The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (20 page)

Terracotta pots, in all shapes and sizes, filled every wall, spreading into the middle until they
reached a round iron table and chairs. In the middle of the table were a bunch of sweet peas in a jam jar being used as a vase.

‘It’s beautiful,’ stammered Violet, hardly believing that five minutes previously she had been in an air-conditioned office. Now she had been transported into a beautiful courtyard.

‘Nonna likes to have as many pots as she can.’

‘Nonna?’

‘She’s the lady who greeted
me.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Let me get this right. She’s my mother’s cousin’s mother. Is that right? Yes. I think so. Everyone in the family just calls her Nonna.’

Mark sat down at the iron table and gestured for Violet to do the same.

‘Who was Gino?’ she asked.

‘Nonna’s husband. Their son, Gino Junior, runs the café. Nonna’s come over from Italy to help out for a while.’

‘So you’re Italian?’

‘Half. My mother was Italian. My father is English. Hence the Marco. And the Mark, I suppose.’

‘And your parents live here in England?’

His handsome face dropped. ‘My mother passed away a couple of years ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Violet.

‘Thank you. My father is still alive but he spends most of his time in Italy. As did I when I was growing up.’

He was so relaxed, so completely different to
the man in the office. Violet wanted to ask him more but didn’t want to be too intrusive.

Nonna came into the courtyard with a tray of drinks. Mark quickly stood up and took them from her. She gave Violet a nod and a smile as she sat down next to Mark.

‘
Bella signorina
,’ she said, before giving Mark a wink.

She then rattled off a couple of sentences in Italian. She was obviously talking about
Violet, who looked at Mark for clarification.

‘She thinks you have a beautiful face but very sad eyes.’

Violet blushed pink and hoped they wouldn’t see in the sunlight.

Nonna suddenly pointed at Violet’s engagement ring and shook her head.

Mark raised his eyebrows at her and Nonna explained herself to him in Italian, gesticulating at the ring and shaking her head again.

They both turned to
look at Violet.

‘What is it?’ asked Violet.

‘It’s nothing,’ he told her with a small shrug. ‘She just doesn’t think emeralds are a good idea for engagement rings. Says they’re bad luck.’

Violet gulped. Was it true?

Mark shook his head at her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s just superstitious rubbish, I’m sure.’

Then he rattled off a few sentences of his own in Italian and Violet found herself trying
not to melt in lust. She had always found Italian to be the sexiest language to listen to. Her whole life she had wanted to go to Italy but had never yet had the opportunity. Or the courage.

Once he had finished talking, Nonna turned to Violet and smiled. She patted her hand and then slowly stood up and went back into the kitchen.

Violet looked at Mark. ‘What did you tell her?’

He stretched
out in the warm sun like a cat and she found she couldn’t stop herself staring at his lithe body.

‘I told her you were trying to lose weight but that you’ve been eating rubbish and I want her to show you how to eat properly.’

Violet found herself snapping, ‘Do you think I got to this size by not knowing about food?’

‘Not real food, from what I’ve seen. Food should be enjoyable. Rich in colour.
Full of flavour. Are you telling me those horrible crackers, milkshakes and all those other things I’ve watched you eat are any of those things?’

Violet didn’t reply.

‘I thought not. Sit. Enjoy. Learn.’

And then he was silent. And so was Violet. It was mortifying to have been dragged out there like a child,
no
matter what his intention was. How dare he teach her about food?

Violet sat and
tried to sulk for a few minutes but it was impossible. She could smell the flowers and herbs from the nearby pots. Bumble bees were buzzing about from flower to flower. The sun was beating down and it was just far too glorious a day to be sulking.

In the end she turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth on her skin.

Eventually Nonna returned and placed a plate in front
of her. It had two pieces of bread in the middle, surrounded by some salad leaves.

‘
Bruschetta
,’ said Nonna and pointed at the bread topped with tomatoes. ‘
Classica
.’ Then she pointed at the one topped with black goo. ‘
Con crema di olive
.’

Violet glanced at Mark’s plate which appeared to be a massive helping of meats and salad.

‘Antipasto,’ Mark told her.

‘
Buon appetito
,’ said Nonna and patted
Violet on the hand once more before disappearing.

Violet looked at Mark, not sure what to do.

‘You heard the woman,’ he said. ‘Eat.’

So Violet took a small bite out of the classic bruschetta. And her taste buds exploded. There were basil and tomatoes and perhaps a touch of garlic. It was like an release of summer into her mouth. It was spectacular.

She glanced up at Mark.

‘Good, eh?’ he said,
tucking into his lunch.

Violet nodded and tried the olive bruschetta. It was just as good but completely different. Less grassy, more salty. But she couldn’t work out what the taste was.

‘It’s the capers,’ Mark told her.

Violet didn’t care what it was. It was fantastic. She
found
herself trying to slow down but she couldn’t help but wolf down the food until the plate was empty. Even the lettuce
leaves tasted different – peppery. It was all wonderful.

Then she sat back and stared at the empty plate. The guilt had begun. Nothing that tasty could be healthy. No way. She’d just wrecked her diet.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Mark. ‘Didn’t you like it?’

‘It was fantastic,’ she told him.

‘So why do you look like you’re going to cry?’

She hesitated and then remembered he’d seen her crying
and snatching chocolate cake out of his hands. What the hell, she thought.

‘Because I’ve just ruined my diet,’ she told him.

‘Haven’t you been listening?’ he said. ‘This is good stuff. Fresh and full of vitamins and nutritional stuff. It’s healthy. Trust me. How do you think I stay so trim when I eat here all the time?’

She stole a glance at his flat stomach before looking away.

‘Look, I didn’t
bring you back here to wreck your diet,’ he told her. ‘Just to show you that food can be delicious. And enjoyable. Italian food isn’t all heavy cheese and pizza, you know.’

Violet didn’t reply. Her mind was racing with thoughts of the new Mark. And with the concept of the healthy but tasty food.

‘What area do your family come from?’ Violet asked, desperate to change the subject.

‘A small village
in the hills near Sorrento.’

She couldn’t stop a sigh from escaping her lips. ‘I was hoping to go to Sorrento for my honeymoon. But it’s the wrong time of year.’

‘When do you get married?’

‘New Year’s Eve.’

‘You’re right. You want to go now or in early autumn.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going there in August to stay with the family. There’s always a big crowd during the summer holidays.’

Italy had
always been a dream. But they couldn’t go in January. And Sebastian had already decided on the Caribbean. He had booked for them to stay in a bland, massive complex which had everything from watersports to ten restaurants. Sebastian assured her that they didn’t need to leave the resort and see any more of the island, even though Violet would have quite liked to visit the local villages.

‘Couldn’t
you change the wedding date to keep your honeymoon?’

Violet shook her head.

‘Shame.’ Mark looked at her. ‘Nonna was right. You do have the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Maybe I’m just not happy with myself.’

‘You’re in love. You’re getting married. Doesn’t that make you happy?’

Violet nodded, trying to convince herself. ‘I will be once I’ve lost weight.’

He frowned.
‘So you think that once you’re thin, your life will be perfect?’

‘Of course.’

‘I see.’ His eyes devoured her face once more. ‘But remember, your eyes will be just as blue whether you’re big or small. I just hope they’re not as sad.’

Violet didn’t know what to reply to that so she stayed silent.

They left to go back to the office soon after. Mark
wouldn’t
accept any money for the food. Nonna
chatted away in Italian as they left. Violet smiled and nodded but didn’t understand a word. Except ‘
bella
’. But she thought that meant beautiful so that couldn’t be right.

Back at the office, Violet sat down at her desk, watching Marco head back into his office. Mark, not Marco, she quickly reminded herself. It must have been the hot sun muddling her.

Once she was home that evening, she went
straight for Isabella’s book. Her unexpected lunch with Mark had got her mind churning with all things Italian.

Violet had never finished the first chapter which was all about food. So she let Isabella enlighten her.

‘Food should be healthy and delicious,’ Isabella said. ‘Food should fit into your life. Not be a chore. But it should also give you pizzazz. Energy. Italians love their food and
they look marvellous because of it.’

Talk about bigging yourself up. Her mind briefly flitted to Mark’s smooth skin before tearing itself away again.

‘If you get hungry between meals, eat fruit. If you eat fatty rubbish, you will look terrible.’

Violet didn’t need to look at her skin to know how bad she looked.

‘Start with simple fresh foods and you cannot go wrong. Stock your pantry with
good quality pasta, olive oil, tomatoes, onions, garlic, lean meat, fish and seafood, and herbs like oregano, basil and parsley. Allow yourself a little parmesan but avoid the mozzarella.’

It all sounded a bit of a hassle. But it might be worth a try. After all, Italian food was fantastic. That smell in the delicatessen at lunchtime had been wondrous.

She got on the internet and downloaded a
couple of pasta recipes for future dinners before stumbling across pasta salads as well as rice salads. That would liven up her lunchtime menus.

But Violet realised she had to be careful with portion sizes. She measured out the specified amount of pasta for a typical dinner of 450 calories. And it wasn’t much. The portion sizes she had been giving herself before she had started losing weight
would have fed a whole family.

The following day, Violet stocked up at the supermarket once more. But this time, her trolley was stuffed with fruit and vegetables and not so much ready-made stuff. Plus lots of different ingredients for a bit of home cooking.

Once home, she started on a pasta recipe for dinner. It was quite simple, with just a tomato-based sauce but lots of garlic and basil to
bring out the flavours. She had forgotten the parmesan cheese for a quick covering but it was still tasty. Violet even felt quite impressed with herself.

The next evening, she cooked Sebastian a recipe for stuffed chicken breast.

‘What’s this?’ he said, swallowing hard.

It was a little dry, admittedly. But Violet didn’t think it was that bad.

‘Chicken stuffed with porcini mushrooms,’ she told
him.

‘Where’s the sauce?’

‘The recipe didn’t come with it.’

He made a face and pushed the food around on his plate.

‘Do you want some gravy?’ asked Violet.

‘Only to drown myself in.’

‘I’m trying to be healthy,’ she told him.

‘We’ve got to eat,’ he snapped back. ‘What’s the harm in a chicken kiev? Or a pizza?’

‘They’re both high in calories,’ she said. And fat. And everything else.’

‘I
keep telling you to stay the way you are. Just stop all this healthy-eating crap. It’s driving me mad.’

Sebastian loved her as she was. But Violet didn’t. It was a shock to realise that and even admit it to herself but it was true. She wanted to be thin. For herself.

For me, she told herself. Me. It wasn’t a word Violet used very often. But perhaps she should try to get used to it.

‘WOW,’ SAID VIOLET
to Edward as he sat down. ‘You’ve lost a stone in two weeks.’

They had just experienced another positive Tuesday night weigh-in. Trudie’s lip had curled into a self-satisfied smile, thinking it was all down to her dreadful bars and shakes. Nobody was willing to put her right.

Edward went a bit pink as he reached forward for his cup of tea but he was smiling.
‘Only seven more stone to go,’ he said.

‘Tell us your magic secret for losing seven pounds a week,’ said Maggie. ‘I only lost three.’

‘What do you mean you
only
lost three pounds?’ said Lucy, smiling at her mum. ‘I’m really proud of you. You’ve turned it round.’

‘Thanks, love.’

Maggie was secretly overjoyed. The food hadn’t tasted great but it had kept her going longer than the other faddy
foods she had tried.

But her biggest challenge wasn’t food. It was the fitness DVD she had bought. It ignited something deep
in
her. A passion to move her body. It was so hard that Maggie could still barely move to the music but she found she loved it. The music, the energy. She got a little further through the DVD each day. Next week, she was determined to get all the way through it without
needing a sit down.

Maggie thought that perhaps she wasn’t getting quite so out of breath when she walked up the stairs. It was a start.

‘Plus I’ve tidied the whole house,’ said Maggie, smiling.

‘It shut that witch Trudie up, didn’t it?’ said Lucy with an evil grin.

‘Yes,’ said Maggie. ‘But I need Edward to tell me his secret so I can figure out what to do next.’

‘First of all, I have the
most to lose out of all of us,’ said Edward. ‘So it’s going to come off the quickest. Second, I’ve joined the gym. I’ve been cycling and power walking every day for an hour and a half. I’m knackered but I tell you, I’ve never slept so well as this past week.’