Page 15 of Six Steps to Happiness
The treadmill sprang to life, forcing Ronnie into a steady jog.
“Is that okay?” Michael asked.
Ronnie assessed the tempo. “So far, so good,” she replied, glad to note that, at that pace, her arms and legs still worked in tandem.
“Great. I’ll leave you to it and see you in…” Michael checked his watch, “…fifteen.”
Watching him go, Ronnie relaxed into her stride, surprised at how comfortable she felt. Not only with the running, but with being surrounded by other people. Aside of any art fairs, her job as a handbag designer meant spending day after day on her own and while she loved what she did, she had to admit that life in her studio could be a bit isolating; to the point that socialising often felt like a chore. Glancing around, Ronnie wondered if that was the reasoning behind Willow and Bea’s choice for step one oftheirplan. Maybe they’d put more thought into it than she’d realised. She smiled a happy smile. The gym was like a halfway house. She could be amongst people, without necessarily having to mingle.
After a while, Ronnie began to feel a tad warm and staring at the treadmill’s control panel, she wondered if she could slow it down. When it came to the buttons, however, the machine utilised icons instead of words and trying to figure out their different functionalities didn’t only prove hard, it was like trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs. Ronnie wiped her brow and with no other choice, focused on the timer instead, soon realising that that was equally as frustrating. The countdown seemed to be taking forever, leaving Ronnie convinced there had to be a fault in the machine’s programming. In her view, real time wasn’t that slow, no wonder she was starting to feel a bit breathless.
Ronnie scanned the room, hoping to catch Michael’s attention. Spotting him, she thrust her arm in the air and waved. However, much to her disappointment, he was too busy chatting to notice any request for assistance, leaving her no choice but to keep on running.
Ronnie squinted as she observed his and the other man’s easy interaction, enough to tell her that the unknown male was a regular. Although, unlike the other men present, his build appeared toned rather than beefy. Her eyes narrowed even more, as for some reason he seemed vaguely familiar, not that Ronnie could think why. With his greying blond hair, gorgeous physique, the man wasn’t just tall and handsome, he wasn’t someone she’d easily forget.
As she watched the stranger shake Michael’s hand and then head in her direction, Ronnie immediately tidied herself up, pushing rogue strands of hair behind her ears and pulling down her T-shirt. She ignored the pain developing in her calves, instead making a mental note to purchase extra durable deodorant prior to her next visit. She might not be in the market for a new chap, but that didn’t mean she wanted this one seeing her sweat patches.
Smiling his way, her expression suddenly went from demure to demented.
“Hello there,” PC Shenton said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Officer,” Ronnie replied, wiping yet more damp hair away from her face. “I didn’t recognise you without your uniform.”
As if Ronnie’s heart wasn’t racing enough as she continued to run, it picked up a notch and beat faster. She didn’t know what it was about police officers, but even when she wasn’t doing anything wrong, they had this ability to make her feel guilty. Except on that occasion she wasn’t exactly innocent.
“Please, call me Jack. I’m not at work now.”
Too busy trying to get air into her lungs, Ronnie attempted another smile in response.
“Good to see you keeping out of trouble,” he carried on. “Getting on with life, after… you know.”
Ronnie let out a short sharp laugh. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’ve learnt my lesson,” she replied, struggling to both inhale and talk.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” Jack continued.
“First time,” Ronnie said, realising that, for her own sake, she’d have to keep her answers short. She glanced at the treadmill’s control panel, trying to deduce which button would bring the machine to a standstill. Forced to guess, the machine beeped as she pressed, but instead of slowing down it sped up. With her feet picking up pace, she stabbed at another icon making the machine tilt. Obliged to run up an incline, it was all Ronnie could do not to whimper.
“I’m impressed,” Jack said.
Ronnie pursed her lips. At least someone was.
Usually excellent at multi-tasking, breathing, talking and hill running was proving increasingly difficult and Ronnie wasn’t sure how long she could keep going.
“I suppose I should leave you to your warm-up,” Jack said.
Warm?Things had gone way beyond that.
Ronnie smiled and nodded. “Okay,” she said, all the while doing her utmost to appear in control.
At last, PC Jack Shenton went on his way and she immediately reached for the buttons, pressing each and every one of them over and over in an attempt to stop the treadmill, unfortunately to no avail. Stabbing at them, she suddenly lost what little rhythm she had left in her legs and her feet went from under her. Ronnie heard herself yelp as her face planted onto the conveyor belt. Yelping again, she instantly flew backwards as the belt flung her off and into the wall.
10
“Here, sit down,” Jack said. Having taken Ronnie’s arm, he gently steered her into the gym office, before easing her down onto a chair at the desk. He took the towel he’d slung over one of his shoulders and placed it over Ronnie’s chest, like it was some sort of adult bib.
Ronnie thought it a kind gesture, even if it was pointless. Her clothes were already covered in blood thanks to the impact with which her face had hit the treadmill’s running belt; her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding since.
“Pinch it, like this,” Jack said, lifting his hand and placing a finger and thumb on each of his nostrils to demonstrate. “And put your head down.”
