AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Fine by me,’ I said, blushing and hoping my zit hadn’t put him off his lamb couscous.
Jeremy reached over for my tablet, and his back gave an almighty crack. He grimaced, straightening up in his chair.
‘Gosh, that sounded painful. Are you all right?’ I asked.
He tilted his head from side to side, wincing. ‘Yes ... just my spine clicking back into place—I had a hard workout last night,’ he replied with a rueful chuckle.
I didn’t say anything, my mind whirring as the inference sunk in. That sounded awfully like he’d been up all night bonking the woman I saw getting into his car! My fingers tightened around my fork, feeling frustrated and hurt. Without thinking, I said sharply, ‘You should stop doing that.’
Jeremy paused mid head tilt, and glanced at me. ‘What?’
I coughed and said quickly, ‘I mean, you should stop overdoing it at the gym. If you need a chiropractor, let me know. A friend of mine sees a good one.’
‘Oh, thanks. I might take you up on that.’ He grinned. ‘I’m getting too old for these hard workouts.’
I stabbed at a piece of chicken, stuffed it into my mouth, and quietly simmered. Seriously? What had he been doing with her to put his back out?
Jeremy rapidly read over my notes and tapped the screen. ‘There’s not as much information as I thought there would be. And aren’t there eight books?’
I swallowed some lettuce. ‘Yes, there are. But I’m still going through the eighth one.’
‘What is it?’
‘Ah, a memoir by a female smallpox survivor who had variola major.’
Jeremy’s eyebrows raised. ‘Sweet Jesus, really? Does it give much detail?’
‘Yes, she recounts her experience of contracting the disease early on in the book.’
‘I should definitely read it then.’
I squirmed hearing him say that. If my suspicions were correct about where Mercy’s memoir was headed concerning Jasper, I didn’t particularly want Jeremy reading it. It was too close to home, and I wanted to protect her (well ... myself).
‘That’s not necessary,’ I said quickly. ‘You’re so busy with your lecturing, and that’s what I’m here for. I’ll make sure you have the pertinent bits for your book.’ And leave out anything more sensitive.
My diversion tactic worked. Jeremy nodded. ‘OK, that might be best. I have got a full schedule at the moment.’
He passed my tablet back, glanced at me, and, pointing at his chin, said, ‘Ah, you might want to ...’
I dabbed at my chin with a napkin, thinking I had dripped mayo on it. But when it came away soaked in watery pus, I realised in horror—the volcano had erupted!
***
Isabel clapped her hands loudly, and I jumped. By the surprised looks on the faces of the other women around the table, I wasn’t the only one who had been startled. I didn’t realise my easy-going friend ran such a tight ship. Then again, this was the first time I’d been to her art therapy class at the community centre, and people were always different in a work environment.
After the disastrous pimple-exploding incident in Jeremy’s office, I’d slunk to the ladies’ and had a self-pitying sob in a cubicle about the sorry state of my life. In desperation, I’d messaged Isabel, and she’d fitted me into the class after work. So far, it had been drinking cups of tea and eating biscuits, but it appeared we were about to get down to business.
‘Right, ladies,’ she said in a no-nonsense tone as the chatter ceased. ‘Let’s get started. You each have a ball of clay that you’re free to mould into whatever shape you please. But the object you make should represent the person who has hurt you and encompass your pain. There are various tools in the jars if you need them for rolling, cutting, and texturing.’
A woman tentatively raised her hand. ‘Does what we create have to look ... good?’
Isabel shook her head. ‘As long as you know what the object represents, it doesn’t have to look professional. I’m not expecting any budding Michelangelas.’
A few women tittered at that. ‘Don’t you mean Michelangelos?’ asked one.
‘No,’ said Isabella firmly. ‘This is a man-free zone. In here, it’s women only.’
Wow, OK, this could be interesting. I didn’t realise she was such a staunch feminist.
