The Nesting by C.J. Cooke

Author:C.J. Cooke [Cooke, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-08-26T17:00:00+00:00

18

THE ATTIC

Now

‘Now, lean forward and put all your weight on your palms. That’s it. A little more. Feet off the ground.’

I was in crow pose – or bakasana – which means I had both hands planted on the floorboards of Derry’s bedroom, my legs bent at the knees and my feet kicking up behind me a foot or so off the ground. It sounds weird because it is weird, especially if you have the biceps of an office worker, which is to say – none.

‘Hurrah!’ Derry said, clapping. A second later I keeled forward and landed flat on my face.

‘Whoopsadaisy,’ Derry laughed, helping me upright. ‘Well done. Why don’t we try some of the easier asanas? Legs outstretched, like this.’

I tried to copy her on my mat – one of Derry’s – but as I raised my arms in the air my sleeves started to roll down. Derry had insisted on loaning me yoga pants – (‘green, the colour of the heart chakra!’) – and a top, but I had panicked a little at this. The sleeves had very loose cuffs, and I definitely did not want Derry seeing my scars.

I clutched the hems of the sleeves with my fingers and held them tightly.

‘Fingers spread wide,’ Derry encouraged. ‘Right inside the centre of your palms is a circle of energy. Let it flow, Sophie. Let the energy dance.’

I tried this, but immediately the sleeves began to slide down my arm. I stood upright, embarrassed. ‘I think I’ve … hurt my shoulder,’ I lied.

Derry gave me a look of concern. She pressed her palms and feet together and bowed deeply. ‘Namaste.’

I began to roll up the mat, but she stopped me. ‘Let me massage your shoulders.’

She pressed down on either side of my neck with startling strength. ‘Wow, yes. There we go. A truckload of tension right there in your rhomboid minor. You must be in agony. Lie down for me, please.’

Still clutching my sleeves I lay down stomach-first as bidden, flat on the mat with my head turned to the side, like roadkill. Derry knelt over me and pushed and prodded at my shoulders.

‘You have trigger points right down to your shoulder blades, my love. You must feel unsupported in some area of your life. Is that true?’

‘Maybe,’ I said vaguely.

‘Golly. Lots of heat coming from this one in particular. Interesting. It’s connected to the root chakra.’

She was pushing on a muscle I didn’t know I had, right at the base of my neck. ‘Is that a good thing?’ I grunted, trying not to scream.

‘The root chakra is your foundation. It’s where you keep all your childhood stuff, your family issues, boundaries, and survival instincts. Your deepest fears. I sense this chakra is very blocked.’ She paused. ‘May I ask a personal question?’

Mercifully she stopped pushing at the muscle and allowed me to sit upright. ‘Yes?’

She opened her mouth, thought carefully, then abandoned her original question. ‘Your novel … is it biographical?’

‘You mean, is it based on my life?’ By which she meant autobiographical, but never mind.

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