Читать книгу A Greek Affair - Linn Halton B. - Страница 10

It’s the start of week two of the new regime and I’ve made two new discoveries, already. Firstly, that living in PJs isn’t quite me and the postman was beginning to wonder what was going on. One morning when I also happened to be having a particularly bad hair day, he asked me if I was feeling any better! The other discovery is that sitting in the same position for hours on end isn’t good for you. Even if you can avoid the snacks and sugary drinks, your body starts to rebel. I’ve invested in some track suits and after being caught lusting over a fitness tracker, Mum and Dad turned up at the weekend with two neatly wrapped little parcels. Mine was a Vivofit with a gorgeous red strap and Rosie’s present was a watch.

‘Just a little congratulatory gift,’ Dad said, as we opened the boxes.

I couldn’t protest, but it did bring a tear to my eye as we had a group hug.

Suddenly, my mobile kicks into life and I see that it’s Sally.

‘Morning. I’ve just retweeted you and shared your latest post,’ I inform her.

‘Thanks, I’m running behind this morning. I’ll be online shortly to reciprocate. I’ve only just had time to glance at the free paper. Did you know there’s an article about you?’

I gulp. ‘No. What, in Saturday’s paper?’

‘Yes. It’s a nice little article, actually. Well done, you! Anyway, must make a start but I have that Monday morning feeling. Maybe I need a little sugar fix.’

‘Well, I’ve just done my first walk of the day and am about to make a chamomile tea.’

Sally groans. ‘Okay. Point taken. It’s mind over matter and I’ll have a cup of tea instead. You’re beginning to sound like a health nut, but I do hope some of it rubs off on me. I need to get back to the gym, that’s for sure. Catch you later.’

I rummage around in the sitting room for the paper and when I can’t find it, I ring Mum.

‘Only me. Do you have a copy of the local paper? I can’t find ours and Sally says there’s something in there about the award.’ I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

‘Oh, that will be Keith. Dad said he bumped into him in the supermarket. He’s one of their reporters and Dad told him all about your success. Roger?’ Mum calls out to Dad and I wince, as she hasn’t pulled the phone away from her mouth. ‘Leah’s on the phone. She says Roger did an article on her – what fun!’

Fun?

‘Um … Mum, can you find it for me? What exactly did Dad say?’

‘Only how proud we were that you’d won an award. He’s found the paper. Oh, my!’

It’s a positive exclamation but a chill runs down my back.

‘Gosh, there’s even a photo of you. How wonderful! Roger, ask next door if they’ll let us have their copy. I’m going to frame this one and we need a copy for Leah to show Rosie.’

I feel like a bystander.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll go online to read it. Must go.’

‘Don’t forget you’re both here for dinner on Wednesday night. I’m making spaghetti bolognaise.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for anything.’

My phone is already nestled between my shoulder and my chin, as I Google the paper’s website.

It’s probably a quarter of a page in total judging by the length of it and the headline is Leah Castelli Brings Home a Top Travel Award. I breathe out a small sigh of relief. Clearly this is based on the press release circulated by the Traveller Abroad publicity people and not merely the gushy words of a proud father. It’s all good publicity, just rather unexpected.

It’s time to head out for my second walk of the day and when I leave the house my head is buzzing. I up the pace a little, gradually calming down, and my thoughts return to the latest changes I’m making to the website. Then inspiration strikes and I come up with a way of cramming in more sponsored ads by including them in posts. I want the website itself to look informative, rather than to be covered with adverts and this solution would solve that problem.

Walking might be healthy but it’s also uninterrupted thinking and planning time.

~

At gym club, I watch enthralled as Rosie executes a perfect back-flip. She lands with apparent ease and both feet planted firmly on the ground. Throwing up her arms, she arches her back and maintains a dignified pose. Her face is beaming.

‘Good work, Rosie. Nicely done.’ Miriam Peterson’s approval is enough to make Rosie’s cheeks glow.

That was certainly a shining example of a perfect landing but every time I watch her perform my stomach does its own involuntary flip.

Miriam waves out to me and heads across the mats in my direction. Even so, her eyes are everywhere and she doesn’t miss a thing.

‘Liesel, relax those shoulders!’ Her voice booms out across the studio floor.

‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ Miriam says, with a gush. ‘I read the article and that’s quite something.’

I can feel my cheeks reddening, as this has caught me off–guard.

‘Yes, it was a bit of a surprise, though.’

‘Ah, well, it’s nice to have an interesting hobby and all those free holidays. I’m envious!’

I try not to frown.

‘It’s a bit more than a hobby,’ I add, but my voice begins to trail off.

‘A hobby with benefits,’ Miriam laughs, totally missing the point.

‘It is very hard work, actually.’

Why am I feeling so defensive? Miriam doesn’t understand any more about my industry, than I do about hers.

‘Nice, though. Guess you’ll be flying here, there and everywhere, now.’ It’s dismissive and her tone is beginning to irritate me.

‘I only blog about places I’m happy to endorse one hundred per cent. Being a critic isn’t always easy but it’s gratifying when a client invites me back after making improvements.’

Even her smile is now annoying me; it’s patronising.

‘You get a second trip? Amazing. And all those freebies for you and Rosie to test. I bet you never have to buy anything holiday-related.’

I give up.

‘Rarely,’ I concede, deciding it’s simply better to agree and change the subject. ‘That was a perfect back-flip Rosie performed there.’

‘If she worked harder, she’d make the team.’ Miriam’s gaze doesn’t falter and I can see she feels I don’t push Rosie hard enough. But Rosie is happy attending two classes a week and taking part in demonstrations; the fact that she isn’t interested in competing is entirely her own decision.

And that’s where Miriam and I differ so greatly. You can’t force someone into doing something and I’m not going to put pressure on Rosie for simply wanting to take part for the sheer fun of it. Much to the annoyance of the sometimes scary Miriam Peterson.