I spun round without caution from slamming the outer door shut behind me and my momentum nearly sent both of us sprawling. On a reflex, I grabbed at their jacket. It was only when we’d steadied that I realised who it was I’d got hold of. “McKenna?” I said, my voice sharp and incredulous. “What are you doing here?” But the youngster just threw me a panicked glance, jerked himself free, and hurried away. I watched, puzzled, until he’d turned the corner. He looked dreadful, his skin grey and clammy. He hadn’t come across as the type dedicated enough to the course to drag himself from his sick bed to take part in a group exercise. I shrugged and let it go. I had other things on my mind as I stalked across the square with my shoulders hunched down into my jacket and my anger bubbling away under the surface. Blakemore was just the unlucky one. He was the first of the instructors I came across, but even so, he was the one I suppose I had the most faith in. Maybe it was just fate that it happened that way.
