Chapter 5 #2
‘I’m in since four,’ she explained. ‘I used to work in the Johnson’s bakery so I’m used to it. I don’t like lying-in in the mornings, it’s not good for my head. After this I go on and do the dinners for the homeless.’
‘Well, you’re amazing,’ Ally announced as she reappeared in her new jogging outfit. Evelyn’s serene expression didn’t flicker as she began deftly icing her first carrot cake.
‘Will you be warm enough?’
Ally realised later that she should have taken the hint. Evelyn didn’t say much, and when she did, she meant it. If this was The Owl’s Nest, then she was the owl: silent, nocturnal and watchful.
But bugger that, today was the first morning of her big life change and she was going to live it. Slim, gorgeous, fit. She whizzed past Evelyn with a wave, humming the old Queen song, ‘Don’t stop me now . . .’, zipped up her matching fleece and emerged out onto the street.
Dodging the pedestrians was one thing, but she was mainly focusing on the other runners – or rather, how professional they looked: guys with muscly legs, fitness trackers and the sort of running shoes that cost what she’d spend on a weekend away.
She remembered that the last time she’d actually been jogging was a fun run for the children’s hospital, where half of the participants were in fancy dress.
It was hard to feel anything but competent when you had a giant chicken running one side of you and a hairy ballerina on the other.
She tried to ignore her jagged breathing, conscious of inhaling car exhaust as she hopped over litter and random dog poo.
Nothing worthwhile was easy, she reminded herself.
She ran along Thundercut Alley, then left onto Queen Street – although, ‘running’ was an exaggeration, as every other jogger and even hurried pedestrians whizzed past her.
Nonetheless, she was eleven minutes in and still breathing; she unzipped her fleece and tied it round her waist – go me, she whooped inwardly – and for one unguarded moment she stepped out to cross Haymarket.
Next thing she heard was a screech of brakes and a yell from behind, while simultaneously feeling a thump in her side.
‘What the fuck?’
She was aware of something grey beside her head that turned out to be the kerb.
As everything swung back into focus, she registered that she was lying on her back at the side of the road, winded and dizzy, with her legs splayed in her ripped Lululemon co-ord.
The cyclist, who had thankfully been able to jam on the brakes and come to a sliding halt, was staring at her, shocked and incredulous.
‘What the hell? You walked straight out . . . What the hell was I supposed to do?’
They were about equally stunned, so a second passed before she recognised who was under the tea-cosy hat.
‘William?’
She’d just never seen him with an expression of mixed shock and fury before.
‘Ally, shit, are you OK? Seriously, though, you weren’t looking. You could’ve been killed.’
Which was absolutely true. It was just the last thing she needed to hear when her head was still ringing, presumably from a bang.
‘I know, I know, sorry.’
A kindly older man offered to help her up but by this stage she was back on her feet, still too shocked to register any pain. All she could think of was the last time they’d met . . . and judging by William’s face, he was thinking the same.
‘Erm, sorry . . . Look, I was away at the weekend. Are you OK? I have to go now . . . once you’re all right . . . Are you all right? You seem to be . . . which is great, but I’ll get in touch, OK?’
Ally was too dazed to think of a reply so nodded mutely as William climbed on his racing bike and headed off in the direction of Celtic Concrete.
She limped the short distance back to The Owl’s Nest and pushed open the door.
‘Bloody hell, what happened to you?’ Pete was unpacking his tools and setting up for the day.
‘Nothing, nothing, a guy . . . I know . . . crashed into me on his bike but I’m fine, I think. I suppose it gives a whole new meaning to “I ran into someone” . . .’
She petered out, realising Pete and Evelyn were staring at her in alarm, and glanced down to see that her leggings were ripped and her knees underneath were bleeding.
‘Jeez, come back here and sit down. I’ll get the first-aid box,’ said Pete, while Evelyn offered to make tea.
He dusted the sawdust off a chair for her to sit down. She looked at the ripped leggings – how was she going to manage this discreetly?
Pete was rummaging in the first-aid box so she peeled them off, too dazed to care that she was now sitting opposite Pete in her knickers, while thanking the great influencer in the sky that she’d had her legs waxed recently.
Getting knocked down was bad enough but getting knocked down with hairy legs . . .
‘It was totally my fault, the whole thing . . . I’m fine,’ she blabbed.
‘Will you stop it, you’re probably still in shock. Sit still.’
She tried to explain about William while leaving out the part about their last meeting, obviously.
She realised it was something she didn’t want Pete to know.
He carefully poured disinfectant on cotton wool, and the familiar smell of Dettol filled the room.
Ally began to feel comforted. She found herself focusing on the tossed, dusty brown hair and powerful shoulders she’d observed the previous day tearing down a partition wall, but here he was, gently wiping the grit from the cut on her knee, which was still bleeding.
For a second she felt her hand almost reaching out to touch his hair. Stop it! What was she thinking?
‘Hold the lint there while I cut the plaster.’
His tone had something authoritative about it, as though he was used to taking charge.
‘Jeez, you were lucky, this could’ve been nasty. You could’ve cracked your skull,’ he muttered.
‘I wasn’t looking where I was going, that’s the truth.’
‘Sure, we all do that from time to time. What were you thinking of, going running through rush hour anyway?’ He smiled up at her.
‘Trying to get fit.’
‘Fit for what?’
She inhaled but couldn’t put together a reason that wouldn’t sound lame. Pete seemed to read her thoughts.
‘Is he worth it?’
Just then, Evelyn stuck her head around the corner.
‘Dave texted, says he’ll be in by ten. I’ll hang on to do breakfast with you, Ally.’
‘God, I’d better get moving. Thank you for looking after me, Pete.’
He nodded, then without looking up, remarked, ‘I mean it, if you have to change that much for anyone . . .’
Something in his tone made her wonder whether he was referring to her or himself.