Chapter 33
It was hard going, jogging on the beach. Despite the freshness of the tumbling waves, the cool sea breeze and the damp sand, Maxine was already worn out. They’d been running for a good six minutes. Jo was puffing like a steam train. Maxine shrieked, flopped forward and said, ‘I’m so unfit.’
‘We’ve overdone it,’ Jo said. Her eyes twinkled. ‘Baby steps, remember?’
‘You’re right.’ Maxine gave her a spontaneous hug. ‘My legs kill.’
‘Let’s just jog a bit, turn round and come back. That will be one kilometre. Or near enough.’
‘All right.’ Maxine took off at a halting stumble, focusing on the flight of steps that led to the road, not far away.
She felt her breath coming sharply again.
Earlier, she’d envisioned herself healthy and lithe in Lycra.
In fact, she was unfit in sagging tracksuit bottoms, a baggy vest and a pointless sports bra.
Jo panted, ‘We’ll do this tomorrow, shall we? So by the end of the holiday, we’ll be able to run 1K without feeling sick.’
‘I’m up for it if you are,’ Maxine said, but she wasn’t confident.
‘Then… when we’re back in London… we could go jogging every morning…’ Jo paused to catch her breath. They were almost at the steps.
Maxine burst out laughing. ‘Along with all those fit young things in shorts and earbuds?’
Jo put her hands on her hips. ‘We have to start somewhere.’
‘But—’
‘Shall we go back? I need coffee.’
‘All right.’ Maxine was still panting as Jo jogged along the beach, filled with new energy. Taking three more gulps to help with her oxygen debt, Maxine staggered after her. Her legs were already like rubber. Then her heart sank.
In the distance two joggers were approaching. One was wearing loose shorts. The other had cycling shorts on. They were both running as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Somehow Maxine caught up with Jo and said, ‘This is embarrassing.’
‘What is?’ Jo screwed up her eyes. ‘Oh no – is that who I think it is?’
‘Whenever I’m on the beach, all panting and sweaty, Manu and Théo jog by like Olympic athletes and I feel rubbish.’
‘I’m not having that,’ Jo said determinedly.
There was still some distance to go until they reached the cottage. Avoiding the two men would be impossible. Maxine and Jo were both red-faced, perspiring like horses.
‘Let’s pretend we haven’t seen them. Copy me.’ Jo lifted one arm in the air, then the other one.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Beach yoga.’ Jo swept her arms down in an attempt to touch her toes. ‘Oof – I can’t get past my knees.’
‘Let’s just go back to the cottage.’
‘And look like the two most unfit women in the world? No way.’ Jo attempted a lunge. She looked like a duck. ‘Come on – do the warrior pose.’
‘The what?’
‘Warrior – we’re warrior women.’ Jo threw out an arm as Manu and Théo drew level, smiling politely.
Théo said, ‘Are you out for a morning jog?’
‘Yes. And we’re doing yoga.’ Jo did a little pirouette. Then she stuck one foot against the opposite knee, threw her arms in the air and almost toppled. ‘How far do you usually run in the morning?’
‘The beach is three kilometres long, so we just go up and back,’ Manu said.
‘Oh – just a short run, then,’ Jo said lightly. Maxine shot her a warning look.
‘How far are you going?’ Théo asked.
‘The same. 6K. But we’ve been already,’ Jo said breezily. ‘We’re nearly home. I just thought we’d do a few stretches to wind down.’ She touched her toes again to prove her point and stopped just past her knees, holding her back. ‘Does Fliss go running with you?’
‘Quite often,’ Théo said. ‘She started last summer and she’s very fit now.’
‘There’s hope for me yet,’ Maxine said under her breath.
‘So…’ Manu looked from Jo to Maxine. ‘We’re having dinner tomorrow night.’
‘To christen our new kitchen,’ Théo added.
‘It was Fliss’s idea, of course – and we’d like you both to come,’ Manu said hopefully.
‘And J-F.’ Théo spoke to Maxine. ‘Will you invite him or shall I?’
‘Leave it with me.’ Maxine still hadn’t got her breath back.
‘Well, we’d better get on. We don’t want our muscles seizing up.’ Jo pretended to shiver. ‘Nice to see you both and – thanks for the invite.’
‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ Maxine said.
Jo had already taken off at a spurt, bringing up her knees smartly as she jogged away. She called over her shoulder, ‘Enjoy your run.’
It took an effort for Maxine to catch her up. They had reached the edge of the beach. The cottage was just across the road.
‘That was impressive – where did you find all that energy?’ Maxine was panting again.
‘I wasn’t having anyone think we weren’t fit as butcher’s dogs.’ Jo blew out hot air. ‘That last bit almost killed me.’
‘So are we on for a run tomorrow?’
‘Too right. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What Fliss can do, so can I,’ Jo said. ‘Come on – there’s a coffee with our names on it.’
Back at the cottage, Maxine made several phone calls. Then she explained her idea to Jo over breakfast.
‘I hope this is OK. I’m organising a crones’ circle.’
‘A what?’ Jo burst out laughing.
‘Fliss’s term for a group of women of a certain age. I’ve invited Shirl and Fliss, of course, and Béa – she’s a bit younger than we are, but she’s great fun.’
‘Does she speak English?’
‘Remarkably well – which is a good thing. Shirl speaks some French but Fliss’s is a bit patchy.’
Jo said, ‘She was very good at bargaining in Le Phare – what she didn’t know in French she said in English. The assistant understood exactly what she meant.’
‘I think Fliss is well known in Le Phare,’ Maxine said with a grin.
‘So – we’re all meeting here tonight?’
‘I’m going to get some nibbles and—’
‘Oh, a girls’ night in.’ The penny dropped. ‘That’s brilliant, Max. Let’s go to the supermarket and buy bread and olives and dips.’
‘And we’ll make pasta, and salad.’
‘And cocktails.’ Jo was really getting into the swing of things. ‘I can get some tequila and triple sec to make margaritas.’
‘Ah.’ Maxine took a breath. Jo had a reputation for cocktails. ‘I remember an evening around yours last Christmas. How many margaritas did we have?’
‘At least three each. It was an awful evening. I hated every minute.’ Jo groaned.
‘I enjoyed it. Terry and I had a really interesting chat about working-class women in literature.’
‘I noticed. I was so jealous.’
‘Why?’
‘I felt left out. I’m not half as bright as you and Terry. I even wondered if he had a thing for you.’
‘No. We just get on.’
‘I know that. Russ was making comments about you both being no fun. So I flirted with him because I didn’t know what else to do. That’s when it all started.’
‘I didn’t realise.’
Jo shrugged. ‘It’s history. Let’s forget Russ. And Terry. A girls’ night is exactly what I need.’
‘I hope so. I can’t wait for you to meet Béa.’
‘Absolutely.’ Jo reached for a mug of coffee.
‘What a social life we have. It’s better than being in London.
’ She flung her arms into the air with reckless abandon.
‘You know, Max, tonight, I’m going to be the person I really should be from now on.
Confident. Sophisticated. Outgoing. Wise. ’ She winked.
Jo was mixing margaritas as Fliss arrived with a clanking bag. Maxine looked up from where she was arranging carrot batons around a bowl of hummus.
Jo asked, ‘What have you got there, Fliss?’
Fliss was completely overdressed in an elegant Paris frock with a tulip print and green high-heeled pumps. She lifted out a bottle of vodka. ‘We’re having Viking’s Testicles.’
Jo didn’t miss a beat. ‘Count me in for a pair of those.’
‘Vodka, pineapple juice, champagne.’ Fliss sashayed into the kitchen. ‘Ooh, and you’ve got margaritas. I hope I don’t disgrace myself.’ She winked at Maxine. ‘I’m joking, darling – I’m a beacon of sobriety nowadays.’ Maxine looked dubious, so Fliss added, ‘Besides – we’re here to support Béa.’
‘Why? Does she drink like a fish?’ Jo asked.
‘No, she’s menopausal and has marriage problems. She’s in need of her sisters for support,’ Fliss explained.
‘Aren’t we all?’ Jo muttered.
‘She’s had a few bruises, on her hand, another on her shoulder.’ Maxine felt troubled. ‘I hope her husband’s not throwing his weight about.’
‘If he is, we’ll find out and put a stop to it,’ Fliss said grimly. She popped a champagne cork. ‘Here – try a Viking’s Testicle, darling.’ She passed Jo a glass.
Jo gulped a mouthful. ‘Mmm. Nice.’
Maxine sipped her drink. ‘Very refreshing.’
‘I’m sure Viking women would agree,’ Fliss quipped as there was a rap at the door.
‘That’ll be Shirl,’ Fliss said.
‘How do you know?’ Jo asked.
‘Because she’s on time. Béa won’t be.’ Fliss rushed into the living room and opened the door. There was a chorus of squeals, then Shirl appeared, carrying two shopping bags. Fliss beamed. ‘I hope Shirl’s brought half of Joel’s wine stock.’
Shirl lifted one basket. ‘Just a couple of bottles of red. And plenty of soft drinks. Some Jamaican Sexy Juice for when we want to take a break from alcohol.’
‘Take a break? That’s not happening.’ Jo was halfway through her cocktail.
Shirl rolled her eyes. ‘And I made some curry and rice.’
‘I love a curry,’ Jo said.
Maxine smiled. Not long ago Jo had dined at Ploussard and said she didn’t like spice much. She was changing. The magic of Brittany had touched her soul.
The small table was crammed with food and drink. Maxine said, ‘Now all we need is Béa.’
Fliss stuffed a cocktail glass into Shirl’s hand. Shirl took a sip. ‘Oh, I need this.’
‘Was it a hard day?’ Maxine asked.
‘Every day is hard now, leading up to the wedding.’
Fliss turned to Jo. ‘Shirl’s daughter is marrying the gorgeous Bastien next weekend.’
‘How lovely,’ Jo said.
‘You must come – it’s a community event. There’s going to be a big feast at Le Shack afterwards,’ Shirl said with a warm smile. ‘That’s why Joel and I are so stressed. All the preparations are piling up – and Gemma’s fretting about her veil.’
‘It’ll all be wonderful, darling,’ Fliss soothed.
‘I need tonight off though – with my girlfriends,’ Shirl said. ‘Joel’s worn out – he’s lying on the couch, listening to rock music with a zero beer.’
‘Isn’t Le Shack open?’ Maxine asked.
‘It is. Joel’s taken on Rémy and a new girl to wait on tables and an extra chef to help out. Business is good and it will get busier. I told him that life was too short to be working all hours. We both need down time.’
‘And this is our down time. Cheers, girls. To a successful crones’ circle,’ Fliss said, lifting her glass.
‘Crones,’ Jo spluttered as she took her first gulp.
‘Béa’s late,’ Maxine said.
‘We should dive in – then she’ll turn up,’ Jo suggested.
‘My thoughts exactly.’ Fliss helped herself to a carrot baton and hummus. ‘Right – the burning question is, do I have a testicle or a margarita?’