Jenny watched as once again the brown belt was slammed into the mat, above him floating on the balls of his feet in almost perfect balance the instructor smiled and retreated, waiting for his student to rise again from the floor.
His smile radiated humour and peace, in this place, his dojo, his club…
Looking around the hall, Jenny could see other martial artists in various stages of movement, like a kaleidoscope of living white-clad jigsaw puzzles phasing in and out of time, until one party cascaded to the mats or flew into the air in fanfare of success, before a crescendo of impact.
There must have been twenty five students and instructors here tonight, more than she’d seen present before, evidence of ‘the Carl effect’ she’d heard so much of, the returning of the head teacher.
Many were watching Carl as he trained, as he vied with his opponent. He possessed a mesmerising quality in the way he moved, like you were being drawn to the culmination of the next throw, you couldn’t tear your eyes away until the act had been completed.
There were upwards of seven students and instructors, watching and waiting in expectation of the call to end the present sparring contests. All eager to take the next turn with Carl, keen to test themselves and hope for a throw against the dojo head.
Carl had been the senior instructor here for over fifteen years, working his way up the grades until he was one of the lower instructors, helping, guiding, and chastising the students, protecting the members from excessively aggressive fighters from other clubs who visited regularly.
Jenny had only been at the dojo some three weeks, having moved down from Manchester recently. She had sought out this club, eager to meet ‘Carl’ and to continue her training, keen to meet the instructors so highly rated by her old instructors in Manchester.
Jenny was no slouch when it came to her Aikido, having trained for nearly six years, but she could see her level was below that of the black belts at this club, they seemed to have an extra gear, an extra sensitivity to the art, which she did not yet possess.
This was the first time she’d seen Carl in action, he’d been away in Europe on a teaching seminar when she had arrived. She had been irritated at the time, but in reality the few weeks had allowed her to acclimatize to the club, before the Maestro returned.
“Yame” called the time keeper to stop the bouts, quickly calling commands to bow and swap for new partners.
Jenny missed her chance to practice with Carl, as a very keen young black belt positioned himself opposite the head instructor for the next bout.
The end of the class brought the sitting meditation, a few minutes where everyone got their heart and breathing regulated and relaxed their thoughts. This was a time to think of nothing, to let your mind drift with no direction or subject, to feel, rather than contemplate.
Jenny found she was unable to relax her thoughts, her mind in a whirl over Carl, his reputation had not been over stated. While Carl was not blessed with movie star looks, he was none the less a magnet, it was in his eyes, in his confidence, in his peace. She could see now why Ellen had been attracted to him.
Jenny struggled to ignore the stirring within her. She was not here for this and it was immoral for her to even let such thoughts in.
She had a goal in mind, ‘stay focused’ she told herself.

With the class over, students left the mats to take showers, leaving behind a small core group of black belts. This small crew continued with the fighting a few moments later, in a more exclusive clique.
This was then where these Dan grades gained that extra ability, where they and Carl honed their skills.
Jenny sat watching as the fighters increased the tempo of their bouts, as they flourished with freedom unseen in the rest of the class. Now their voices were evident with teasing and laughter, everything allowed in this senior play time.
Here the black belts all began to show more gracious throws, to produce techniques with a sublime skill and to breathe harder.
Every so often, Jenny saw that Carl would look at her, a momentary flicker of notice between the windows of avoidance movement or a throw. In fact every one fighting would catch her eye every so often, it just seemed that with Carl, it was more intimate.

Finally the end was called and each stood panting and smiling in a contented acceptance. And there stood Carl, his blond hair lank against his sweaty forehead, his pupils dilated, with a contented smile on his face, grinning like a big care free kid.
The group bowed out of their practice, all reverting to chatty boys, keen to remember that fabulous technique or to take the Mickey out of some one who fell for a sucker throw.
Carl came towards her with the group.
“Carl, this is Jenny, she started here a couple of weeks ago.” one of the instructors introduced her…
“Hi, I’m Carl, welcome to the club…” he offered her a hand.
“Hi, thanks, it looked like fun out there.” She replied, taking the hand and reminding herself that she had a duty to do.
“It is, maybe we can do a little sparring next time?” Carl replied.
“I’d like that.” Jenny replied, trying to stifle the anger building slowly like a creeping ice field.
“You know Jenny, you seem familiar, when I was fighting, I kept rechecking and trying to place your face, have we met before?”
“No, Carl we haven’t, this is the first time we've met.' Jenny admitted.
God, she almost blurted it right out there! 'That he should recognise her face, she was an exact double of her mother, Ellen Mitchell, the woman who had his child!
Whoa girl, calm down. Get to know this man first, before you decide to enter his world, remember, he never knew...'