What goes around comes around (Lily’s Story) Read Online Free PDF

face it, you’d
need to eat if you were staying at home, so it won’t cost you a lot more.  Oh and
maybe a few quid towards fuel,” he adds as an afterthought.  He knows he has me,
and the smug grin on his face tells me he’s confident I can’t worm my way out.
    “Well, I don’t know,” I hedge, “it sounds okay, but let me
speak to Greg and I’ll let you know for sure when I come in again. When is it?”
I suddenly think to ask.
    “Great, brilliant!” Stuart says emphatically, as if I’ve already
confirmed my attendance.  He hands me a sponsorship form, telling me: “All the
details are on here.  You might as well make a start getting sponsors soon.  And
I wouldn’t bother trying to nobble anyone here – I’ve already cleaned up –
so you’ll have to try your other mates.”  I’m heartened by his assumption I have
other mates to “nobble”, as he puts it, as I quickly dart across the gym and into
the changing room before he can think of anything else. 
    I finally start to change out of my work clothes and get
ready to start my workout, but as I do I catch sight of my reflection in one of
the mirrors and groan.  A brilliant red line that will soon become a vivid purple
bruise marks the middle of my forehead where the door had hit me.  Days and
days of more embarrassment as I’ll be forced to explain what I’ve done to
myself once again lie ahead of me.  I sigh as I finish doing up my laces,
ignoring the throb of my head as I bend forward.
    At the beginning my workout, Stuart makes a point of finding
me again and informing me he had taken a quick look at my training regime and
adjusted it to help me prepare properly for the challenge.  I look at the card
and groan inwardly to see the increased resistance weights and gradients he’s
added to what was already a stretching programme as far as I’m concerned.
    “Oh, and I’ve found you a roommate too,” he calls over his
shoulder as he walks off to harass some other poor victim.
    “Sorry, what?” I ask, momentarily confused, before I realise
he meant for the walking trip. “Who?” I call after him, my anxiety about the
level of commitment he’s already assuming betrayed by my shrill tone. 
    If he hears my anxiety, he chooses to ignore it, calling back:
“Annie.  She’s over on the cross-trainer, if you want to introduce yourself.”  And
with that he’s gone again. 
    I look over to the cross-trainers and see a couple of women
who could possibly be Annie.  Summoning all my courage I walk over and
tentatively call: “Annie?” to the first lady, who looks to be in her fifties
with a plumpish figure like mine and dark hair.  She shakes her head and points
to a third lady further along the row that I hadn’t seen previously, as she’d
been hidden by the column.  I follow to where she pointed, only to be
confronted with a woman who could have easily been a model.  She’s like some
sort of glamazon, at least six feet tall, with dazzling red hair that falls in
perfect ringlets, where it has escaped its ponytail around her equally
perfectly proportioned face.  Think Elle McPherson with red hair.  She basically
embodies almost everything I’m not , I despair inwardly. 
    She looks up and catches me staring at her, at which point
her face breaks into a massive grin as she booms: “You must be Lily!  It’s
lovely to meet you.  Stuart mentioned you to me.  What on earth have you done
to your head?” she says, pointing to my bruised forehead.  Annie speaks in the
way people do when they are talking and listening to very loud music at the
same time and don’t realise they are virtually shouting.  She sees me flinch, as
the heads of all the other gym users shoot up and around like meerkats at such
atypical noisiness and stare in our direction.  She quickly pulls off her
headphones.  “Sorry, didn’t meant to shout at you,” she says, followed by
another of her melting smiles.  Frankly, her voice isn’t much quieter