Page 28 of Safe Hands

“Yes, I know.”

Beth waved away the reassurance, though her shoulders stayed tight. She took a gulp of her drink.

“So,” she said, “how did it go with the gruesome twosome? Have they turned you into an influencer yet?”

Carly paused.

The question on her mind had nothing to do with Instagram.

“Do you think people can change?”

Beth lowered her glass. The shift in tone clearly registered, because her expression sharpened.

“I suppose, as an ex-teacher, I have to believe they can,” she said, turning the glass in her hand. “But I’m cautious. I want proof. Not just words. Cold, hard actions.”

Cold, hard actions.

Carly knew all about those. Words were cheap; Samantha had plenty of them. And while Carly still didn’t know whether Lauren was trustworthy, she was certain of one thing: the business had to work. For her father. For Beth. For the staff. For all of them.

If Lauren’s plan could help, even a little, Carly owed it to the gym to try.

11

Lauren

Lauren paced the perimeter of her windowless treatment room.

Three steps forward, turn, three steps back.

The walls seemed to have shrunk even further since last Monday, and the air smelled faintly of lavender oil and anxiety. This time, though, escape was not an option.

A sharp rap on the door broke the silence. Lauren jumped, dislodging her heart from her throat, and yanked the door open.

Paige stood in the corridor, a Tesco carrier bag straining in her hand.

“Supplies,” Paige said, lifting the bag to reveal a haul of tinned food.

Lauren beckoned her inside, checking the hallway for witnesses before shutting the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Rude. That’s the second time you’ve greeted me with hostility recently. Keep it up, and I’ll take it personally. Especially after I carried this lot.”

“Sorry.” Lauren rubbed her face, then took the carrier bag and dumped it in the corner. “I’m on edge. Do you want to sit?”

Tinned tomatoes. Tuna. Chickpeas, which Lauren had never bought in her life. Paige had opened a cupboard at some point and drawn her own conclusions, and Lauren decided not to mention it, because mentioning it would mean talking about how little was in there.

“So, these are your new digs,” Paige said. She ignored the chair, brushing a hand along the massage table as she surveyed the room. Not that there was much to see. It was a windowless box with an anatomical poster peeling at one corner. “Bit small. Barely room to swing a cat.”

“Good job I’m not planning on swinging any cats, then.”

“No. Just your boss.”

Lauren stopped dead. “What?”

“Carly. Your boss.” Paige lowered herself onto the swivel chair. “I saw her at reception. I’m just saying, she looks exactly your type. Blonde, sporty, scary. No wonder you were worried about impressing her. She’s the ultimate Spice Girl, and we both know how you secretly felt about them back in the day.”

“Not helpful. First, Carly isn’t my boss; she’s my landlord. Second, dating the woman who holds my lease would be a terrible career move. And third, even if she were into women, she’d never look twice at me.”

“How do you know she’s not into women? And how is it a bad decision? Seems like a great way to get a leg up. As well as over.”