‘I suppose it’s the yoga that keeps you trim?’
‘Yeah, that and the amazing sex,’ she said, staring at me, while slowly opening her legs wide.
‘I wonder if I should do yoga,’ I said, trying hard to ignore her rather defiant crotch. ‘It… it might be good for me?’
‘Possibly?’ She finally pulled her knees together. ‘Older people do have to be careful though, Clare. I’d suggest you do lots of warm-ups to start those muscles, especially as you’re menopausal.’
‘I’m not,’ I snapped.
‘Oh, sorry, I just thought you must be.’
Was she being bitchy or just tactless?
‘I’m only forty-one, Ella,’ I said, discreetly wiping the sweat off the back of my neck, lest she thought I was having a hot flush.
‘Sorry, Clare, would you mind not talking?’
‘I understand,’ I said, still giving her the benefit of the doubt. ‘That’s why I sit here on my own each morning, so I can concentrate. No kids, and no patients.’ I smiled.
‘Exactly. I feel you,’ she said, still twisting her limbs. ‘I need to concentrate – and talking about how well your kids are doing at school, or how many beds you made in hospital last week, is distracting. Thanks for understanding.’
I couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said. Was she joking?
I looked back at her, and for a few moments there was no expression on her face. She meant it, and I wasn’t going to sit and take it.
‘Wow,’ I exclaimed.
‘What?’
‘That was a bit rude.’
She looked at me for a moment, like she was going to say something but then seemed to think better of it and instead her face went all wide-eyed. ‘OMG, Clare, I was just having a laugh with you. I didn’t offend you, did I?’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth in horror.
Was she really horrified at the thought of offending me or was she making fun of me? I would give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t mean to be nasty. ‘I just think sometimes perhaps you say things, and people don’t always get your meaning,’ I said gently. ‘What might seem funny to you doesn’t sound funny to everyone else – it just sounds rude.’
‘To you it does,’ she snapped, without looking at me. Perhaps I’d embarrassed her. I hadn’t meant to. But then she seemed to think better of it, and looking up, gave me a half-smile. ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’ She walked over to me, touching my shoulder.
I still wasn’t sure if she’d been joking, but Dan always said I took things to heart too much. Perhaps he was right. I needed to ‘woman up’。
‘I guess I just don’t have the same sense of humour as you,’ I conceded.
‘Yeah, you’ll need to get used to it, Clare.’ She went back to what she was doing, and standing with her back to me, said, ‘Because that’s who I am.’ Before I could respond, she called, ‘Joking!’
‘Not funny,’ I said, echoing her sing-song tone and returning to my book.
‘Hey Clare,’ she said, after a few minutes. ‘You can join me if you like, as long as you warm up first and don’t talk. I could help you do something about that tummy?’
I knew then Ella wasn’t suffering from a lack of tact, or a strange sense of humour, it was deliberate. ‘Thanks,’ I smiled through gritted teeth, ‘but I’m okay.’
‘Okay, I need quiet now,’ she said, and started making humming noises.
‘I need quiet too,’ I murmured, and went back to my book, but she didn’t respond. She appeared to be totally engrossed as she started waving her arms around, then threw her body into all kinds of positions. By now I was so distracted I abandoned my book and watched her.
‘I haven’t seen yoga like that before,’ I said, unable to resist commenting.
‘I don’t suppose you have, it’s only for the very flexible. I learned it when I lived in LA.’
‘LA. You lived in LA?’ I said, ignoring the implication that I wasn’t flexible. Well, I could hardly argue about that. ‘Gosh, you’ve fitted a lot into your life.’
She didn’t respond.
‘Sorry Ella… I know I keep asking questions.’ I forced a smile. ‘It’s just that… Well, you said your dad is a New Yorker, but I could have sworn you said he was Italian – from Sorrento?’
‘What did you say?’ she asked, staring right at me in what I felt was a threatening way.