The Perfect 10 by Louise Kean

with your definition,’ Lisa says as she reads the back of a gym pamphlet, eyeing up the new classes on offer.
    ‘I could do. I guess I am still concentrating on the fat burning at the moment, the high impact cardio stuff, but I know that yoga is supposed to be good.’
    ‘I mean, it doesn’t appeal to me as much, but I’ve been working my muscles for longer, so they are in better shape. And you never know, it might help with your loose skin.’
    ‘Maybe,’ I say, and look over to the bar to see if the drinks are ready. They are just being poured, so I grab my purse, saying, ‘I’ll get these,’ beating a hasty retreat before I actually start to cry.
    I pay, but the cups are a strange shape and they burn my fingers, so I carry Lisa’s coffee over to her, and pop it down on the table as she thanks me. I turn to go back and grab the other cup, but the guy with the squash racket from earlier has followed me over, carrying the second cup.
    ‘That’s what I like to see, black coffee, not undoing all your hard work, not like us boozers. Where do you want it?’ he asks with a smile.
    ‘Oh, you didn’t have to do that, thank you. I can take it from here,’ I say, thinking, how lovely! How chivalrous! How unusual!
    ‘No worries. I’ll pop it on the table,’ he says with a cheerful grin. He has an Australian accent and thinning hair. He is equal parts muscle and fat, and I think his chest looks welcoming, and I decide he must give good hugs.
    ‘I’m sure she could have managed,’ Lisa mumbles under her breath, but both the Australian and I hear it and I give her a strange look.
    ‘That was my pleasure,’ he says to me pointedly, smiling, and walks back to the bar.
    ‘Lisa, that was a bit rude. Do you know him or something?’ I ask.
    ‘No, thank God! I mean, could he have been any more obvious? Jesus! And look at him – he’s all fat! Like you want some huge fat guy hitting on you.’
    ‘He was just being nice, I think,’ I say, blowing on my coffee, embarrassed.
    ‘Well, if you flirt with guys like that, Sunny, you only have yourself to blame,’ she says, and flicks her hair, picking up the leaflet again, not making eye contact with me.
    ‘I wasn’t flirting … I was just … being polite …’
    ‘OK, if you say so.’ She throws the pamphlet down and smiles at me with quite apparent disbelief.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ I say, confused.
    ‘Just don’t be so naïve, Sunny. I could have every guy in here hitting on me if that’s what I wanted, but it’s just about respecting yourself. I know you aren’t married yet, so it’s different, but … don’t be too obvious.’
    I am sure my mouth falls open.
    ‘Are we still running on Thursday? I know the weather report is bad, but it would be such a shame to miss it. I love that we can jog together now. It’s so much nicer having somebody to run with in the week. I’m so happy for you, Sunny – and for me too, of course, because I get you to run with!’ She lifts her coffee cup and toasts it in my direction. It’s her way of apologising but still I feel hurt.
    I check my watch. ‘I’m really sorry, Lisa. I have to dash. I have a delivery at three.’
    I grab my bag, and peck her goodbye. She looks slightly baffled as I run off, and I’m completely unable to make eye contact with the big Australian as I dash past.
    ‘It might help if you talked about the incident in a bit more detail – the emotional impact you feel it may have had on you.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Not yet?’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘But you understand that it will need to be confronted, at some point?’
    ‘Not really. It’s over. It’s done. I’ve told you what happened. I don’t want to think about it. You could do with some new rugs.’
    ‘All you’ve told me is that a child was snatched and you helped get him back – there must be more to it than that.’
    ‘It wouldn’t kill you to co-ordinate in here. It would make it easier.’
    ‘Make what easier?’
    ‘Focusing. Your