The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (19 page)

She spent the evening looking through bridal magazines. But the models were all so thin, so elegant. So not how Violet felt. Everything was strapless, with a lot of skin on show. She felt terrified about having to expose that much of her body. Where were the dresses that
went from the neck all the way down to the ground? With added boning and built-in magic pants?

Violet had seen a large and swanky-looking bridal shop in the centre of town. So the following lunchtime, she went along and stared in at the window. The mannequins were dressed in swathes of ivory taffeta and big flounces. It wasn’t the style of wedding dress she had considered for herself but she
had to start somewhere.

Violet took a deep breath and went in.

The sales assistant sitting behind a desk looked up from her notepad. ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

Violet could feel the beads of nervous perspiration forming on her forehead and under her arms.

‘I’m getting married,’ she stammered. ‘And I was wondering if I could try on some dresses? To get an idea of what suits me.’

The assistant
was about to reply when someone else came through a curtain nearby. It was another bride-to-be coming out of the changing room. She was a Gwyneth Paltrow lookalike dressed in a slinky nightgown style. A posse of sales assistants cooed and fussed over her. She really did look sensational.

The woman behind the desk turned back to Violet.

‘You’ll need an appointment,’ she told her. Then she
looked
Violet up and down and lowered her voice. ‘But I’m not sure we have anything here that would suit you. Might I suggest Madame Pomfrey’s Bridal-wear across town? She caters for brides of larger sizes.’

Violet recoiled in horror, tears filling her eyes. She quickly fled the shop, renewed in her resolve to lose weight.

EDWARD WAS STRIDING
out on the running machine at a fast walking pace. There was no way he was up to running. He didn’t think his heart could take it. But he was power walking and although his pulse was racing, this time it was in a good way. At least he hoped it was.

He’d lost half a stone in a week. He couldn’t quite believe it. It had been easy. And cheaper now he wasn’t
buying takeaways every night. OK, so the meals weren’t exactly as tasty as a Chicken Dhansak with Bombay Potatoes and a couple of naan breads. But he could cope. For him it was a no-brainer.

He knew he had made a promise to his mum to get better but he actually needed to do it for himself. He didn’t want to feel ill any longer. He wanted to have energy, a bit of get-up-and-go inside. If he was
ever lucky enough to find himself a girlfriend, it would be nice to think that they could do things together, other than sitting on the sofa eating themselves into oblivion.

Edward found he hadn’t really missed alcohol for
the
past two weeks. He knew he would have to be careful when he began to drink again but for now he was coping. It hadn’t been as hard as he had imagined.

Routine helped,
he found. He would have cereal for breakfast, then go to work and have a ready-made sandwich for lunch. Some fruit in between meals if he was feeling hungry. Then home via the gym.

A gym bunny was running on the machine next to him. She was in tight Lycra shorts and a teeny top. He glanced over as her ponytail swung back and forth. Her make-up was still immaculate even though she had been running
for ten minutes. Edward considered her to be too high-maintenance. He liked normal women. He wanted somebody with whom he could laugh and whose company he could enjoy without worrying that he wasn’t wearing the latest shirt. Someone he could go for long walks with without having them moan that their high heels were stuck in a muddy field.

He knew he had a way to go before he was up to any kind
of long walk. But since joining, he had been to the gym every night after work. It wasn’t about getting his money’s worth. It was what Violet had said earlier in the week. Something had clicked inside his head.

Determination had set in. He had had enough of feeling ill. He wanted more from life.

And this time he had decided he was going to get everything he had dreamed of.

Lucy was on top of
the world. Not only had she lost four pounds in a week but she had also received a letter the previous day telling her that she had been
accepted
at CSM in the autumn. It was a provisional place but if her A-level results were OK she was on her way. She was thrilled.

She had looked up the college a thousand times on the internet. Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design had a reputation
for being one of the leading design colleges in the world. And it was in London. How cool was that? She would be studying fashion in the fashion capital of the world.

Unlike this dump, thought Lucy as she stared around the shoe shop where she worked every Thursday evening and all day on Saturday. She didn’t think Manolo Blahnik was quaking at the competition. It was a small shop which sold really
cheap shoes. But at least it gave her a bit of extra money each week.

She spotted Nicola Bowles and her gang hanging about outside and quickly scuttled into the back room. You’re not hiding, Lucy told herself while she tried to control her breathing. You’re just avoiding a confrontation, that’s all.

She peeked out through the doorway but the gang had moved on. Lucy sighed with relief before
telling herself to get a grip. She only had three months left of torture and then she would be free of the shop, of the town but, most of all, free from the bullying.

She would swagger up and down Bond Street and Oxford Street, in her element because London would become her city.

And she would be thin. In her mind’s eye, as she imagined herself wandering the corridors of the fashion college
and bumping into Stella McCartney, she was thin. Thin and happy.

Lucy bit down on her apple. No more chocolate bars
or
crisps to snack on. She had her goal. And she was going to achieve it.

Maggie was delighted for her daughter.

‘I’m so proud of you, love,’ she said after Lucy had bounced into the kitchen with the offer letter from CSM.

But now it was Friday morning and Maggie was alone once
more. On Violet’s advice she had cleaned the house from top to bottom. Once she had done that, Maggie had turned out every drawer and cupboard in her kitchen and organised those too. Anything to stick to her calorie ration and not to binge.

Lucy had made both of them lunch. Since her mother’s confession at the diet club, Lucy had tried to make some of her determination rub off on Maggie. So,
in the fridge for lunch was a ham and salad sandwich. Lucy had placed a banana and an apple next to it and told her mother, ‘That’s all you’re eating until I get back from college.’

Maggie was determined not to let her daughter down.

In the end, to fill the next hour, she watched the exercise DVD once more. This time, she joined in. She put on the normal tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt she wore
to Trudie’s class and drew the curtains. This was a sight that the neighbours shouldn’t be privy to.

It was dreadful. Worse than dreadful. Maggie ended up marching on the spot whilst the beautiful people in the DVD bounced around without a drop of sweat on their perfect bodies.

Maggie tried to keep to the beat of the thumping music but she felt hopelessly uncoordinated and old. Really old. Nevertheless,
she stayed with the
programme
to the very end, if only to use up some of her endless spare time.

It took another hour for Maggie to recover, lying down on the sofa. Eventually she dragged herself upstairs and changed into her normal clothes.

As she came back downstairs, Maggie eyed the bags in the hallway. Some were destined for the charity shop. Perhaps she could take them to Kathy’s shop.
Others were for the dump.

She looked at them and sighed. At least it would give her something else to do.

Kathy was still waiting for her moment of diet revelation. She was wondering whether it would ever come. Everyone else was doing so well, she thought. Well, perhaps not Maggie, but Lucy, Edward and Violet were all losing weight.

But Lucy had her mother, Edward had a wide social circle and
Violet had her fiancé. Kathy was alone. And lonely.

Even the shop didn’t help. Mavis was beginning to slow down as she approached retirement and now only worked two days a week. Kathy found she even missed Mavis’s chatter during the day. There seemed to be no difference between her lonely flat and the empty shop.

The bell rang as the door swung open. Kathy looked up and saw Maggie staggering
through with a couple of dustbin liners.

‘Hi,’ said Maggie. ‘Do you need some more stuff to sell?’

‘Always,’ said Kathy, fixing on a grin and heading across the shop to help with the bags.

Maggie handed over the bulging bin liners.

‘It’s all good stuff,’ she told Kathy. ‘Mainly kitchen bits that I’ve never used. You know, those gadgets that are supposed to make your life easier but end up
cluttering up the drawers and cupboards.’

‘I know,’ said Kathy. ‘That’s great, thanks.’

Maggie looked around the shop. ‘Pretty quiet today,’ she said.

Kathy nodded. ‘Afraid so,’ she said. ‘Business isn’t very brisk.’

‘Shame really,’ said Maggie. ‘There aren’t any other decent charity shops nearby so you think people would come in.’

‘I know,’ replied Kathy.

‘It needs a better sign outside,’
said Maggie. ‘And brighter windows too. I thought the place was closed down when I first saw it.’

Kathy nodded. The whole place needed overhauling.

‘Must be difficult when it’s so quiet,’ said Maggie. ‘I find if I’m not busy, I end up eating everything in sight.’

‘Me too,’ agreed Kathy.

‘Hence the clearout,’ Maggie told her. ‘Once I’ve finished in the lounge this afternoon, I’m moving on to
the airing cupboard, our bedroom and then the loft.’

‘I find myself dusting shelves just to relieve the boredom,’ said Kathy.

‘It’s such a shame you don’t get much business. It’s a good-sized shop,’ said Maggie. ‘Mind you, I didn’t know it was here until you told me.’

‘I know,’ said Kathy. ‘We’re stuck down a side street which nobody seems to use. It’s not a great position.’

‘Will it have
to close if business carries on being so quiet?’

Kathy nodded. ‘We only just cover the rent at the
moment
.’ She put on another bright smile. ‘But I’m sure your kitchen gadgets will draw in the crowds.’

Maggie smiled back but left soon after.

Kathy didn’t want to think about the future if she didn’t even have the shop to go to. She had enough trouble with the hours in the day as it was. She
found herself emailing or texting Violet quite a bit. Misery loves company or safety in numbers, she wasn’t sure which. She knew she was probably being a pain but the contact helped.

Kathy didn’t want to let the group down but she wasn’t really eating that well and knew the next weigh-in would show it.

VIOLET WAS ACTUALLY
beginning to find work a little more enjoyable.

With her new laptop on the desk, it meant that, between calls, she was able to learn about the different software packages. It was great to be able to use her brain.

Unfortunately though, the lunches were becoming monotonous. She stared at her crackers and sighed. She didn’t know what else to do, but something
had to give. Otherwise she would go crackers herself.

‘I’m just popping out for some lunch,’ she told Anthony.

There had to be something more appetising to eat than those bloody dry biscuits. She wandered the streets for a short while but didn’t fancy mass-produced sandwiches. The greasy smell of a burger joint hung in the air but she quickly walked in the opposite direction.

Finding herself
in a part of town that she normally didn’t visit, she suddenly breathed in the heady smell
of
garlic and spices. Something smelt wonderful. She took a left up a small alleyway, following her nose.

The wonderful aromas were coming from a tiny Italian delicatessen called Gino’s. It must have expanded its trade at some point because it also seemed to serve coffee and food. Gino’s was packed with
lunchtime diners. Suited businessmen and -women filled the small number of tables and chairs. Others had spilled on to the tables in the street to bask in the June sunshine.

Violet felt warm in her black suit and top but her stomach was rumbling too much for her to care. Everything looked so delicious. She stared at the food on display, wondering what was healthy and how everything would taste.
She must have stood there for some time until a familiar voice spoke.

‘Now this is real food.’

She turned to find herself face to face Mark Harris, her boss.

‘Much tastier than that rubbish you’ve been eating,’ he told her, smiling.

Violet’s mouth had gone dry. What was he doing here?

Then came a shriek of ‘Marco!’ from the other side of the counter.

A wizened, older woman of about eighty
years old was carving her way through the crowds towards them.

‘Ciao!’ she said, coming to stand next to Mark.

Violet stared in amazement as he bent double to get his cheek close enough for her to kiss.

Then Mark began to speak. In Italian. And Violet’s stomach did a backflip. It was as if he were another man. And she realised ‘Marco’ was stressed-out, scary
Mark
Harris. And that muttering
he had been doing under his breath in the unintelligible language was Italian.

She looked at him properly for the first time and realised that, with his dark hair and green eyes, he could be Italian. And that the summer sunshine was beginning to turn his skin darker.

He caught her staring and smiled. ‘Come with me,’ he said.

Feeling she hadn’t much choice if she wanted to keep her job, Violet
followed him through the crowd and into the back kitchen. But he carried on walking until they found themselves in a small courtyard.

It was hemmed in by four walls, covered with plants scrambling up to the sky. Few windows overlooked the garden. The walls were trapping the heat of the midday sun.