Strange Sally Diamond

She turned away then and it seemed like the conversation was over. But that had been an actual chat and I was proud of myself. She took her phone out of her pocket and started scrolling. After she had been served, she nodded at me before leaving. ‘Goodbye,’ I said, ‘it was nice to chat,’ but she didn’t reply.

At the window, Mrs Sullivan put her head to one side. ‘Sally,’ she said, ‘how have you been?’ She still shouted as if I was deaf.

‘Fine, thank you. I need to get an address for Martha Adebayo, please. She isn’t in the phone book.’

‘Martha the yoga teacher?’ she shouted.

‘I don’t know what she does. She has a husband called Udo and two children.’

‘I know who you mean. Her studio is down Bracken Lane by the butcher’s,’ she said. ‘Sunflower Studio. I don’t think I can give out her home address. Why do you want it?’

I pretended to be deaf again and turned around and left. ‘Happy Christmas!’ she called after me. I didn’t return the greeting.

‘Poor thing,’ she said to the man behind me. ‘I think her hearing comes and goes.’

I walked up the hill and turned left on to Bracken Lane at the butcher’s shop. The Sunflower Studio was right next door. I remember when it used to be a florist, but then a supermarket opened up in the village of Knocktoom, five miles away, and gradually the florist, the grocer’s and the bakery all closed, leaving only the small Gala supermarket and the Texaco.

A large glass shop window revealed six women and one man with their backs to it, legs stretched, bums in the air, arms reaching forward. Martha stood with her back to them, and they all rose and reached their hands to the ceiling with splayed fingers and then bent forward as she did, dropping their arms and shoulders and shaking their hands to release tension. I had followed an exercise class like this on morning TV a few years ago. Dad used to join in sometimes. He said it was good for me to get exercise, but apart from long walks around our land, I hadn’t done that much recently.

The class was over. The students all retrieved layers of clothes from neat piles on a shelved unit and started to put them on. I guessed there were no shower facilities here and I thought again about Angela and Nadine’s perfect shower.

I heard Martha’s voice then. ‘Sally! Come in. Did you want to sign up for a class?’

I pushed through the door as the others passed me. I didn’t look up until we were alone. ‘How are you?’ I said.

‘Not bad. A bit sweaty.’ The room was warm and I could see the florist’s counter was still there. She went to a water fountain. ‘That’s the last class before Christmas, but you’d be welcome to join us on 4th January. A hundred euro for eight classes. I’m sure you could do with some loosening up?’

‘Would you like a childminder for free?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I know I have no experience but my mum always said I should get a job and your children are the first children that I’ve met that I liked. I could feed them, and I’ve done a first-aid course so they’d be perfectly safe, and I was a good student so perhaps I could help them with their homework.’

All the words rushed out of me and I looked into her face to see if she understood me.

‘And I’ve stocked up on chocolate biscuits and I promise I won’t tell them not to go to school. I would do exactly what you tell me. You could write it down for me. I’m excellent with instructions. I could collect them and drive them home, as often as you like.’

She was grinning. This was a good sign. We sat on two chairs while she drank a plastic glass of water.

‘I’m so glad you like my children.’

‘So, about the childminding?’

‘Look, no offence, Sally, but I’m not sure you’re the right … fit for that kind of job. Besides, I only work part-time, I can be home when school finishes. We don’t need a childminder.’

I was annoyed. ‘Why do you think I’m not the right fit?’

‘Sally, you have no proper qualifications. I’m glad you like my kids but the fact that they are the only kids you like is … weird. What if they misbehaved with you? I don’t know how you would handle discipline if you were angry with them.’

‘Usually, when I am angry or depressed, I pull my hair out,’ I said.

‘Oh my God! Don’t you see how that would upset them?’

‘I wouldn’t pull their hair out, and sometimes I play the piano to calm myself.’

‘I’m sorry, Sally. If you’re looking for a job, I don’t think childminding is right for you. But, you know, I honestly think yoga might help you to cope with stress. Think about it. First two classes for free. What do you say?’

She was smiling again. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I said and turned to leave. ‘Will you tell Abebi that I’m not coming to the nativity play? Children are usually terrible actors.’

She laughed. I guess she thought I was joking. ‘I understand. Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be missing much.’

I went towards the door.

‘Hey, happy Christmas, Sally!’ she said.

‘Happy Christmas, especially to the children,’ I said.

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