The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (27 page)

She was going to be in London, to live in London – the coolest
city in the world! She would tone up by walking everywhere. There was so much to see. She wanted to look at the vintage fashion galleries in the Victoria and Albert Museum. She wanted to window shop down Bond Street and mooch through the thousands of departments in Selfridges. She wanted to walk across Abbey Road where the Beatles had stepped out before her. Lucy wanted to see it all.

As she
bounded off the train at Paddington, she glanced at her reflection in the window and was happy with herself. It was a nice feeling – a new feeling for her.

Her skin was so much clearer now that she was no longer eating all that junk food. And her hair had been given a new lease of life with two inches off the bottom. She no longer straightened it every day; the new cut had given her hair life
and movement. But Lucy still hadn’t been satisfied until she had dyed her dull brown hair. Now her burgundy red waves shone in the morning light.

She got on the tube to Charing Cross and managed to find a seat. She was staring around the carriage, trying to take it all in, when she locked eyes with a guy opposite her. He gave her a flirty smile as he got off at the next station. Lucy’s stomach
gave a little flutter. He had been eyeing her up, she was sure of it.

It made her a little sad to realise that he probably wouldn’t have been quite so flirty when she was larger. So many people noticed only the fat and not
the
person inside. These days she was no longer invisible.

Lucy had narrowly avoided Nicola Bowles and her gang as she walked to the station that morning. From the other side
of the street, they had done a double take at her new clothes and burgundy hair, even shouting out something about ‘tomato head’. But if that was the best they could come up with these days, Lucy found she didn’t care so much. She was travelling up to London to begin her studies at a fashion college. What were they going to do today that would even come close to that?

At Charing Cross, she walked
the short distance to the college. The reception hall was packed with newbies, all looking young and lost. Lucy joined the back of the queue to register herself. College was starting in a few weeks’ time but she was glad to get a good look around the place first.

The queue took an age to shuffle forward and it had been a long time since her early breakfast so Lucy grabbed an apple out of her
bag and took a bite. The loud crunch caused the tall guy in front to turn around.

‘Smart move,’ he said, his voice revealing a soft American accent. ‘I forgot to bring anything with me.’

Lucy looked at him for a beat. Floppy dark hair almost covering grey-green eyes. A tall, strong body. A nice smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. A distressed denim jacket covered his T-shirt, which
was matched with beige cargo pants and trainers.

She rummaged about in her college bag and drew out a second apple. His eyebrows shot up as she handed it to him.

‘Thanks,’ he said, before taking a bite. ‘You starting a fruit stall in that bag of yours?’

She shook her head. ‘You’re American?’

‘Canadian. But I’ll let you off this time.’ He held out his hand. ‘Todd Carter.’

‘Lucy Walsh.’

‘What
are you studying, Lucy Walsh?’

She liked the way he said her name. ‘Fashion design. You?’

‘Industrial design.’

‘Sounds good.’

The queue kept shuffling forward as they learnt a bit more about each other. Yes, they were both staying in the halls of residence. No, neither of them knew London that well. Yes, they were both eighteen.

Lucy found herself relaxing in his company and on the hallowed
turf of her design college. She fitted in. She was OK. She was going to be just fine.

Maggie knew Lucy was getting home late from her induction day but she still felt nervous for her daughter. It was like the first day of school all over again.

She had managed to keep busy during the day. Maggie was particularly enjoying her afternoons now that she had started to jog during her walks. She had
built up to two minutes of walking to one minute of jogging. Maggie loved the feeling of getting fitter.

The door opened but it was only Gordon, filling the house with a certain, mouth-watering aroma.

‘I got a curry, love,’ he told her with a big smile. ‘For a treat.’

‘But we had a curry on Saturday night,’ she told him. ‘I was thinking of doing fish for dinner.’

‘We’re celebrating,’ he said.

‘Celebrating what?’ Maggie snapped. ‘Our obesity levels?’

Gordon frowned. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you these days. You’ve always got the right hump.’

Maggie sighed. ‘Sit down, love. We need to talk.’

‘What about my balti?’

‘Stuff the bloody balti!’ shouted Maggie.

Gordon sank on to one of the dining-room chairs, his eyes wide. They weren’t one of those couples that shouted. Or
really talked, Maggie realised.

Maggie took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t mean to shout,’ she told him. ‘But …’

Maggie’s voice trailed away as she realised Gordon’s lip was trembling and his eyes had filled with tears.

‘What is it?’ she said, kneeling in front of him.

‘You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’

Maggie was flabbergasted. ‘What? No! Of course I’m not.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I know the
signs. You’re bored and you’re losing weight. You’ve got another fella.’

‘Of course I haven’t,’ she told him.

‘But you’ve got your eye on someone.’

Maggie took a deep breath. ‘The only thing I’ve got my eye on right now are those poppadoms. But I need to lose weight.’

‘Then you’ll get thin and get a new man. It happened to a bloke in the pub.’

She took his hands in hers. ‘I don’t need a new
man. I’m happy with the one I’ve got.’

Gordon tried to smile but it was forced. He didn’t yet believe her, she realised.

‘I’m happy with you. I love you,’ she told him.

‘But you’ll get thin, attract all the men and then bugger off and leave me.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Maggie, realising for the first time that her husband could be as insecure as she was. ‘I’m just not happy within myself.’

‘Why not?’ asked her husband. ‘You’ve got a lovely house, our daughter’s got a bright future in front of her. You’ve got everything you wanted. You’re not going to stop eating altogether, are you? Some women get a bit obsessed that way.’

‘I am not an anorexic,’ cried Maggie. ‘I don’t have an eating disorder. I have diabetes!’

She took a deep breath in the silence that followed. Gordon was staring
at her in amazement.

‘The doctor says I’m morbidly obese. I’ve got diabetes and I have to sort myself out. Do you want me to end up like my mum? Always in and out of hospital?’

Gordon sank back in his chair in shock. ‘You never said.’

Maggie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Didn’t want to admit it, even to myself.’

‘So that’s why you’re off the takeaways?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve lost two and a half stone
with the help of my club. But that’s not enough. I need your support, love. I can’t do this on my own. I need to lose at least three more stone. I have to. I don’t want to be ill.’

Gordon studied his wife, taking in her beautiful blue eyes and stroking her soft cheek. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.’

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m not going anywhere, you big numpty.’

‘Can I
tell you something too?’ said Gordon,
suddenly
shuffling in his seat. ‘When I went to the doctors in the winter when I couldn’t shift that bad cough, he told me I had to lose weight as well.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘We just got lazy and didn’t take care of ourselves.’

‘Too busy bringing up kids and getting a business up and running.’ Gordon suddenly sat up straight in his chair. ‘Right. Well,
that’s changing from now on. No more takeaways. No more cakes and rubbish after tea in the evenings.’

‘It’s OK,’ Maggie told him. ‘I’ve got lots of recipes for some lovely meals. We won’t even realise that we’re eating healthy stuff, I promise. It doesn’t matter how long it takes for us to get these pounds off. Lucy’s already lost two stone. We can do this. We have to. But everything has to change.’

‘It will,’ he said, standing up and taking her with him.

They hugged for a long while, holding each other.

‘One more thing,’ said Maggie, looking up at him. ‘And don’t shout. I’m not doing it for the money but to help out a friend from my slimming club. I’m going to work in the Alzheimer’s charity shop during the week. I’ve got all that marketing experience from when we started the garage and
I thought it would help get some more money coming in for them.’

She waited for Gordon to blow his top but he didn’t. He eventually nodded and said, ‘OK then.’

‘And I want to go ballroom dancing again.’

Gordon’s eyebrows shot up.

‘I want to do something with you,’ Maggie told him. ‘I miss dancing with my husband.’

‘Me too,’ he told her, giving her a quick kiss.

They sat down at the table,
the takeaway laid out between them.

‘We’ll eat this but then that’s it,’ Maggie told him.

‘Last meal for the condemned man?’ said Gordon, before quickly adding, ‘Only joking, love.’

‘And I want to start going for a walk after dinner,’ Maggie said. ‘Just you and me. Not with the television on so we can’t talk. I want us talking. And some time alone with you.’

He reached over and took her hand.
‘I like the idea of alone time,’ said Gordon, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her.

‘Stop it, you fool,’ said Maggie, blushing.

But they were both smiling.

Edward was also enjoying himself. He was glad he had invited Kathy to the club after the cricket match on Sunday. They were sitting at the bar, both enjoying a gin and slimline tonic.

‘The lads took the mickey a bit about my new drink
regime,’ he was telling her. ‘But in the end they just got bored and started on someone else.’

‘You don’t care? About their mickey taking?’

Edward shook his head. ‘I’m not going to be bullied into doing something I don’t want to. If I want to be healthy, then I will be. Once I’ve set my mind on something, that’s it. I rarely waver.’

He had found that as he lost weight, his confidence had begun
to soar. Edward was actually beginning to like himself.

‘You don’t want to sell me some of that self-confidence, do you?’

Edward smiled at her. It was nice that she had finally dropped that forced jollity and was beginning to open up to him.

‘You’re doing just fine. Another three pounds off this week.’

Kathy nodded. ‘I’m too impatient, that’s my problem.’

‘It’ll be worth the wait,’ he told
her. ‘For both of us.’

He thought briefly about his family. His mum was thrilled at the change in him, going on about her ‘handsome boy’ and wanting to know all the details. His sisters were more interested in the girls in the weight-loss club and how often the name Kathy cropped up in his conversation. They were on full radar and it had got him thinking.

As the barmaid came to clear their glasses
away, he gave her a smile. ‘How are you, Meghan?’

‘I’m as fabulous as always,’ she told him, with a wink. ‘Though I’ve got to say, you’re starting to become a little more fabulous yourself.’

She ran a hand up his arm and he flexed the bicep that had begun to appear after his daily visits to the gym.

‘Hubba, hubba,’ she cooed. ‘You’re turning into quite a hunk, Edward.’

He smiled at the joke
and then across at Kathy but found she wasn’t smiling back at him.

All right, Kathy told Edward silently. You can stop dribbling into your drink now.

Men. They were all the same.

Why did she care anyway? It was only Edward. Edward whom she found herself thinking of most days – most hours, if truth be told.

She watched the barmaid sashay away from them, having neatly destroyed the cosy ambience
that had appeared during the past hour.

Kathy fixed on a smile and regaled Edward with the hilarious stories of Mavis’s last week at work. He laughed along with her, basking in her faked jolliness.

Kathy’s smile didn’t drop until she was home, alone once more.

BY EARLY SEPTEMBER
, Violet was feeling excited about how loose her trousers had become. She had now lost nearly two and a half stone.

She had mentioned to Sebastian about having to go down a dress size but he seemed reluctant for her to go out and spend lots of money on new clothes.

‘We’re spending enough on the wedding,’ he told her.

And who’s fault is that, Violet wanted
to reply.

‘But look at me!’ Violet said, holding out a vast expanse of waistband. ‘They barely stay up.’

‘You’ll probably put the weight back on,’ he snapped back.

Violet took in a sharp intake of breath and tried to hold back the tears. He was being so cruel. Did he not know how much this meant to her?

But suddenly Sebastian was holding her and saying sorry over and over.

‘I’m just so stressed
at the minute. Money’s really tight.’

Violet was still struggling not to cry. ‘But I thought you were going to make loads of money with that share-investment thing?’

He had mentioned a get-rich-quick scheme over the summer which Violet had thought sounded very dodgy. But, as usual, she had kept quiet.

‘It turns out it wasn’t quite such a sure thing as that,’ said Sebastian, looking sheepish.

‘Are you out of pocket?’

‘Only by twenty grand,’ he said.

Violet was horrified. It was so much money to waste. How could he have been so gullible?

‘Thank goodness our windfall comes in next year,’ he told her, suddenly breaking into a brilliant smile.

Violet smiled back but her heart wasn’t in it.

‘But that takes it down to a hundred thousand pounds,’ she said aloud. And that was without
the grand extravaganza of the wedding. What would be left to spend?

She hadn’t planned what she was going to do with her inheritance. Since when had it become
their
inheritance? Not that it really mattered, she supposed. Of course it would be theirs. They were going to be husband and wife. He was probably right about not wasting money on clothes.