Read Online Up With the Larks by Tessa Hainsworth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tessa Hainsworth
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him over in my eagerness to hear how the first
session went. 'I hope it was a rich Eastern European princess
who was so thrilled by your exquisite application of healing
oils and massage that she gave you a huge tip well above
your hourly rate,' I babbled as I dragged him inside to tell
me all.
'Hardly,' He shook his head. 'She was an overweight, middleaged
sex worker from Manchester who'd won a packet on the
lottery.'
I stared at him. 'You're joking, aren't you?'
'No.'
'Be serious. No one would admit to being a prostitute, lottery
winner or not.'
'She never said she was a prostitute. Just said a sex worker.'
'She told you? She actually said it? I can't believe I'm hearing
this.'
Ben began to grin. 'I couldn't believe what I'd heard either.
I was half way through her treatment, getting on fine, I thought.
She seemed to be relaxing though she didn't stop talking. That's
how I knew about her lottery win.'
'And her line of work?'
'No, that came later. Suddenly she sat up and said, "Let's
get to the nitty gritty now. Show me what you can do."'
' What ?' I stared at him.
His grin was getting wider. He was certainly enjoying the
telling. 'It turned out she thought aromatherapy massage was
a euphemism for, well, the sex trade. Seems she advertises
herself as a masseuse as well, back home.'
'So she wanted you to perform on her now that she could
afford to be the client? I hope you walked right out.'
Ben laughed. 'She only wanted to learn some new tricks,
she said. For when she's spent all her lottery money and has
to go back to work. She's blowing it on travelling and has
always wanted to go to Cornwall, so she started here first.'
'But if she's on holiday, why . . . ?' I trailed off, speechless
for once.
'Why bring her work into it? I asked her that too. She said
that while she was here, she thought she'd see what her Cornish
colleagues are up to.'
I began to giggle. 'Was she disappointed when you explained
what aromatherapy massage was?'
'She felt sorry for me. Said I probably made far less money
than she did, and would I like her to teach me some good tricks
to increase my trade.'
By this time we were both giggling so hard that Will and
Amy had stopped playing in the courtyard and come inside to
see what the hilarity was all about. 'Not for your ears, you two,'
I said and shooed them back outside.
'How did you refuse her offer?' I narrowed my eyes at him,
mock stern. 'You did, I hope.'
'I was very polite. So was she, actually. I finished the
aromatherapy session and we ended up best of friends, though
I'm sure she thought I was a sad no-hoper for not wanting to
expand my business into the sex trade.'
Ben had no more clients quite like that again but he did have
another unsettling experience at the Roswinnick. A few weeks
later, he walked into a guest's hotel room and there, waiting for
a massage, was an actor Ben had once worked with in London.
'It was so embarrassing,' he told me later, 'for both of us.
Michael hadn't a clue that I'd moved to Cornwall; we'd lost
touch ages ago.'
'What did he say? What did you say?'
'First neither of us could think of a thing, then we both
started talking at once. Then there was another awkward silence
until Michael started going on about what a coincidence it was
to meet in such circumstances. I nodded my agreement and
suddenly he looked stricken and started to say how sorry he
was to . . .'
'To what? Go on, Ben.'
'Nothing. He just trailed off. I think he was going to say
how sorry he was to see me reduced to living in Cornwall,
doing what I was doing. Michael's the kind of guy that thinks
anywhere other than London is unspeakable.'
Ben grew quiet after he told me this. I knew it had affected
him, this chance meeting. I said, 'It must have been awkward.'
'It was, a bit. I asked him if he still wanted the massage and
I could tell he didn't, that it would be embarrassing for him,
but he insisted anyway. He didn't relax at all during it, though
he'd said he needed to
session went. 'I hope it was a rich Eastern European princess
who was so thrilled by your exquisite application of healing
oils and massage that she gave you a huge tip well above
your hourly rate,' I babbled as I dragged him inside to tell
me all.
'Hardly,' He shook his head. 'She was an overweight, middleaged
sex worker from Manchester who'd won a packet on the
lottery.'
I stared at him. 'You're joking, aren't you?'
'No.'
'Be serious. No one would admit to being a prostitute, lottery
winner or not.'
'She never said she was a prostitute. Just said a sex worker.'
'She told you? She actually said it? I can't believe I'm hearing
this.'
Ben began to grin. 'I couldn't believe what I'd heard either.
I was half way through her treatment, getting on fine, I thought.
She seemed to be relaxing though she didn't stop talking. That's
how I knew about her lottery win.'
'And her line of work?'
'No, that came later. Suddenly she sat up and said, "Let's
get to the nitty gritty now. Show me what you can do."'
' What ?' I stared at him.
His grin was getting wider. He was certainly enjoying the
telling. 'It turned out she thought aromatherapy massage was
a euphemism for, well, the sex trade. Seems she advertises
herself as a masseuse as well, back home.'
'So she wanted you to perform on her now that she could
afford to be the client? I hope you walked right out.'
Ben laughed. 'She only wanted to learn some new tricks,
she said. For when she's spent all her lottery money and has
to go back to work. She's blowing it on travelling and has
always wanted to go to Cornwall, so she started here first.'
'But if she's on holiday, why . . . ?' I trailed off, speechless
for once.
'Why bring her work into it? I asked her that too. She said
that while she was here, she thought she'd see what her Cornish
colleagues are up to.'
I began to giggle. 'Was she disappointed when you explained
what aromatherapy massage was?'
'She felt sorry for me. Said I probably made far less money
than she did, and would I like her to teach me some good tricks
to increase my trade.'
By this time we were both giggling so hard that Will and
Amy had stopped playing in the courtyard and come inside to
see what the hilarity was all about. 'Not for your ears, you two,'
I said and shooed them back outside.
'How did you refuse her offer?' I narrowed my eyes at him,
mock stern. 'You did, I hope.'
'I was very polite. So was she, actually. I finished the
aromatherapy session and we ended up best of friends, though
I'm sure she thought I was a sad no-hoper for not wanting to
expand my business into the sex trade.'
Ben had no more clients quite like that again but he did have
another unsettling experience at the Roswinnick. A few weeks
later, he walked into a guest's hotel room and there, waiting for
a massage, was an actor Ben had once worked with in London.
'It was so embarrassing,' he told me later, 'for both of us.
Michael hadn't a clue that I'd moved to Cornwall; we'd lost
touch ages ago.'
'What did he say? What did you say?'
'First neither of us could think of a thing, then we both
started talking at once. Then there was another awkward silence
until Michael started going on about what a coincidence it was
to meet in such circumstances. I nodded my agreement and
suddenly he looked stricken and started to say how sorry he
was to . . .'
'To what? Go on, Ben.'
'Nothing. He just trailed off. I think he was going to say
how sorry he was to see me reduced to living in Cornwall,
doing what I was doing. Michael's the kind of guy that thinks
anywhere other than London is unspeakable.'
Ben grew quiet after he told me this. I knew it had affected
him, this chance meeting. I said, 'It must have been awkward.'
'It was, a bit. I asked him if he still wanted the massage and
I could tell he didn't, that it would be embarrassing for him,
but he insisted anyway. He didn't relax at all during it, though
he'd said he needed to
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