The Things You Didn't See(81)
Daniel tapped his client on her bright-blue thigh in congratulation, looked at his watch and then began a spontaneous round of applause, which neither of the women could join in without risking a fall. He untethered them, and the class was over, the women collecting their water bottles and snazzy sports bags, eyeing Daniel appreciatively as he exited.
Arriving in the reception area, he spotted Holly on the sofa. His features froze and his eyes turned steely, then as the receptionist told him she was here as a client, he adjusted his face to be more welcoming.
‘Hi, Holly. What a surprise to see you here – welcome to Samphire! How can I help you?’
He actually looked sincere, and she thought how easy it must be to trust this man.
Holly smiled sweetly, aware of the twitching ears of the receptionist. ‘It’s rather delicate, so if we could talk somewhere private . . .’
She saw him hesitate, and feared he was going to say no, despite the receptionist saying he had loads of spaces. ‘I’m very busy right now. Christmas is such a stressful time that my clients always like a bit more attention.’ As he said this, the two women from the class appeared, now with brushed manes and glossy lips, chatting together and looking curiously at Holly as they made their way to the juice fridge, and he called, ‘Try the new Christmas Samphire, girls – it’s got cinnamon and turmeric to help you get through the shopping madness!’
They both smiled, and keenly grabbed the snot-green bottles as though they contained the elixir of health.
‘I’d really appreciate just a little of your time,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve heard such good things about your cures.’
‘Then please come up to my office.’
Upstairs was no match for the luxurious ambience of the lower floor. The corridor was narrow and dark, paint peeled from the walls, the restroom door hung open, as did the door of a cleaning cupboard, revealing anti-bacterial sprays and tall rolls of paper. Daniel’s office was a room of similar size, barely large enough for the MDF desk he had wedged against the wall and the single kitchen stool. He appeared not to register the incongruity of this, and showed her into his office with the same flair as if he had managed to find a space on Murray Mound at Wimbledon.
‘Voilà! I’ll go get another chair. Would you like a juice?’
‘I’d like to try the Red Dragon, if I may.’
She wasn’t thirsty, but asking for a juice bought her a few minutes as he’d have to return downstairs to fetch it, and who could turn down the promise of emotional peace?
Once he’d gone, she looked around properly, surprised by the mess and clutter, when the man himself was so well groomed. It was like cracking open his handsome skull and peering inside to the ugliness within. Stacks of paper flooded the desk, old mugs bore tea stains on the porcelain, a calendar tacked to the wall had a mess of scribbles next to different dates: Flora, Gabby, Linda, Victoria & Dawn.
He was soon back, brandishing a bottle and a camping chair.
‘Red Dragon, my own secret recipe.’ He passed it to her, and as she took it, their fingers touched. She felt his need to keep control of this interview, as well as his underlying fear that he wouldn’t be able to.
‘Madame,’ he said, opening out the camping chair for her to sit on and perching on the desk.
‘Thanks.’ It had a low seat, so she was looking up at Daniel. ‘Looks like you’re in the middle of something?’
‘Ah, I’m playing catch-up. Most of this stuff just needs filing, and Katie’s been too busy on reception to sort it out. I’m getting ready for the end-of-year returns and all that nonsense.’
‘How’s the gym doing?’ she asked, opening and sipping her juice, waiting for the Red Dragon to kick in.
‘Woodbridge is a great town for a healing studio – lots of educated people who care about their health and their bodies.’
Holly involuntarily pulled her stomach in. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worked out, unless sex with Leif counted as aerobic exercise. The juice, though, was tasty and she could almost feel it doing her good.
‘And, of course, we offer far more here than exercise – there’s a whole host of alternative therapies. And the juices. Enjoying it?’
‘It’s delicious,’ she said, honestly.
‘This is just the start. When the Spa opens, we’ll offer a raw-food programme, tailored to specific needs. We’ll have more space, a better ambience . . . Think of all those people we’ll be able to help. I’m only scratching the surface at the moment.’
Daniel’s ambition sickened her: he was able to enthuse about it so soon after Maya’s death and Hector’s arrest. And none of it would be possible if Maya were alive – she’d have sold the farm to the Port Authority. Holly glanced again at his calendar, with its scattering of names. ‘Are your customers always women?’
‘It’s a female-only studio. My clients would feel inhibited if there were a man around. It’s a safe space for them.’
‘But you’re a man,’ Holly pointed out, taking another sip of her juice to hide her bemusement.
‘I’m a professional,’ he replied curtly, ‘so I don’t count.’
Holly thought back to his two smitten customers. Daniel counted very much, and he liked it that way: the only male in an exclusively female environment.