She was relieved to feel, however, that Mandy was different. The relaxation of her body beneath Angie’s hands was palpable. Despite her initial reluctance, it quickly became apparent that Mandy was going to submit herself entirely. Angie loved this part of her job, knowing that she had spoken to a part of someone that had, until then, been locked away; that she had released something inside them that even they didn’t know was there.
She worked steadily, keeping up a commentary on what she was doing so that Mandy could relax still further into the treatment. By the time Angie had finished she knew both that some good had been done and that Mandy would be booking another appointment. By the time she struck the singing bowl again to signal the end of the treatment, Mandy was almost purring.
‘Now,’ whispered Angie, ‘you just stay there for a few moments whilst you recentre yourself. I’ll just be over there.’
Ideally, she would have a separate treatment room where she could leave the client to recover, but this was a one-bedroom flat and she wasn’t about to give up her own inner sanctum to her clients. As it was, the treatment bed was set up in the middle of the lounge and she tried to disguise this by keeping her personal detritus to a minimum （no mean feat for Angie）， and with the strategic use of throws.
Mandy came back to herself relatively quickly, and then sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around her torso as if defending herself from whatever power had just taken hold of her.
‘How was the treatment?’ asked Angie. ‘Were you aware of anything that you don’t normally feel, not that that’s necessary, but sometimes clients do say . . .’ She stopped talking. She needed to catch herself before she did this – lead her clients down a path that would allow them to criticise her – but this time there was nothing to worry about. Mandy was gushing.
‘That was amazing,’ she said breathlessly, her eyes shining. ‘I don’t know how to describe it. It was like I felt really warm, right here.’ She pointed enthusiastically at her core. ‘And then really cold. And my legs kept tingling. Is that normal, tingling legs? I practically melted into the table. I’m sorry I was so jumpy beforehand. I just had no idea what to expect but that . . . that was wonderful.’
Angie beamed, but she wasn’t about to get lost in the praise. This was a business. She had to keep her focus. ‘And so, shall we book you in for next week? Maybe we can move forward to me placing my hands on you, through your clothes I mean,’ she added cautiously, but there was no need. Mandy was nodding vigorously as if she would be happy to be treated stark naked if that was what Angie suggested.
Money changed hands, an appointment fixed for the following week and Mandy appeared to float down the stairs and out into the street beyond, closing the door gently behind her. Another satisfied customer.
Angie began to redress the treatment bed for her next client. There were just the two today, but Mrs Meehan had been coming for a while and always booked a double session. The three appointments were enough to just about keep the wolf from the door. She was going to have to find something else, though. Living hand to mouth like this was manageable, but she had no savings and no way of improving her lot. She had been one step away from the street before, but she wasn’t risking that happening again – not if she could help it.
17
Jax was coming to visit and there was a lightness in Angie’s chest that threatened to bubble out into gleeful giggles and whoops, which wasn’t that convenient in a holistic treatment room. It had been more than three months since she had last seen him, and six months the time before that. Theirs wasn’t what you might call a conventional relationship. Living at opposite ends of the country and in an impecunious state for much of the time meant that days spent together were rare and precious. But they did what they could and so far, it seemed to be working out okay.
Angie had never been in love, and she was reluctant to label her feelings for Jax in these terms. Her life had shown her that love was for the weak, for those who lacked imagination, for misguided seekers of the ‘happy ever after’。 None of these terms could be applied to her. Being dependent on another person had never worked out that well for her. The last time it had happened she had been ten and the person had been her mother, but she had quickly discovered that she was much better off fending for herself. If she didn’t rely on anyone else then no one could let her down. And no one could hurt her, either. She’d been hurt enough. She wasn’t open for any more heartache.