Always Something There to Remind Me (2 page)

I sat in a reclining armchair, and Max positioned himself on a stool facing me. An anglepoise lamp stood on a coffee table and he adjusted its position until it was pointing straight at me. I turned my face away from the glare.

‘Try not to close your eyes,’ he said. ‘At least, not yet.’ He reached across and turned my head back towards him and the light. The physical contact made me nervous and I clutched my phone even tighter. Des was outside and he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.

Max produced the obligatory watch and chain from his jacket pocket and held it in front of my face. Its highly polished surface sparkled as it swung gently, catching the light.

‘What is it that you fear?’

‘Flying,’ I replied. ‘Everyone I know can just get on a plane and go somewhere, but I can’t bear the thought of it. I get sick at the very idea.’

‘Look into my eyes, Lydia, and relax.’ Max’s voice was … well … hypnotic, I suppose, and despite my nerves, I soon found myself drifting off as he spoke. ‘I want you to imagine you are in a peaceful place. Think about the most relaxing and happy location you know …’

I closed my eyes and I was there
… a warm sea breeze caressed my face as I lay on the sunlounger. My happy place was Diano Marina, on Italy’s Riviera of Flowers. I was on the roof terrace of the hotel, alone; the others were at the beach.

‘Are you there, in your happy place?’ He had such a soothing voice, it was impossible not to relax. I nodded slowly and snuggled deeper into the chair. ‘Can you describe it for me? What do you see?’

‘Acres of blue sky and golden sunlight.’

‘And what are you doing?’

‘Sunbathing and daydreaming.’

‘That’s great, Lydia. Look at the sky for me. What do you see there?’

‘A few seagulls, circling overhead.’ I smiled as a thought struck me. ‘It’s almost lunchtime and they know it. It’s Italy – there’ll be pizza somewhere soon.’

‘Indeed there will. What will the birds do then?’

‘They’ll swoop down and try to steal it, like they always do.’ I yawned. I could feel the heat of the sun and wondered if I should be applying more lotion.

‘Focus your attention on one of the gulls. Can you do that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Now, it’s circling above you and coming down. It’s perching on the guard rail. Can you see it there?’

I nodded as I looked at the huge bird. It was eyeing me curiously, but it made no attempt to move. Max droned on, giving me instructions.

‘Walk over to the guard rail and make friends with the bird. There’s a cracker on the table; feed it to him.’

I rose from the sunbed and picked up the cracker. I walked slowly towards the gull, anxious not to spook him. I offered the cracker to the bird at arm’s length. He cocked his head to one side and then reached out and took it, oh so gently, and hopped down to eat it at my feet.

‘Think yourself small, Lydia. You are shrinking, down, down, down in size.’

I was tiny, standing eye-to-eye with the gull; it had now finished eating and was looking at me intently. For a minute I thought it was going to have me for dessert!

‘Don’t be afraid, Lydia. He’s not going to hurt you. See – he’s waiting for you to climb onto his back.’

The gull sat down! I don’t know if that’s the right term to use for when a bird’s legs disappear underneath it and it sort of rests, but that’s what it looked like. I did as I was instructed and hauled myself onto his back. It was surprisingly comfortable. I could hear Max telling me not to be afraid; to relax and tell him what was happening. It was hard to speak at first as my feathered friend took off gracefully and soared into the sky with me on board! We dipped a little and turned right, heading towards the mountains.

‘I’m flying!’ I managed to get the words out at last. ‘I’m sitting on the back of a seagull and flying towards the mountains. Oh my God! I’m actually flying!’

‘You’re not afraid are you, Lydia?’

‘Not at all!’ I surprised myself with that statement. ‘It’s wonderful; I could stay up here for ever.’

I reached forward and patted the head of my seagull. ‘Thank you, sweetheart! Thank you!’ For several minutes we swooped and glided, then the gull turned back towards the town. I could see the beach on the right, far below us, and we started a gentle descent as the hotel came into view up ahead on the left. That was when it all went horribly wrong! The sky was darkening rapidly as we neared the rooftop and then …

The explosion shattered the trance and I sat bolt upright in the chair and shrieked.

‘We’re going to crash! We’re going to crash!’ Max jumped up from his stool and came to calm me down. He sat on the arm of the chair and took my hand.

My thumb, acting independently, pushed the speed-dial button on my phone and through my sobs I could hear Des shouting, ‘I’m coming in!’

Max stroked my hand. ‘It’s a thunderstorm, that’s all. Nothing to be afraid of.’

I felt like an idiot as I came fully to my senses and realised that the rain was lashing against the window and periodic flashes of lightning were illuminating the rather overgrown garden.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Mesmero …’ I began, taking a deep breath to control myself. The door burst open at that moment. Max leapt to his feet and turned to face the intruder just in time for his nose to collide with Des’s fist. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, howling in agony and holding his cravat over his nose which was bleeding profusely. Des stepped around him and came to my side.

‘Are you OK, Lyd? What happened? Should we call the police?’

Fortunately for all of us, Max Mesmero’s nose wasn’t broken and he decided not to press charges, as long as I agreed to pay for the damage done to his front door when Des broke in.

So I left his house fifty quid poorer and still terrified of flying.

Chapter 3: Stars on Ice

I hate Wednesdays. I used to think it was because Wednesday is as far from last weekend as it is from the next one. That may well have been true once upon a time, but nowadays the weekends aren’t that great either. Whatever the reason, I was having an attack of the usual Wednesday blues when Trudi called round after work.

Trudi and I go way back. We were at school together a hundred years ago, or so it seems. The boxes I was rummaging through were full of shared memories and proved to be a fine source of entertainment.

‘I can’t believe you’ve still got all this stuff!’ She flicked through the rough book that was on the coffee table, stopping at the list. ‘Ah, there it is! I threw mine out years ago.’

‘I’d forgotten you had one too.’

‘Oh yes! We wrote them together, one wet lunchtime when we had to sit in the library.’

It was coming back to me now. ‘Yours was much more sensible than mine, though. All about passing exams and earning loads of money.’ I laughed. ‘Actually, you did pretty well on both of those, didn’t you?’

‘Your exam results were better than mine, and the money never seemed to matter to you.’

‘No, I don’t suppose it did much. I just wanted to be happy …’

‘It’s never too late, Lyd. Now you’ve found your list again, you can make it all happen.’

‘That’s what Des said.’

She squealed with amusement then, as she picked up a copy of
Go Girl!
, the magazine I’d been addicted to thirty years ago.

‘Josh Greenwood!’ she shrieked. ‘You still have all the pictures of him! You were totally obsessed.’ She leafed through the pile of battered posters on the coffee table. ‘So what are you going to do with them? eBay?’

I stared at her in amazement. ‘How can you even think it? I could never part with them. He’s still on my “most wanted” list.’ I smoothed the creases out of an ancient picture, cut from a magazine so long ago. It had always been my favourite and for years it had occupied the place of honour on my bedroom wall, right where it would catch my eye as soon as I woke up in the morning, fresh from dreaming about him! Glossy, black hair framed a perfect face with brown eyes to die for, dramatically outlined with black eyeliner. His dark shirt was open to the waist revealing the band’s name, ‘Luvsik Kitten’, tattooed above his heart. How my teenage hormones used to race! Trudi studied the picture with me.

‘Hmm! He was pretty, I suppose, but he was never my type,’ she said.

‘I seem to remember you always liked older men.’

‘Cary Grant and Frank Sinatra, that’s right. Real men.’

‘You sound like my mother sometimes!’ I laughed.

‘So how’s it going with your list? Are you ready to fly around the world yet?’

‘Not quite. The hypnosis thing didn’t work out. I don’t want to talk about it.’

But of course, an hour later, after we’d shared a bottle of wine, I told her all about it.

‘I’d love to have been there,’ she said, hardly able to contain her giggles. ‘I can just imagine it!’

‘I bet you can’t. I felt such an idiot. Scared of a thunderstorm, and then Des rushing in like some kind of superhero and punching the guy …’

‘That’s rather sweet really, having your own personal bodyguard. Anyway, when am I going to meet your Des?’

I felt a blush rising from the base of my neck, but I didn’t really know why. ‘He’s not
my
Des; he’s just … Des, and I suppose you can meet him any time you like.’

‘OK, so he’s not your Des, but I’d still like to meet him. Bring him over tomorrow night.’

‘We can’t come tomorrow. It’s our writing group on Thursdays.’

‘OK, the pub a week on Saturday?’

‘Maybe. I’ll ask him. Anyway, I’ve given up on the flying for now.’

‘So what’s next?’ She was looking at the list. ‘Skating?’

‘I suppose so, but that’s even scarier than flying.’

‘It’s easy. I’ll teach you. We can start on Monday after work if you like.’

Oh dear, I’d be lucky to get out of this without a few broken bones.

* * * * *

Trudi was waiting for me in the car park at the Ice Cube, her skates slung around her shoulders. She looked me up and down as I got out of the car.

‘I’m glad you took my advice about the leggings.’

‘I hate the things. They make me look huge. I wish I’d worn jeans.’

‘Jeans get damp when you fall and then they’re too heavy to move about in.’

‘You’re not exactly inspiring me here.’

‘Everyone falls over sometimes, especially beginners.’

Standing up in skates was a nightmare. For the first time in my life I realised why it takes babies so long to learn to walk. I don’t think I’d ever considered it before. My ankles didn’t want to co-operate at all and kept trying to bend at angles they weren’t designed for, and that was before I got onto the ice.

‘This is never going to work,’ I moaned as I lurched towards the barrier and leaned against it. I don’t think I can even make it to the ice.’

‘Of course you can. It gets easier.’

Clinging onto the barrier for dear life I followed Trudi towards the opening that led onto the rink, aware that the place was full of future Olympic stars practising their routines. Well, it seemed that way to me, anyway. Loud music blared out all around, and I watched in awe as people glided effortlessly across the ice. Trudi was halfway around and I hadn’t even stepped out.

How hard can it be?
I thought, as a little girl of about seven years old flew past me. I put one foot forward, then the other, but somehow my hand was still welded to the rail. I was sure everyone was watching me, and I was on the verge of retreating when Trudi completed her circuit and stopped in front of me.

‘Take my hand,’ she yelled, above the noise of the music. I reached out for her and hesitantly let go of my support. All was well, for precisely five seconds, until my brain realised what was happening, then my feet took off in opposite directions and my backside made contact with the ice for the first of many scheduled encounters. As I struggled to my feet, aided by Trudi and some passing teenagers, the music changed and I tottered over to the barrier again to the unmistakable strains of Ravel’s
Bolero
.

Eat your heart out, Jayne Torvill. Given another ten years I might just give you a little competition.
I laughed at the idea and straightened up. The dream would have to be modified a little – instead of dancing on ice, I’d have to settle for walking on ice. After all, it was my dream so I could do what I liked with it!

‘If at first you don’t succeed …’ I muttered, scrutinising the movements of the other skaters. Trudi was chatting to a man nearby; flirting, I thought, and leaving me to struggle alone, but then they came over to me.

‘Lyd, this is Richard. He works here,’ she said.

‘Uh?’ I grunted as I hauled myself upright again. My feet just couldn’t get a grip. Richard and Trudi stood either side of me and took a hand each. Richard smiled and I looked at him for the first time. He was a mere boy of about thirty, with floppy, blond hair and wire-framed glasses.

‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘you’re going to do this. Now, place your feet further apart to distribute the weight more evenly and bend your knees slightly, then let your thighs take the strain. Lean forward a bit.’

I did as I was told and felt a little more balanced and at ease, despite the embarrassment of hearing a young man talk about weight and thighs.

‘Feel better?’ Trudi asked.

I nodded and forced a smile. Richard squeezed my hand lightly as a new tune started to play – the theme from
Love Story
.

‘OK, we’re going to do all the work to begin with. Just relax and don’t move your feet.’

That seemed strange, but they were the experts. We started to move, or rather they were moving and I was being pulled along between them. It felt good to be gliding with everyone else and I even found myself leaning in the right direction when we took the curves.

We made it all the way back to our starting point and Richard took me around again, without Trudi this time. His right arm was around my waist and he held my left hand in his.

‘Push forward with your right foot, take the weight on your thigh, and then bring the left foot forward the same way. It’s just like being on a scooter.’ He guided me, telling me when to make my moves and we almost managed another circuit before I lost my footing again and brought us both crashing down in a heap. His glasses flew off and, as he helped me to get up, I felt them crunch beneath the blade of my skate.