“Ivy, right?” He asked as I stood alone next to the crash matts in my Lycra.
“Yep. Erm – listen, I can go if you like.” I gestured to the empty room. “This session can hardly be profitable for you with just me paying.”
“I don’t do it for the profit.” He smiled as he rolled up his sleeves. He had a kind face. If it wasn’t for the shaved hair and obvious military stance, he wouldn’t look like a man who had served in the military.
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.” He beckoned me into the middle of the room. “If you like we can make the session a little different though.” He folded his arms, matching my stance – I rather think on purpose.
“What do you mean?”
“You came last week, with Leonora. Scary girl when she wants to be.”
“She scares us all,” I joked, feeling the tug of a smile on my cheeks. The sensation was quite foreign.
“I’m not surprised.” He held my gaze, suddenly turning serious. “It was not difficult to see she dragged you along for a reason. Can I ask what the reason is?”
My eyes shot down to my feet, clad in my running shoes. They were frayed and dirty at the edges, it was a bit like how I felt. Eventually I shook my head. I did not want to discuss it with him.
“Very well. In which case, I’ll give you options of manoeuvres to learn. How does that sound?” His voice was kind, soft so not to scare me. “For example, do you want to learn what to do when someone attacks from the front? The back? Erm…” He thought for a minute. “Maybe if they grab your shoulder, arm, elbow.”
I nodded suddenly. This actually sounded good.
“Arms – that sounds good. It kind of restricts the ability to move.” My voice was quiet. For some reason, this miserable version of myself wanted to be a mouse.
“Okay, that’s good. Over here,” he nodded, pleased he had found something practical to do.
We ran through a lot of positions. He showed me what to do if someone grabbed my elbow, one or both. If they went for just my hands, best to utilise the elbows in that case, straight to the nose. He also went through what to do if tackled to the ground.
It was good. More painful than before, but I didn’t feel so ridiculous this time. It gave me something else to think about.
“Last thing before you go.” He picked up a set of keys off the table where his cash box sat. “These are probably the best weapon you can think of that’s always easy to hand.”
“A set of keys?” I arched an eyebrow as I towelled off some of the sweat. “How?”
“Sharp and pointy,” he smiled wickedly. “Like this,” he demonstrated by putting the point of the key between his fingers. “If you’re in a dark road by yourself, I recommend everyone holds their keys in their hand like this. If someone grabs you, swing round, and that punch is no longer just a punch. You would wound instantly. Head for the face. If you’re truly terrified, I’d even say the eye.”
“Erggh!!” I responded, recoiling at the thought.
“Yeah, yuck. I get it.” He laughed it off as he pocketed the keys. “You may not ever need it and I really hope you don’t, but if it ever comes to the moment where you’re truly scared. If you think your attacker is truly trying to hurt you, hurt them first. At that point, it’s you or them. You can’t always guarantee they’ll be someone there to help. That make sense?”
I nodded, suddenly very grateful.
“Thank you, Blake,” I pulled my keys from my bag and poked the halls’ key through the gap in my fingers as I made a fist.
“Perfect,” he laughed. “Now you’re practically lethal. Get going before it gets dark.” I hurried to the door, keeping the key between my fingers. “Oh, Ivy?”
I paused in the doorway, looking back at him as he stood by his cash box, consuming the space in the room and emanating a feeling that was both steady and safe.
“Whoever it is you’re worried about,” he didn’t give me chance to interrupt, he just pushed on. “Perhaps think about why they’re worrying you and if they’re going out of their way to do it.”
“Why is that?” I watched him closely, not quite understanding the meaning.
“In my experience, there usually is a reason. Maybe they need help too.”
I nodded at his words yet could say no more. My mind was back on Rosie, my hand used the key to scratch the place on my wrist where two ladybugs were having a fist fight.
The morning after I woke with a sense of purpose. I don’t know what made me plan to do it, whether it was dreaming of Rosie again, the shadows under my eyes or the fact it was now April, I had to do it.
I didn’t bother with makeup. I’m not even sure what I wore; I just threw on something to keep out the sudden cold we were experiencing, then I walked to Exeter Central station and took a train to Salisbury.
From what my mum had said, my dad hadn’t yet left Salisbury for his holiday in Scotland, but I wasn’t going to tell him I was there. It wasn’t the point of my last-minute visit.
I grabbed a coffee as I arrived and walked numbly to the florists. I picked out a red bunch with a few white roses scattered between them. Red like ladybugs.
As I crossed the city centre, passing the tall spire of the cathedral, I imagined myself as a shell of a person. The black hole had grown so much it consumed my entire innards. It was just the hollow shell stepping
