Page 42 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘I’m sorry about your boyfriend,’ Max said, ‘and about your boss losing faith in you. Those things must have been hard.’
She nodded. ‘They were a bit of a pickaxe to my confidence – but not for long. I was off work for a while, and when I came back … somehow everything had moved on, and I couldn’t, for whatever reason, keep up. You know when something’s tainted, and you feel as if, even if youcouldclaw your way back to where you had been, it’s gone beyond the point of no return?’
‘Yeah, I understand that,’ he said quietly. ‘Why were you off work?’
‘Some scaffolding fell on me,’ she said, and watched Max’s eyes widen in alarm. ‘I’m OK, obviously. Completely fine. Mostly, anyway.’
‘Your shoulder?’ Max asked, his brows drawing together.
‘I – oh.’ She was rubbing it again. ‘Yes. I fractured my shoulder, hence being off work, hence ending up with a windfall that let me move here.’
‘Does it still affect you badly?’
‘It gets stiff and sore when it’s damp. And cold. Maybe I should relocate to the Bahamas.’ She laughed, but he was frowning. ‘It’s OK, honestly.’
He shook his head, as if clearing his mind of unwelcome thoughts. ‘You know, spending time with you, you’d never guess you’d had such a hard time of it.’
‘Who wants to be a victim? I’d much rather get on with things, focus on the positives. There’s no lasting damage apart from a few aches and pains. It could have been so much worse.’
He nodded, his gaze intensifying. ‘You don’t mind living on your own in that barn?’
She took a gulp of wine before replying. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re sociable. Fun. I expectyouwouldn’t mind a house-share.’
‘Are you kidding? I’m not sharing my toilet paper with anyone. Besides, you’re sociable too. You’re fine with just you and Oxo, and I’ve got Henry,andLiam next door, and don’t forget Marion, who is intent on helping me open every package that lands on my doorstep.’
The colour rose in Max’s cheeks, and she knew he was thinking about Victoria’s Secret purchases.
‘Why did you stop being a personal trainer?’ she asked, letting him off the hook. ‘Did you get an injury, too?’
‘Sort of.’ Max picked up a beer mat and started shredding it.
‘What does “sort of” mean?’
‘I got something called myocarditis,’ he said. ‘It’s inflammation of the heart.’
‘What?’ Her reply was croaky, his words, spoken so matter-of-factly, shocking her.
‘It can happen to anyone,’ he went on. ‘But younger people, especially if they’re particularly healthy, can get it. That’s what happened to me. And I recovered – I’m fine now. But my specialist suggested that, while Icanexercise, being a personal trainer, being involved in such intenseactivity, so frequently, was a risk. I decided I didn’t want to risk it.’ He shrugged, but Ollie could see his pulse beating in his neck: it looked like it was racing.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Can I – do you mind if I ask about it?’
‘Not at all. I’m not trying to hide anything.’
She sat back in her chair, then worried that Max would think she was distancing herself from him, so she sat forward again. Beneath the table, she stretched out her legs and, when she found his, unashamedly tangled them together. She saw the surprise on his face, but then it settled into something softer, as if he understood what she was doing.
‘How old were you?’ she asked.
‘Thirty-two. It was four years ago.’
‘And if you were a PT … I’ve always thought that was more about shouting at people, getting them to do the exercise, than doing it yourself.’
He nodded. ‘That’s a large part of it, but you have to be able to teach all the latest routines and workouts, know the science behind it, keep up with your clients. And I was fitness obsessed, to be honest. I wasn’t ado as I say, not as I dotrainer. It was easier for me to walk away.’
‘And open up a café? From getting people fit, to getting them fat.’
He laughed, and Ollie was pleased. It was clearly a difficult topic, and she didn’t want to bring his mood down.
