Meant To Be
Her injury meant Hayley could no longer go to Beijing, and she thought her whole life was over – but was it?
Hayley especially loved using Manton’s Ice Cool Skating Rink in the evenings.
Mid-week the training area was usually quiet, and she could concentrate on her moves, practising again and again for hours on a routine that would last less than five minutes before the judges.
In some ways she supposed professional figure skating wasn’t a lot different to other disciplines where those brief moments of performance were the result of endless dedicated rehearsal.
Normally she thrived on preparation, but tonight her muscles were aching.
The long days of not practising were already beginning to show in the lack of fluidity in her moves and in her decreased speed across the ice.
Unbelievably, it had been more than two weeks since she’d last skated and she’d missed it terribly. Every day she’d woken in her cosy bedsit across town, hoping she’d healed, and that she’d be able to go back on the ice, but it hadn’t happened.
The pain had been extreme, only easing in the last couple of days.
Desperate to try, this evening she’d decided she’d take a risk, even with her right arm in a sling. See if she could still skate. Perhaps…?
Frustrated by how quickly she’d lost both form and confidence, she left the ice and made her way to the changing room. It was almost deserted with only a couple of other girls seated on the bench, lacing up their trainers.
As soon as she entered, their chatter died, and she heard them whisper.
Although she couldn’t decipher the words, she could imagine what they were saying.
“There’s Hayley Oliver. What’s she doing here? Why isn’t she in Beijing?”
Good question, Hayley thought miserably.
She was unlacing her ice skates when the call from Scott came through. Usually seeing her coach’s name on her mobile screen was enough to make her feel that familiar little jump. But this time that happiness was mixed with trepidation.
He was unaware she was here at Ice Cool Skating Rink. She cringed. Knowing what he’d say if he found out.
“Meet me,” he said, his voice low and deep. “At the Western Garden’s railway station.”
“It’s getting late. And cold.”
He’d laughed then. “Hayley Oliver, the cold has never bothered you.
“You’re one of the UK’s top figure skaters. You live for the ice!”
She’d laughed then too – the first time in weeks – but still felt that pang.
Perhaps it was too premature to think it just yet, but it had been on the tip of her tongue to say to him, I was one of the UK’s top skaters.
After zipping her prized white boots edged with gold trim into her bag, she slipped on her coat, careful not to hurt her right shoulder. Scott would go mad if he learned she’d been at the rink this soon after…
Last week she’d had a bad accident on the ice. Falling backwards, she’d kept her head forward as she’d been trained to do but that had meant her shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact.
A searing pain had shot through her shoulder the second she hit the ice.
Scott had taken her straight to Manton hospital’s A&E department, sitting patiently with her while she waited to be examined.
An X-ray had shown she hadn’t broken any bones, but the doctor told her, “You’ve dislocated your shoulder.”
It had been agony having the joint popped back in but once her right arm had been put in a sling and the painkillers had taken effect, she began to feel better.
“This doesn’t have to effect Beijing,” she told Scott as he drove her home. “You know how quickly I recover.”
“Hayley, the doctor said it will be weeks before you can perform again.”
Tears had stung her blue eyes, but she was determined to make the flight. The next day she’d gone to Ice Cool’s Skating Rink.
“I’m sorry, Hayley, there’s no way you’re going to Beijing with that injury,” Alan, the team physio, had said, his eyes full of concern, as he checked her over. “Your shoulder just won’t heal in time.”
Hayley had begged him to change his mind, but it was no good.
“If you don’t give the injury enough time to heal, for your shoulder to stabilise, you could end up with a permanent loss of movement. Believe me, even a place at the Winter Olympics isn’t worth a lifetime of pain and disability.”
Hayley had been devastated.
“Not worth it? I’ve trained for this chance since I was three years old,” she’d cried.
All those hours and hours of practice, dedication and sacrifice had been leading to her place at this year’s Winter Olympics. But now Scott, her coach and Alan, her physio – who were both supposed to be on her side, part of her team – were telling her she couldn’t go. It was the worst feeling ever.
As the tears had slid down her face, Scott had quietly talked to her.
“Accidents are part and parcel of an ice skater’s life. You know that.
“Every time you step onto the rink you risk an injury that could stop you training. The timing couldn’t be worse, and I feel for you, but the doctor at the hospital and Alan are right. Deep down you know that, too.”
Once back home, she’d cried for a whole day, and did everything Alan the physio had advised – using ice packs, taking plenty of rest, swallowing anti-inflammatories.
Slowly her shoulder pain had lessened, and she began to feel a little better.
Today she’d woken with renewed determination to get back on the ice.
Scott and Alan would be outraged. They’d definitely feel it was too soon. But she must try.
Maybe if she showed them that she was OK, she could take a later flight to Beijing. Join the rest of the team who had left two days ago. Perhaps…?
Taking her first tentative steps onto the ice, she’d skated as carefully as a newbie, even holding onto the handrail with her good arm to begin with.
As she left the security of the rail, she had slid around the ice, feeling as if she was home.
But then she’d tried a few basic jumps – a toe loop and then a Lutz.
And she knew in that moment, that even though her shoulder injury was healing, it was too late for her to join the squad.
Her movements were stiff, and fear of hurting her shoulder again was stopping her performing with the graceful fluidity for which she was known.
The hospital doctor, Alan and Scott had all been right. It would be weeks before she was back up to full fitness – and then only if she didn’t have another fall, she thought miserably, as she reluctantly left the rink to head for the railway station.
The weather forecast had been spot on for a change. Snow was already falling steadily, blanketing Manton’s streets soft and white. She shivered. She was used to the ice but not the snow and took a deep breath in wonder at its beauty.
Tucking her left hand deep into her pocket, she was glad of her winter coat and warm boots.
With her head down, she hurried to the station, careful not to slip and jar her bad shoulder, her right arm still in a sling.
Night was falling and she didn’t want to keep Scott waiting.
Maybe they’d go for a coffee or catch the train home together.
Scott Taylor had been a male ice figure skating champion, winning selection for the UK in the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics. But an ankle injury had prematurely ended his career and he’d had to re-establish himself as a top coach.
For the last three years, Hayley had been lucky enough to work with him and had seen a huge improvement in her skills. Not only was he a wonderful coach but he was one of the kindest men she’d ever met.
She turned towards the station building.
Scott was more than a coach though. He was a friend, too. She loved how he could make her smile at the end of a tough training session and was there for her whenever she needed him.
Once or twice, there’d been that moment that had blushed between them when she’d thought, perhaps…?
He had the most beautiful light brown eyes that sometimes held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
The look was enough to make her tingle all over.
But he was her coach. The man she relied on for her career.
Romance would spoil what they had, and a break-up would devastate their working relationship which, up until now, had been mega important to her.
“Hayley!” he greeted as she stepped into the station.
Tall, with the perfect poise of a skater, he effortlessly commanded attention. She smiled, delighted to see him, and there it was again – that extra excitement that he radiated whenever they met. The extra wide smile, the extra warmth to his tone of voice.
“Scott,” she smiled, hugging him as he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.
She’d always loved men with close-cropped beards and he looked so striking in his black Tri-climate jacket, his greying hair long and flopping into his light brown eyes.
“How are you?” he asked, tucking her left hand through his arm. “How’s that shoulder? Any easier?”
“OK.” She pulled a face.
“Actually, it’s better than OK today. My shoulder’s feeling the best it has since the accident.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Shall we walk? The park is really beautiful when the snow is down.”
She nodded.
Even walking around a grey industrial estate would be beautiful with Scott, she thought, and then reminded herself this man was her coach, her boss, her tutor. Not her lover.
The Western Gardens Park was across the road from the railway station. Tonight, the cold weather had rendered it almost deserted as they made their way through the wrought iron gates.
The snow had changed the landscape from familiar to unknown.
Where was the brick path? The lake with the pedaloes? The crazy golf course? But benches covered in a dressing of snow marked their route, and tall streetlamps lit their way, as icy flakes swirled in the bright light.
On the other side of the path, trees bare of leaf but with branches edged with white, huddled to protect them from the chill night breeze.
“So – your shoulder – is it really painful?” he asked, softly.
She nodded. “It has been.”
“And how about your heart?”
“My heart?” She frowned as she shifted her large purple bag, which he immediately reached for.
She hesitated. Although when she’d got his call in the changing room, she’d hidden her skate bag inside another gym bag, he would guess from the weight that her boots were inside.
“Yes, your heart. I know what it’s like to have to miss an Olympics after months – no, years – of training and preparation.”
She remembered then. Of course, he was the one person who did know exactly how she felt. He’d broken his ankle so badly he’d not only had to miss the Vancouver Winter Olympics but also had to give up his entire competing career.
She shrugged. “It’s like no other pain, isn’t it? To know that your chance has gone.”
“For you, there’s always Italy 2026,” he said, quiet, holding her blue gaze.
With Scott she could admit the truth, even if she struggled to acknowledge it to herself.
“I think 2026 will be too late for me. I’ll be thirty then. Ready to face other challenges in life – marriage, children.
I can’t leave starting a family forever.”
His light brown eyes held an expression that she couldn’t read.
What did it mean? What was he thinking…?
But before she could ask, he shook her bag.
“This feels very heavy. What’s in here?”
There was no way she could lie to Scott, so she took a deep breath.
“You know it’s my skates. But before you go off on one, I was very careful. I skated round the training rink like an old lady.”
He laughed then. “You? Careful? That’s a first.”
“You’re not angry?”
“You know the risks…”
He shrugged but his eyes held hers and she shivered. Was he talking about skating or something else?
Perhaps…? she thought.
“It doesn’t much matter now,” she said, grumpily.
“If I skate, or even if I fall again – I’ve missed out on going to the Olympics.”
“You know, I felt the same as you when I injured my ankle and I had to miss Vancouver. But sometimes what you think are the worst things in life can lead to the very best.”
When she frowned, he added, “I loved competing, training, improving my skills, being a central part of the squad… and when I hurt my ankle, I felt as if my life was over. Literally.
“But,” he smiled, slowly, “if the accident hadn’t happened then perhaps…”
“Perhaps?”
“I’d never have been a coach, which is the career that’s actually brought me the most joy.”
“Even more than competing? I can’t see that. How?”
“Well, I met you for a start,” he breathed.
Time paused as snowflakes fluttered around them in the dark evening air.
“Me?” she said. Did he mean…?
Perhaps…?
Gently he reached out and stroked the outline of her cheek, his touch as light as a butterfly wing.
“Yes, you, Hayley Oliver. You mean so much to me.”
She smiled to try to break the tension.
“As a protégé, you mean. A skater to prod and cajole…”
“No, as a friend.” His hand stayed to cup her chin. “And as a woman…”
The atmosphere was so intense between them she could actually hear her heart beating. She gazed into his beautiful eyes,
“You feel that? About me?”
Slowly he nodded.
“I love you, Hayley. I always have. I think from the first moment I saw you perform that perfect scratch spin.
“While we were training, I would never have told you. But now, the time is right, perhaps…”
She stood still, trying to absorb all he’d told her. He loved her.
Unbelievably, he shared her feelings.
So, she’d been right when she’d sensed a deeper connection between them.
“I thought it was just me…”
Slowly he smiled. “You feel the same way?”
She nodded, her smile slow and instinctive.
Gently, he pulled her to him then, no doubt careful not to hurt her injured shoulder, and kissed her.
In that moment, standing in the beauty of the frozen park, sharing her first kiss with the man she’d loved for all this time, she felt as special as if she’d won a hundred gold medals.
“Believe me, Hayley, there is life after training, competing, even skating,” he said. “A wonderful life.”
“Maybe, there is,” she said, tucking her good arm through his. “Come on, I’m cold. Let’s go and find an open café where we can have a coffee.”
“Does that make this our first date?”
“I suppose it does,” she laughed.
And as the silent snow fell all around them, she knew he was right.
Even when skating, when bowing to the audience’s wild applause and receiving perfect scores from the judges, she’d never felt as fulfilled as she did right now, sharing this moment here with Scott.
There was a brilliant life ahead. For both of them. A life in which they were together always…
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