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  ‘Carrie! It’s a two-minute walk.’

  ‘Someone might see us.’

  ‘Yeah, that hot vicar, with a bit of luck,’ said Jo, adjusting her cleavage. Even head to toe in Nike, she looked amazing.

  ‘It’s all right for you two; you’re both skinny, everyone’s going to look at me.’

  ‘It’s the village hall, not Muscle Beach.’ Sarah laughed. She ran up the stairs, kissed her men goodbye, grabbed a towel and shooed Jo and Carrie out of the door.

  A delicate Chinese woman with the poise of a ballerina sat in the lotus position on the stage, eyes closed and hands resting palms-upwards on her knees. She was wearing loose linen trousers and a tunic with a mandarin collar. Her black hair, threaded with a few strands of silver, was scraped back into a bun. A second, elderly Chinese woman, with a toothless smile, sat at a small table just inside the door of the hall and collected their money.

  The hall’s main fluorescent lighting was off and the spot-lights created shadows across the stage. The only other light source came from the green emergency exit lights, casting a ghoulish glow on the bodies lying prostrate on the floor. Relaxing sounds of pan pipes, waves crashing and the occasional distant sound of birds emanated from a speaker, and Sarah felt as if she should walk on tiptoe and hold her breath.

  ‘It’s packed,’ she hissed, as they laid down mats at the back in a row and placed their towels at the end, copying everyone else.

  ‘And pitch black,’ said Jo.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Carrie.

  ‘Namaste,’ said the teacher. She stood in one fluid motion, hands together, and bowed to the room.

  ‘Ooh, we’re off,’ said Jo.

  Following the teacher’s moves took up all Sarah’s concentration and for the next fifteen minutes, she focused solely on her posture and her breathing. It felt good to exercise again. Before giving birth she had been acutely aware of her body, her muscles and her joints. But since Zac had arrived she had been so wrapped up in his tiny form that she had ignored her own flabby figure. This was just what she needed.

  She was sure she had read somewhere about a yoga class for babies. That would be amazing. But it would probably be in the daytime when she was at work, filling in time-ledgers and dealing with HMRC. Like every other parent and baby activity …

  As the instructor talked them through their poses, Sarah couldn’t resist a smile. Friday night spent in the village hall – she was really living on the edge. Twelve months ago, she and Dave would have been heading off to a restaurant. Now she was going to yoga. Her social life had well and truly taken a nosedive. Still, this was village life. This was what she had wanted. The trendy unmarried set from work was going out for drinks in town tonight. They hadn’t invited her, but that was fine, she wouldn’t have gone anyway.

  This was definitely what she wanted.

  She bent forward and grasped hold of her ankles as instructed. She glanced sideways at Jo, who had her hands on Carrie’s back, pressing her down to the floor. The poor thing was going red in the face, trying to reach her ankles.

  A rough count told her there were about thirty others in the room, only two of them men. A shiny curtain of dark hair hid the face of the woman on the front row, but Sarah could tell straight away from the slender body it was Rebecca, from the mother and baby group. Sarah eyed her figure enviously; her little girl was only a few weeks older than Zac, but Rebecca’s Lycra-clad body showed no signs of baby weight. She was tall, toned and gorgeous. Sarah sucked in her tummy and looked away.

  She knelt down on all fours as the teacher instructed.

  ‘Visualize yourself as a cat, arching and stretching your back, exhaling and inhaling.’

  All around her people were hollowing and arching their backs to the rhythm of the gentle music and from the back of the hall, Sarah’s field of vision was filled with row upon row of bums in all shapes and sizes. It all started to feel slightly surreal. A wave of hysteria lurked dangerously at the side of her consciousness. She pinched her lips together and tried to concentrate.

  ‘Meow,’ said Jo softly, pretending to lick one hand and rub it behind her ear. Sarah snorted.

  ‘This isn’t exercise,’ Jo muttered, ‘it reminds me of drama at school.’

  ‘Shush,’ panted Carrie, flicking her eyes nervously to the front, ‘you’ll get us thrown out.’

  ‘Sit back on your heels, forehead to the floor, stretch your arms back towards your toes in the pose of the child.’

  ‘I can either sit on my heels or rest my forehead on the floor. Not both at the same bloomin’ time!’ moaned Carrie.

  Prrrufff.

  Jo clapped both hands across her mouth and collapsed on to her face, shaking with laughter.

  ‘What was that?’ giggled Sarah, thinking that yoga might not be much of a night out but she hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

  ‘Sorry!’ Carrie squeaked.

  ‘Carrie just farted,’ Jo sniggered breathlessly.

  Sarah stuffed the corner of her towel in her mouth and rolled on to her side. Seconds later all three of them were writhing with illicit silent laughter.

  It was like being back at school, Sarah thought. The more they tried to be sensible, the more hilarious everything seemed.

  A pair of tiny bare feet appeared at the back row.

  ‘I am very glad you are finding happiness in my class. But for the benefit of the rest of the group, please channel your positive energy into your postures.’

  The teacher nodded her head once and turned back to the room. Jo poked her tongue out but Carrie looked mortified. Sarah’s grin faded as she caught sight of Rebecca staring at her, stony faced. She felt her heart sink. Bang went any chance of making friends there. Still, her loss.

  Sarah realized the rest of the class was on the move. She blinked and checked out what Jo was doing.

  ‘From there we will push up, straight arms, straight legs and into downward-facing dog.’

  Sarah closed her eyes, bit the side of her cheek and tried to block out Jo’s voice murmuring, ‘Woof woof.’

  It was dark as Carrie led Jo and Sarah up the hill towards Fern House. They were helpless with laughter as they relived their yoga highlights. The three of them had really bonded in the last hour and Carrie was glowing with happiness. She put that mostly down to her unfortunate bout of wind. It was a good job the lights had been low; her face had been scarlet with embarrassment.

  ‘I can’t believe I fell asleep during the relaxation bit at the end,’ groaned Sarah, rolling her eyes. ‘Did anyone notice?’

  ‘Not until you started snoring,’ said Jo. ‘How does Dave sleep with that racket?’

  ‘Listen, when you’ve had a baby, nothing stands between you and sleep. We can both zonk out at the drop of a hat. As you have now witnessed.’

  A security light came on as they reached the front door, dazzling Carrie’s eyes and making her drop the door key. She bent down to retrieve it and Jo blew a raspberry.

  ‘Pardon you, Carrie.’

  ‘Very funny.’ She put the key in the lock and gave the oak door a shove. ‘Be grateful I didn’t have Brussels sprouts for dinner. Anyway, I wouldn’t be too smug. The rest of the group couldn’t tell which one of us had done it. So, guilty by association, I’m afraid, girls.’

  She held the door open and ushered them inside.

  ‘This is a proper grown-up house, Carrie,’ said Sarah. ‘Huge compared to ours. Want to swap?’

  Carrie beamed; this was her domain and she was proud of her home.

  ‘Wow!’ said Jo, wide-eyed, turning a full circle in the hall. ‘Will you come and do my flat?’

  ‘It’s like something out of a glossy magazine,’ breathed Sarah, wandering round like Alice in Wonderland, trailing a finger along the oak banisters, huge hall mirror and oak console table.

  Country Homes and Interiors to be precise. Carrie tweaked a dead leaf from her vase of lilies, secretly thrilled with their reaction. Alex had come into some money after his mum died
and had given her carte blanche to do up the house. She’d spent ages choosing all the furniture, getting the look just right.

  Everyone’s trainers squeaked on the flagstone floor in the hall. Alex was out, she was sure, or he’d have made an appearance by now.

  ‘Come through to the kitchen, I’ve got healthy nibbles.’

  Once inside, Sarah gasped. ‘It’s a Farrow-and-Ball-hued oasis of calm. And I love this table.’ She pulled out a heavy wooden chair and sat down at the huge pale wood table and circled her hands on its surface. ‘I think it’s bigger than our whole kitchen.’

  ‘Thank you,’ murmured Carrie, pulling dishes of hummus and raw vegetables out of the fridge and arranging them on the table.

  ‘I’ve got some serious kitchen envy,’ Jo laughed, pulling open cupboards until she found the glasses. ‘Water everyone?’

  Carrie marvelled at Jo’s confidence as she watched her pour them all some drinks. She would have dehydrated before helping herself in someone else’s home.

  ‘My kitchen walls are decorated with random tester-pot squares of paint and splattered baby food,’ Sarah sighed, dipping into the dish of crudités. ‘And look at your surfaces: where’s the clutter, or fingerprints and grease-smears?’

  ‘Sterile, you mean?’ said Carrie, thinking that at least Sarah’s cottage was full of life.

  ‘Oh Carrie, what I wouldn’t give for sterile,’ groaned Sarah. She swirled a carrot stick through the dish of hummus. ‘You have no idea!’

  ‘I think we do,’ said Jo with a snort. ‘We’ve seen your hand-sanitizer habit.’

  Sarah’s face went pink. ‘Just trying to keep my little boy safe.’

  ‘Shall we talk about the wish list?’ Carrie suggested, keen to keep the conversation light.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Sarah. ‘Can you take notes please, Carrie? I think we should keep a record of progress.’

  Jo met Carrie’s gaze and quirked an eyebrow mischievously.

  ‘Have you lost any weight yet?’ asked Sarah, once Carrie had sorted out paper and pen.

  Sarah could be a little bossy, but Carrie couldn’t help but be impressed by her dedication to the wish list, even if the directness of the question made her twitch anxiously.

  ‘Getting there. I’ve weighed and measured myself,’ said Carrie, not quite meeting Sarah’s eye.

  ‘And?’ Sarah probed.

  Jo tutted. ‘You don’t have to tell us your weight,’ she said with a sideways glance at Sarah.

  ‘I’ve stuck to my diet like glue,’ said Carrie, widening her eyes, trying to convince herself as much as anything. ‘But I’ve only lost a couple of pounds so far.’

  ‘A few pounds is progress,’ said Jo, giving her a round of applause. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

  ‘It’s a start,’ Sarah agreed, patting her hand. ‘Write that down.’

  Carrie did as she was told. What she didn’t tell them was that after standing on the scales and finding out what a pathetic result it was, she had spent the afternoon consoling herself with the top tray of a box of chocolates.

  ‘This partnership wish of yours,’ said Jo, pushing her chair back from the table and crossing her long legs. ‘Tell us more.’

  ‘Ah, well.’ Sarah pulled out a scruffy square of paper from the pocket of her shorts. ‘I found this in Accountancy Times. It’s a job advertisement for a partner to join a practice. It’s not for my firm, but it’s a starting point. It says, “Must have business acumen, impeccable networking and people skills, a flexible approach to working hours and be highly organized”. Which is good news, because I’ve got all of that.’

  Carrie stayed silent. She didn’t know Sarah all that well, but highly organized? She couldn’t say in all honesty that Sarah fitted into that category. And wasn’t ‘flexible working hours’ another way of saying ‘long’? And as for people skills … She bit her lip.

  Sarah shifted awkwardly. ‘Actually, I’m not sure I do have any business acumen. It’s all about profit at our place. We’re given a set number of hours to complete each job and I hate rushing, that’s when mistakes are made. I’m not that flexible either, come to think of it.’ She pushed a hand through her curls. ‘I’ve got the rest of the skills down pat, though.’

  ‘Good work. I’ll put “research into required skills done”, then.’ Carrie made a note then stood up to put the kettle on. ‘How about you, Jo?’ she asked. ‘Have you thought about when your fear of heights kicked in?’

  Jo shuddered. ‘I asked my parents about it the other night. Turns out I was a bit of a daredevil when I was young. I used to frighten my mum to death. She was quite over-protective towards me, which my dad says made me worse.’

  Sarah smirked. ‘I can imagine you being a bit of a handful.’

  Jo pretended to look offended and helped herself to some grapes.

  ‘And did something happen?’ Carrie asked.

  ‘Yeah, when I was seven in the Lake District. We were up a mountain and I was running ahead shouting “look at me, look at me” and pretending to fall off the edge, to wind my mum up. Then all of a sudden I let out a scream and disappeared. Then there was an eerie silence.’

  Carrie pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, Jo!’

  ‘Had you fallen?’ Sarah asked with a gasp.

  Jo nodded.

  ‘Apparently I’d spotted a dead sheep and had leaned out too far to have a better look. My parents found me clinging to a tiny rocky ledge, luckily just at arm’s length from where they were. My dad yanked me up and my mum grabbed hold of me and forced me to look over the cliff edge again, screaming at me that I could have fallen to my death like that sheep. After that I was so traumatized that I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other.’

  ‘Your poor mother,’ said Sarah. ‘If anything ever happened to Zac …’ She shuddered.

  ‘And poor you,’ said Carrie, putting a mug of coffee in front of her. ‘Has it helped you, do you think, getting to the root of the problem?’

  Jo shook her head. ‘Nah. Other than raking up bad memories and making my mother feel guilty at being responsible for my phobia, it hasn’t achieved anything. I don’t know where I go from here.’

  Carrie felt a surge of euphoria. She had bought a book about phobias and had come up with a plan to help Jo.

  ‘Well, I’ve got an experiment I’d like to try with you one day, maybe next week?’ she said, her eyes sparkling with hope. ‘If you’ll trust me, that is?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Jo with a shrug. ‘Hey, look!’

  She nodded at Sarah whose eyes were closed and her head was lolling on her shoulders. Jo smirked. ‘I think I’d better get Mrs Impeccable-People-Skills home before she starts snoring again, don’t you?’

  Chapter 7

  The multi-storey car park was busy for a Monday morning. Carrie had chosen the tallest one in the city, nine floors in total, and she was struggling to find a space to park on the ground floor. It had to be the ground floor or else the plan might not work. Her four-wheel drive wasn’t the easiest vehicle to park either in these narrow spaces. She’d wanted something small and nippy and easy to manoeuvre, but Alex had argued that a big car was more sensible for country living, especially in the winter. He was right, of course, as usual.

  She spotted a space and saw Jo locking her car, looking effortlessly sexy in a short wool coat and heels. Damn. She was a little bit in awe of the glamorous Jo and would have liked to have made a good impression. Now she was going to have to reverse-park the beast with an audience. And to make matters worse, there was a car waiting to get past.

  Two minutes later she took the keys out of the transmission with a pink face and aching arms. The alarms on both of the neighbouring cars were sounding angrily. The driver of the waiting car roared away, shaking his head.

  She opened the door a few inches. Jo was standing at the front bumper, wiping tears from her eyes. Carrie’s smile slipped a bit. If she was to have any chance of helping Jo overcome her fear of heights, she needed to
give off an air of confidence. So far she was vastly underachieving.

  ‘Oh, Carrie, sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but you did make a meal of that. I thought that man in the other car was going to hit you.’

  ‘I can’t get out,’ said Carrie weakly, her heart sinking.

  She’d parked too close to the car next to her. She couldn’t face shunting the car backwards and forwards again. There was nothing else for it; she threw her leg over the handbrake and gingerly climbed across the gear stick to the passenger door. It took some effort and with Jo splitting her sides laughing, it was hard not to see the funny side herself.

  ‘Very ladylike,’ said Jo.

  ‘If I wasn’t so big this wouldn’t be an issue,’ Carrie said breathlessly.

  ‘If your car wasn’t so big, you mean. Don’t worry, you haven’t done any damage to the other cars. Yet.’

  ‘Good. I’ll just get my bag out of the boot. Oh no …’

  Carrie didn’t think her face could get any redder as Jo clapped a hand over her mouth. Carrie had reversed so close to the wall behind that she couldn’t open the boot. This wasn’t a good start. She was supposed to be in control of today’s task, demonstrating to Jo that she was competent and capable. Instead, she was looking like a prize buffoon.

  ‘Thanks for the distraction,’ said Jo, after Carrie had inched the car forward enough to retrieve her bag. ‘You made me totally forget the reason for being here for a few minutes. And much as I’m quaking in my boots, I really appreciate you doing this for me.’

  Carrie was ridiculously flattered.

  ‘I can’t believe you agreed to come. I mean, with you being so busy at work.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee that I’ll cooperate,’ Jo said with a smirk. ‘But I thought I’d show willing.’

  Carrie took a deep breath, tried to remember everything she had read and put on her most authoritative voice. ‘OK. We’re starting on the ground floor and we’re going to work our way up.’

  ‘Actually,’ Jo looked around her and pointed to the exit, ‘I really fancy a coffee. Shall we go and find a café first and then—’