‘Oh, goody,’ Amy deadpanned, jamming the brakes on far too hard. The 2CV coughed its disgust.
‘There, look, on the left – Delsey’s Gym. Told you I’d find it. There’s an underground car park round the corner. We made it, kiddo.’
‘Thank goodness,’ Amy breathed, as the 2CV bumped down the ramp into the underlit car park. ‘My will to live was seeping away.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Debbie teased.
‘Sorry.’
Yawning and stretching, they sat still for a few minutes, summoning the strength to heave themselves out and make a start on their mission.
Amy’s brain was buzzing. ‘Do you know what’s really weird about this whole trip, Debs?’
‘Um, the fact that neither of us have discussed this year’s Big Brother yet?’
‘No, not that …’
‘No? What about my unusual good manners in not using the words “Justin” and “bastard” in the same sentence since, oh, first thing this morning?’
Amy smiled. ‘I hadn’t thought of that one – yes, but the other weird thing about this trip is having no idea which pair of shoes went to which address.’
‘What? I hadn’t realised that!’ Debbie exclaimed.
‘All I’ve got are the buyers’ addresses, but no information on what they actually bought, so in here, for instance, could be my Jimmy Choos, or my walking boots, who knows?’
Debbie frowned. ‘Or could it be an old tin of toy soldiers Justin decided to sell while he was busy flogging stuff on eBay anyway?’
‘No way!’ Amy’s heart lurched. Was this a flaw in the plan? Swiftly she tried to push the notion away. ‘If Justin was selling toy soldiers on eBay he’d have a label file on his computer titled “Toy Soldier Addresses”. I’m certain of it.’
‘What a bundle of laughs life with that man must be,’ Debbie said – in such a low voice Amy wasn’t sure she picked her up properly.
‘Come on, we’ve got work to do.’
They clambered stiffly up a bright yellow-painted stairwell, four steep flights to the door marked ‘Reception’.
‘I feel fitter already,’ Debbie panted. ‘Come on, let’s do it.’
Amy, bracing herself, pushed open the swing door and the girls entered the gym.
Here goes: Operation ‘Best Foot Forward’ commences right now …
The dark-haired receptionist, who was talking on the phone in a language Amy didn’t recognise, briefly pressed the receiver to her chest and glanced at them. ‘Ah, hello! So nice to see you back again!’
Achingly tall. Beautiful. Foreign. Insincere. She lobbed them a toothy smile, omitting to involve her eyes in the gesture, before returning to the telephone conversation from which they had so thoughtlessly deflected her.
Behind the reception desk, a frosted glass door decreed ‘Private – Staff Only’, and to the left a sign pointed to the saunas and steam room. On the right a corridor led to the male and female changing rooms and the ladies’ and gents’ toilets, then beyond those the gym. Amy could hear the thrum of running machines from behind the double doors and, briefly, she thought of Justin. He loved his four-times-a-week workouts.
Huh, if the staff at his gym look like this specimen here, then no wonder – just look at that girl! You just can’t compete with Eastern European bone structure, and no mistake …
‘Aha!’ said Debbie, gesturing down the corridor. ‘Bathroom break! I’m bursting – won’t be a tick.’ And she bounded off towards the ladies’ room.
Amy stood and chewed her lip, feeling awkward, wishing Debbie hadn’t gone, trying to conjure up the mantra used by Jesminder in situations like this: ‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent!’ But this receptionist was so glacial, her cheekbones so sharp and her disregard of Amy so total that it was hard not to just apologise and run out.
Oh, for heaven’s sake – have a word with yourself, Marsh!
Amy was wondering where in Eastern Europe the ice-queen receptionist was from – could she even be Marta Kowalski, the very woman she was looking for? – when her eye fell upon a gigantic poster that took up the whole of the staff pinboard behind the desk.
NEWCASTLE POLISH SOCIETY
ANNUAL BALL AT THE MARBURY HOTEL THIS SATURDAY FORMAL DRESS CARRIAGES 3 A.M. DANCING TO THE ALFONS ALEKSANDER SWING BAND TICKETS FROM POLISH CENTRE OR MARTA OR IWONA KOWALSKI, DELSEY’S GYM, LOMBARD LANE, NEWCASTLE
She was close then. Excited, Amy took a step forward, only for the door to open behind her, and for Adonis to walk in. At least, if you asked a hundred women to describe their version of Adonis, then pooled all the images into a single big, blond, beefy hunk of love, it’s highly likely this is what you’d end up with. Amy gawped. She’d never seen such a ludicrously perfect specimen of muscly manhood and for some reason had to stifle an urge to bark with laughter.
Not my type at all, but if ever I need a wall built …
On seeing the man’s arrival, though, the receptionist hurled the phone down as though it had caught fire, and rushed across to fawn over him, practically knocking Amy over in her flight. They triple-kissed enthusiastically, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, exchanging greetings in Polish, but then, drawing apart, Adonis somehow found a moment to flick a brief, appraising glance in Amy’s direction.
‘So, then, beautiful, have you had a busy day?’ he asked the receptionist in heavily accented English. Then brazenly, he shot another, longer look at Amy before once again returning his full attention to the woman under his nose.
Amy’s skin prickled uncomfortably.
Huh, I know when I’ve been mentally undressed. And I bet he’s only speaking English to keep his options open.
‘As always,’ oozed the reply. ‘There is never time to … relax in this place; you know what I’m saying?’
She flicked her ponytail with her fingertips, then lasciviously licked her lips, laid a hand on her hip and bang! The right side of her body dropped until she stood in a provocative, thrusting pose that owed nothing to subtlety and absolutely everything to Marilyn Monroe.
Amy watched, anxiously chewing her fingernail, yet entranced by the display. I am receiving an award-winning lesson in shameless flirting – even Debbie would struggle to match this pair. Outstanding!
Just when Amy thought the heat couldn’t rise any higher, the staffroom door flew open, and an Amazonian blonde shot out and hurled herself over to where the other two stood. Practically pulling the receptionist off the man, she rubbed her hand provocatively down his arm and purred, in the same foreign accent, ‘Well, hallo, stranger!’
Adonis was loving it, Amy could tell. Both women had fit, athletic builds – it was clear that any spare time they had left after flirting was taken up working out in the gym.
‘So, what can I be doing for you this evening?’ the blonde woman lisped, her mouth about two inches from the man’s ear. ‘Come to arrange a little personal training, hmm?’
‘Hey!’ the receptionist barked. ‘It is me who is in charge tonight!’ She wriggled between the blonde