The Spa Day Read Free Page A

stick.
    ‘This might hurt a bit, but it won’t last long.’
    ‘Aw.’
    ‘I’m going to start on the left and move across to the
right, OK?’
    I grunt weakly to show I’ve understood and brace myself. It
feels like he’s using the rounded end of this thicker stick and he slowly
pushes it against one of the knots near my shoulder blade. Oh god it hurts. The
movement isn’t rapid; more like a slow but firm push against the offending
area. He does the same thing to several other knots and then, thankfully, stops
before I pass out or start blaspheming like a docker .
    ‘Very good. I’m just going to pop out of the room now, to
give you a break and to allow you to turn onto your back. I think we’ll leave
those knots for today and have another assault on them tomorrow.’
    ‘Assault’ is the right bloody word. When I hear him leave, I
sit up and take a few deep breaths. I just hope my newly energised lymphatic
system rewards me with a huge box of chocolates and a bottle of Baileys when I
get home!
    I notice that the Japanesey muzak is still churning away in the background. I’m sure
that real Japanese music doesn’t sound anything like this at all. I read
somewhere once that instant coffee isn’t really coffee at all – it’s a
coffee-flavoured hot drink. By that reckoning, this is music-flavoured silence!
    I have a big stretch (my bones cracking several times to
punish me) and lie down on my back, carefully draping the towel across my
boobs. My hair must be a mess from lying face down on that padded thing, so I
run my hands through it and then rub my face. I really must stop thinking such
negative thoughts about Clive! It’s all I seem to be doing since I got here.
Maybe I’m too busy to think them in normal life. Maybe all it needs is your
thoughts to flow free and everything starts falling apart. Perhaps this place
could use that for their next advertising campaign. ‘Come to Willows Health
Farm – everything in your life will start falling apart!’
    There’s a knock on the door. I say ‘OK!’ and James comes
back in. He smiles at me and checks the electric blanket that the bamboo sticks
live in. He’s got a nice smile, but it’s a professional one. It must be
constantly on your mind to detach yourself from any sort of friendliness when
you’re doing a job like this, particularly when most of your clients are
scantily-clad women and particularly when you’ve got women like Rebecca
cruising around like some predatory spa shark.
    He rubs some oil into my legs and starts on them with the
bamboo.
    ‘What’s that smell? The oil, I mean.’
    ‘ Cedarwood and lime. Sounds an
unlikely combination, but they seem to go well together.’
    ‘You’re right, it’s nice.’
    He rolls the bamboo up and down the side of my legs. There’s
more pressure than last time. He’s probably judged how much I can take by now.
I start to wonder whether my thighs will be able to support my weight after
this. I can feel severe muscle twitch coming on.
    ‘So how long are you here for? Couple of months?
    ‘Just the three days.’ I laugh. ‘I’d come here for longer if
I could afford it, but there’s also work. I couldn’t take that long off as I’m
off over Christmas as well. Well, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day.
Back for New Year’s Eve.’
    ‘What’s it like working in a hospital over Christmas?’
    ‘Same as any other day, in the end. A bit sad, you know,
with kids and stuff.’
    ‘Do they make jokes about your name? The kids, that is.’
    ‘If they do, I just punch them, Christmas day or not. Then I
take their presents and sell them.’
    ‘Good thing, too. They just don’t know where to draw the
line sometimes, do they? What are you doing for Christmas? Anything
interesting?’
    This is very similar to hairdresser chat. Is he gay, I
wonder? It would drive me mad, having to make small talk with people you don’t
know all day every day. I have to do it to a degree, but at least some of