‘One more, you can do it, Monika.’
Grace encouraged her from above her head. Monika stared into Grace’s crotch and pushed the bar higher. The last centimetre of effort seemed to be impossible and she stared up at her personal trainer with panic in her eyes. Hot exhaustion stripped her arms of power and for a split second she felt chained and helpless in the position, suspended in time, not moving, imprisoned in the endeavour. Tony’s words to her this morning sat in the final chasm between success and failure.
‘You’re nothing without me.’
He’d begun to suspect her, and ask her where she was going when she left the house. He paid for everything: her car, her home, her clothes… her liberty. The woman he caught the train with to London took title in her assets, and that’s what Tony admired in her. But those rules didn’t apply to his wife. He rabbited on about how his companion on the King’s Cross service scrapped for every bit of independence she’d gained. She was a triumph, a heralded champion of female capability.
Monika had never met Carrie but had heard plenty about her.
The torture of captivity welled up inside her and travelled to her arms and she made the final push.
‘Yes!’
Grace took the weight off her and replaced it on its rack, clapping her hands together.
Monika sat up, panting, and a regular gym-goer nodded his approval. Grace waved at him and went to stop her phone camera.
‘This will go live this afternoon.’
‘I told my husband, and he wasn’t happy about it,’ Monika said.
‘He should be proud. I’m demonstrating what can be achieved with hard work,’ Grace told her.
‘I know, but he sees it as showing off.’
‘Would he see it that way if I asked him to star in one of my videos?’ Grace asked.
Monika laughed. ‘No, probably not, but that’s different, isn’t it? Men think they’re the strong ones.’
‘Hmm. Well my clients prove that theory wrong every day, and that’s what my channel is all about, showing that women can be tough. Not hard, but resilient. Strength isn’t all about masculinity, is it?’ Grace asked.
‘No, it isn’t,’ Monika agreed.
‘And you don’t have to enter a body-building competition to have goals,’ Grace added. ‘You look after yourself, Monika. Well done. We’ll get thousands of views. And besides, I ignore haters, they ruin our fun. Any dodgy comments, and I block them. My channel is taken seriously.’
Monika took her weights gloves off one by one and laid them across her lap.
‘You okay?’ Grace asked her.
Monika thought for a brief moment about confiding in her personal trainer, but the notion passed, and she smiled and nodded.
‘Have you thought more about going back to practise law?’ Grace asked.
Monika paused. ‘I checked. The university said it can be done, a conversion to English law, but my husband…’
Grace stood with her hands on her hips and searched her client’s face.
Ignacio interrupted them. ‘Hey, Grace, Orlando wants to see you after your session. Hi Monika. Working hard, I see.’
‘Thank you. She’s pushing me.’
He walked away and the conversation sidled naturally back on to safer topics, like the heatwave and how the air conditioning at the gym whirred under the strain. But Monika was a little quieter for the rest of their session together.