace?’
‘No, I’m okay.’
‘Think you’ll make it to the end?’
‘I hope so.’ She looked at his muscly legs pumping in impressive rhythmic fashion. ‘You’re very fit,’ she noted.
‘I’m a PE teacher.’
Of course he was.
At least she didn’t get a stitch this time, and when they got to the end of the run she mercifully didn’t feel like she wanted to die. She just had to sit down for ten minutes with her head on her knees saying, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’
Afterwards, he walked her to the edge of the car park.
‘Can I ask you something, Frankie?’ His beautiful eyes were boring into her. She was transfixed by them. ‘Are you married?’ Of course, he must have noticed her wedding ring. She still wore it. Actually, she didn’t dare attempt to try and get it off – she feared it wouldn’t pass her knuckle.
‘I’m separated.’
‘Oh. Good. That’s great.’ He looked really pleased. ‘Would you like to go out sometime? Could I take your number?’
Her heart gave a little leap. Would she like to go out sometime? She’d split with Rob to give her some time on her own. She was supposed to be single, and single for a year. She’d taken that pledge, with the girls, and she thought she’d keep it, easily. But he was so handsome, she was bored, she could do with some fun in her life and she needn’t tell anyone…
‘Yes. Okay. I’ll give you my number.’ He pulled his phone from his sports bag and tapped it in. Then slid the phone back into the front pocket of the bag. All the while he had a really intense look on his face. He was really looking at her. In her eyes. At her lips. Now she felt really funny. She felt all wibbly. She looked into his eyes. She looked at his lips.
‘Great,’ he said again. He stepped towards her. Then another step. When she thought he couldn’t get any closer, he got closer still. Her heart started pounding – what was happening? – and, before she knew it, they were kissing. Kissing! He had his hand on her left sweaty bum cheek. She had her fingers in his lovely hair. They were really going for it. They kissed for ages. Ages. She clutched on to him like a drowning woman to a lovely big, life-saving rock. He finally leant away from her, his lips flushed and a big grin on his gorgeous face.
‘I’ll text you,’ he said and bounded off into the car park.
‘What have you been up to? Your face is bright pink.’
Imogen had texted her as she walked – or rather swooned – home from Tesco’s, asking if she was free to meet for a quick coffee. Imogen was with Grace in town (James wasn’t having Daniel this weekend – he’d gone to the New Forest, with that bitch) and as Frankie was too wired to go home, she’d detoured to meet them. What the bloody hell had just happened? She’d kissed a man she barely knew, a man she’d met twice. They’d just kind of leapt on each other. It was unprecedented. It was so out of the blue… It was absolutely bloody fantastic.
‘I went for a run. The clue is in the outfit.’ She looked down at herself. It was a dry day and the trainers were still pretty pristine.
‘You?’ said Imogen, getting her purse out of her bag to pay for coffee.
‘I used to run, remember? I’ve decided to take it up again. I’ve joined a running group.’
‘Yeah, I remember. Good for you. Any hot men?’
‘If there were, I didn’t notice.’
‘So there were some?’
‘No.’
‘Well, great,’ said Imogen. ‘I’m pleased you’re running again. You used to love it.’
‘Does running make your chin all red?’ asked Grace. She was peering into the counter and deciding between a blueberry muffin and a millionaire shortbread.
‘Apparently,’ said Frankie vaguely. ‘So what have you two been up to?’
Imogen shrugged. ‘Not much. Just working.’ She started studying the Starbucks menu, above the counter, though they all knew exactly what was on it.
‘Just working,’ echoed Grace. ‘And staying in a lot. You know how it is.’
‘You’ve got that big do coming up haven’t you? James’s grandmother’s thing?’ said Frankie. ‘You still going?’ She wished she hadn’t met up with them now; she was feeling far too flustered, but she thought as long as she kept the conversation off her, she could get through it. When she got home would be the time to jump up and down and screech her head off.
‘Yes,’ replied Grace. ‘I’ve decided just to go on my own.’
‘Really?’ said Imogen. ‘I could come with you?’
‘It’s not your thing,’ said Grace. ‘And thanks again for your offer, Frankie, before you say anything. Honestly, I’m fine going by myself.’
They were now at the front of the queue and gave their order. Frankie knew it wasn’t really post-workout fare but she ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream – she needed the sugar. As they sat down at a table she said, ‘Well, I’m impressed, Grace. Going on your own. I think that’s fabulous.’ Grace never went anywhere on her own. Frankie was really impressed.
‘Thanks, Frankie,’ said Grace. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘Good being single, isn’t it?’ said Imogen.
‘Hmm,’ said Frankie and Grace, and the three of them sat with their heads lowered and stirred their drinks.