Learning curves by Gemma Townley

know.” Jen grinned at Angel. People like Angel didn’t understand, she realized, that not everyone found it easy to twist their left leg around their body, stick their right arm up in the air, and stand on the tips of their toes. It wasn’t that Jen didn’t like yoga. It was just that every time she tried it she felt so clumsy, so un-supple, that she didn’t dare go back. “But I’ll need to practice first. Maybe I should get pre-yoga lessons,” she said with a little smile.
    Angel shook her head. “You always turn everything into a joke,” she said seriously.
    “What’s wrong with that?”
    “It’s a cover-up! Life isn’t always funny, you know. Sometimes it’s painful. You deal with the pain, and then you move on.”
    Jen frowned. “I’m not in pain, Angel, I promise.”
    Angel shrugged. “I know. I’m just a bit pissed off. Only two people came to my class yesterday.”
    “Ah.” Jen put her hand out and squeezed her friend’s arm. “I’m sorry. They’ll come soon, I know they will.”
    “Maybe they all need pre-yoga lessons,” Angel said with a little sigh. “So how about you? How was your dinner on Friday? I missed you when I was dancing the night away surrounded by lots of very handsome men.”
    “All right for some,” Jen said enviously. “Any of them get your number?”
    Angel raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “Not that handsome,” she said with a little smile. Angel loved the idea of going out and meeting men—particularly men who weren’t Indian. The idea of being out dancing in the sort of place that would make her mother squeal with indignation was delightful to Angel, who’d been fighting off the prospect of an arranged marriage for the past five years. But that was as far as she ever went—to Jen’s knowledge, she’d had never so much as gone out on a date with any of the men who followed her round the bars and clubs they frequented.
    “So tell me about your dinner,” Angel continued, deftly moving the conversation on. Her eyes were twinkling and Jen shook her head.
    “Don’t get me started,” she said grimly. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone.”
    “No nice young men at your charity dinner, then?” Angel, who still felt responsible for both Jen meeting Gavin and subsequently splitting up with him a couple of years later, was determined that she should meet someone and soon. Jen rolled her eyes.
    “No, but that’s not why I went. I stupidly thought I might actually find something out about Axiom. Some chance.”
    “Ah, yes, the war on your father. I forgot.”
    Jen frowned. “It isn’t a war on my father. I’m trying to get to the bottom of a corruption ring. It’s serious.”
    “A corruption ring that might involve your father.”
    “And?” Jen could feel her defenses rising.
    “And you think that by finding out the truth he might actually notice you.”
    Angel looked directly into Jen’s eyes and Jen winced.
Why is it that Angel never skirts around an issue,
Jen found herself wondering. Most people were polite and evasive and agreed with you, even if they knew you were talking bullshit. Whereas Angel always looked straight past whatever you said and found the one thing you were ignoring as hard as you could. Trust her to find the only best friend in the world who didn’t let you get away with anything, even subconsciously.
    “No,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as anything. “It’s nothing to do with that.”
    Angel shrugged slightly. “I just hope you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see you hurt, okay?”
    Jen finished her coffee. “Of course I know what I’m doing. And I won’t get hurt,” she said defiantly.
    “If you do, you can always joke about it, I suppose,” Angel said thoughtfully. “Now, pass me the Style supplement. I want to do something new with my hair and I can’t decide what.”
    The next morning, a fired-up Jen found herself in a small room, staring at a man in his early forties, wearing