The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (10 page)

The thought of a life without potatoes, bread, rice
and
cereal was a bit daunting, but the promise of losing a stone in two weeks was just too much to resist. She needed a big start to her weight-loss campaign. And this was going to work, wasn’t it?

She printed
out a menu for the week. All you could eat was meat, fish, eggs and non-fat dairy stuff, which sounded great. Plain bacon in the morning would be weird without buttered bread, but she normally skipped breakfast anyway.

By lunchtime Violet was ravenous. She’d already had her New You! cereal bar but that barely touched the hunger inside. What was she supposed to eat? So she went into McDonald’s
and had a double burger but discarded everything apart from the meat. The bun and salad went in the bin. Yet she was starving that afternoon so she had her shake as well.

Dinner that evening was a bit more of a problem.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Sebastian, leaning against the kitchen door and watching her.

‘I’m looking for something to eat,’ she told him, closing the fridge door. She took
a deep breath. ‘I’m sort of trying a carb-free diet for a week.’

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Why?’

‘I told you. I want to lose weight for the wedding.’

He gently shoved her to one side and opened up the fridge door. ‘Great,’ he said, before straightening up. ‘Let’s have a fry-up.’

So they had fried eggs, bacon and sausages. She wasn’t sure if that was strictly within the diet but it sounded close
enough. Sebastian wolfed down two slices of bread and butter but Violet just about managed to resist the temptation.

Think of being skinny, she told herself. Think of the
wedding
dress. Think how wonderful you and Sebastian will look together once you’re no longer fat.

The following day, she followed the same diet of no breakfast, burger but no bun and a fry-up of steak and eggs. That night
Sebastian added chips to his plate. Violet’s mouth was salivating but still she held firm.

Violet had begun to suffer with headaches. And she wasn’t the only one. Wendy was moaning as Julie handed her some paracetamol.

‘It’s no wonder you feel crap,’ she barked at Wendy. ‘You’re not eating properly.’

‘I am.’

‘Of course you’re not. You had a single chicken breast for lunch.’

Wendy gulped down
some pills and water. ‘I’ll be fine. As soon as the protein hits the fat in my body then I’ll start losing weight. It’s all very scientific.’

Julie gave a snort and went back behind her computer monitor.

Wendy leant across to whisper at Violet, ‘James told me I have the breath to kill six rhinos this morning.’

Violet gave her a small smile and wondered whether Sebastian would feel her breath
was smelly too.

She was starving by the time she reached home. Sebastian suggested another fry-up. Violet nearly wept. She was overdosing on protein. She needed carbohydrates, had to have them. Plus she hadn’t been to the loo properly for days. She felt weird, weak and a bit sick. Her body felt alien. Something had to give.

So she waited patiently until Sebastian went for a shower later on.
She stayed still until she heard him step into the bath and switch the water on. Then she ran into the kitchen and wolfed down a huge bowl of
cornflakes
. It was glorious, even better once she’d added the sugar on top. As she heard him come out of the bathroom, she quickly washed the bowl up and put it back in the cupboard. He was none the wiser.

But the guilt was huge when she saw Wendy the next
day. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stick to any diet?

‘Hi,’ said Wendy in a small voice. ‘I failed my diet.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Violet, relief flooding through her. ‘What happened?’

‘We had a curry.’

‘I think it’s only the sauce that’s fattening.’

‘What about the large rice and two peshwari naan breads? All to myself.’ She gave a loud sigh. ‘I just couldn’t do it any more. And nor
could James. He said he didn’t know what was worse, my breath or my wind. It had to be the constipation that made it so bad.’

Violet noticed Anthony quickly left his desk again.

Later that evening, alone in the house, Violet ate a massive bowl of pasta. She ate and ate until her stomach screamed at her to stop. It was wonderful. Her body was craving carbohydrates like a starved maniac. As she
waited for the water to boil, she wolfed down a couple of pieces of bread and butter.

Another diet, another failure. Perhaps it was time to go back to the shakes and cereal bars. And this time they would work. Hopefully.

KATHY STARED AT
the tiny figurines.

She had been scrabbling around in the back of one of the kitchen cupboards, trying to find her sieve. Her intention had been to make a healthy banana loaf but all ideas of baking were forgotten once her fingers touched the small tin. She drew it down from the shelf and took it into the lounge.

Kathy sank on to the sofa with a sigh. She knew
what was inside. She knew it would upset her to look at them. But she couldn’t stop herself.

She lifted the tin lid and stared down. There was a clay Father Christmas and Snowman both looking a little grubby and well used. The Happy Christmas plastic sign was very worn too.

The decorations had been used on top of her family’s Christmas cake for as long as Kathy could remember. As a child, she
remembered being allowed to stir the cake mixture in the big bowl before her mother poured it into the baking tin. She could still imagine that
gorgeous
smell wafting through the house as the cake firmed up in the oven.

As an adult, Kathy had taken over the mantle of making the Christmas cake after her father had died. Under her mother’s guidance, Kathy would bake and decorate the cake. Some
years her mother would remember it was Christmas. Some years she would look at Kathy vaguely for clarification. But Kathy continued baking the cake, year after year, determined that the family tradition wouldn’t die out.

Even the last Christmas, when her mother was in hospital, Kathy had still made the cake and taken it in with her to show her mother. That was the day she found her mother had
lost consciousness. The day the doctor had told her that she would probably never get up again. Two days after Boxing Day, she died.

Kathy stared down at the figurines. Who was there for her to bake for now? Who would know about the silly tradition apart from her? Maybe she wouldn’t bother next time. After all, it was only she that would know.

Each special day was hard to get through. The first
Mother’s Day. The first Easter. And now it was her mother’s birthday. Kathy had felt so low that she couldn’t even face Mavis and the shop so she phoned in sick. Mavis was so kind and concerned that it made Kathy feel even worse.

Kathy had planned to stay in all day but the figurines had changed all that. Now she knew what she had to do.

She made the long drive in her car back to her old home
town. Along the way, she picked up a small posy of flowers. She parked the car and took the short walk to her mother’s grave in the cemetery. She placed
the
flowers next to the headstone and stared down at the ground for a while before straightening up.

She walked to a nearby bench and sat down, trying not to cry. She was so low, so grief-stricken. And the only person who would have been any
help right now was her lovely mum. It felt a very long time since her mother had held her, had hugged her. Since anyone had held her, she realised.

There had been a few low-life boyfriends but nobody special. Initially they were all attracted by the jolly fat woman with the cheeky smile and bright brown hair. But it was exhausting being amusing all the time. Sometimes Kathy just wanted to sit
quietly and not have to be on show.

She stayed on the bench in the graveyard for a long time. So long that the time ran away with her and she realised that she probably wouldn’t be home in time to go to the diet club that evening. Not that Kathy cared. Missing one week wouldn’t make any difference.

The way she felt, nothing was going to make any difference to her life. She sat on the bench until
darkness fell and then made the long drive home.

Maggie had been trying really hard to stay on the shakes and bars. Honest, she had. The trouble was, by the time she got to the afternoon she felt ill and exhausted, with a hideous headache.

According to the New You! booklet, the first fortnight was supposed to be tough. It was meant to be an extreme detox to cleanse the body of its evils and
get it ready for all the healthy stuff ahead. The cereal bars and shakes were full of nutritious goodness to help the body.

‘Rubbish,’ muttered Maggie, clutching her head.

She even lay down on the bed, holding her stomach and willing it to stay calm. This was good. Hunger was good. She had all these extra fat reserves waiting to be used up. Her body could cope with a little starvation. Her stomach
howled in fury.

But it was no use. Maggie couldn’t settle. So at four o’clock, she headed back downstairs and wolfed down half a loaf of bread. Then she went into the lounge and sank on to the sofa in carbohydrate-induced delirium.

It had been the same routine nearly every day. Starve then binge. Repeat daily until the next weigh-in.

Trouble was, the next weigh-in was that evening. Maggie couldn’t
care less. Not only did she have the headache from hell, she was also bent double with hideous period pains. The last couple of months, her period had been really heavy.

Then, as she was staggering around the supermarket the previous day, Maggie had had her first hot flush. Standing in the bread aisle, she was suddenly aware of a deep heat glowing from her face, neck and chest. She had to fan
herself with a magazine to stop herself from passing out. In the end, she went to the freezer section and stood by the open freezer chests to cool herself down.

So that was it. The menopause was on its way. Just the night sweats, mood changes and lack of sex to look forward to. Maggie sighed. Not that she and Gordon had any kind of sex life these days. A quick cuddle at the weekend, if she was
lucky. But more often than not they couldn’t be bothered.

At least she had already achieved the maximum weight gain. She hoped.

*

Lucy had had a terrible day at college. Nothing went right. The lack of calories during the day was making her brain fuzzy. She’d screwed up design after design, nothing being good enough. It was rubbish.

She hadn’t heard from St Martins so the lecturer had obviously
been lying to her, trying to make her believe that she was good enough when she really wasn’t.

To top it all, she had run into Nicola Bowles and the gang on the way home. If only she had enough money to buy a car, then she could drive past them and never have to meet them in the street. But no, she had to travel on the bus and the gang were always hanging around the bus stop near the local shops.

They were laughing hysterically at something as Lucy got off the bus. She was certain it was her.

‘Hey, Fatso!’ yelled Nicola. ‘Saw your mum today. Runs in the family, does it? Being fat bitches?’

Lucy felt a sting of hatred shoot through her and tried to carry on walking. But the gang of girls blocked her path.

‘That’s right,’ sneered one of the girls. ‘I heard your momma’s so fat they had
to grease a doorframe and hold a Mars bar on the other side to get her through.’

The gang fell about laughing, screaming their glee in Lucy’s face.

‘Yeah,’ said another girl. ‘Your momma’s so fat that when she walked by my TV, I missed the
EastEnders
omnibus.’

More hysterical laughter followed. Lucy tried to change direction but they blocked her path once more.

‘Your momma’s so fat, even Dora
can’t bloody explore her,’ said another girl who was pushing a pram.

The young mum was still thinner than her, Lucy thought.

Then Nicola Bowles stepped right up so her face was close to Lucy’s.

‘Your momma’s so fat, she died. Or she will do if she don’t get her stomach stapled. Or is that you? Are you the one who needs one of them gastric bands, you fat bitch?’

Lucy’s anger boiled over and
she gave Nicola a large shove to move her out of the way.

‘Ooooh!’ the gang cooed as she strode away from them.

Lucy half ran up the road, praying that they wouldn’t follow her. That they wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face.

She slammed the front door shut behind her and stalked into the lounge, where she found her mum sprawled on the sofa. For a second, she thought Nicola’s prediction
had come true and her mother had passed away. Then she saw Maggie move and realised she just been asleep.

‘What’s with you?’ Lucy snarled, hating both herself and her mother for being so weak.

‘Don’t feel very well, love.’ Maggie was struggling to sit up.

‘Aren’t you going to that diet club tonight?’

Maggie cleared her throat. ‘Not sure I’ll be up to it. What about you?’

‘Don’t bloody care,’
said Lucy. ‘Stupid bloody diet doesn’t work anyway.’

She stomped upstairs and threw her college bag down on the bedroom floor. Once the door was firmly closed, she drew out a box of doughnuts and bit into one. She had to have calories. She was starving.
Besides
, it didn’t sound as if her mum was going tonight and there was no way she was going to see that Trudie on her own.

She switched on her
TV and pushed in a DVD to watch. She watched Jennifer Aniston bounce around the screen for a while before throwing the remote across the room in despair. Stupid bloody actresses. Why couldn’t she look like them? Eat like them? What was wrong with her?

Lucy hid the empty doughnut box underneath her bed. Later on, she would creep downstairs to hide the evidence in the bottom of the wheelie bin.

Edward’s department had just signed a big deal for a new computer system. The IT sales guys wanted to take them out for a couple of drinks to celebrate. He didn’t mind. His social life started and ended with the cricket club. Apart from that, Edward spent his time on the sofa with his beloved Sky+ box.