Della Fitzpatrick had pulled out the mats, softballs and stretch bands for the Pilates class on the veranda of her villa, which had a glorious mountain view, but the turnout was thin. All of the usual suspects were either too lazy to come because of the heat, injured or busy elsewhere. Ariadne and Hebe were there, Natalie Fletcher, so thin in black leggings and T-shirt, and for once Kelly Partridge had made an appearance in a new Sweaty Betty outfit with jazzy leggings.
‘Got to get in shape for the party season,’ she said. ‘Too cold to swim in the sea now.’
‘The water’s warmer than ever this year. I had a swim this morning,’ Ariadne said. ‘So refreshing.’
Della began the usual warm-up. They exercised in the shade, looking out over the rooftops of the village towards the hills. Her clients were a mixed bunch fitness-wise, but Hebe worried her. Her coordination was clumsy and needed watching. Ariadne was lithe and fit for her age.
Della was feeling a bit wobbly. She hadn’t meant to hit the bottle last night but Chloë’s choice of book for the next meeting seemed very disjointed and she’d lost interest after fifty pages. It was one of those days when she got the glums. What was she doing stuck on a remote island with winter coming on? She dreaded the darkness, with just DVDs and the World Service during the night when she couldn’t sleep. And she must stop buying that cheap vodka.
On every trip to the mainland she ordered her supplies to be delivered discreetly in a box off the ferry. Only the twice-weekly Pilates class kept her sober enough to go through the moves, checking clients’ postures and positions. Della had come to Greece for the light, the brightness of its colours, and because it was as far away from Yorkshire, with its grey skies, cold, damp air, and memories, as she could get.
‘Right, let’s stand and stretch,’ she ordered, hoping that the alcohol on her breath was disguised by the peppermint mouthwash. ‘How’s this choir of yours coming on, Ariadne? Have we got a line-up yet?’
Ariadne was bending slowly as instructed into the dog position. ‘We’ve got three men so far and I’ll be twisting a few arms in the taverna. I’ve put a poster up in the village store and the first rehearsal is next Monday in our olive garden. You will come?’
Kelly Partridge laughed. ‘You won’t catch me there. I’ve sung in school assembly and then only when I bothered to turn up. Adele is more my cup of tea.’
‘I like Alfie Bowe and Russell Watson,’ Natalie said, but Kelly pulled a face.
‘I’m sure you’d like listening to carols,’ Ariadne offered.
‘You’re joking. That’s for kids. You should recruit from the school.’
‘I will if I need to, and teach the local children “Away in a Manger”,’ Ariadne said, not prepared to be put off.
‘There you go. A kiddie choir to bring all the parents in and no need for oldies to make fools of themselves,’ Kelly replied.
After that no one spoke. Della wanted to crown Kelly with one of the metal knee stretchers. She was such a common piece of work, with her hair extensions, body tanned tangerine and thighs full of cellulite. The girl was overweight and unfit, so there was always a chance she might want a personal trainer. Della knew they had a gym of sorts, a film room, an infinity pool and a view to die for. Such a pity that Kelly had a mean little mouth but a gob as big as the Mersey tunnel. Why they’d come to Santaniki was a mystery. Surely Ibiza was more their style.
You mustn’t be unkind, she thought. Who are you to judge anyone? They all know you’re no saint but are too polite to comment on your little weakness. Concentrate! They’re paying you for this. Della showed them some new positions and stretches. I’ll improve the fitness of these punters even if I’m ruining my own. She couldn’t wait for the class to finish so she could settle down in the sun with a large glass of wine. It was not as if she was an alcoholic or anything, but the comfort in a glass was the answer to everything just at this moment.