The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (28 page)

So the following morning, she fastened the waistband
of her trousers with a safety pin and tried to flatten the folds of material that bunched around her stomach.

Anyway, she didn’t have time to think about money. The hotline calls were now coming thick and fast and Violet was dealing with about a third of them, without having to pass them on to other members of the department. She was learning to recognise people’s voices
and
what kind of problems
they were most likely to be getting. She loved dealing with people after years spent pushing paper at the accountants.

Mark called her into his office later that week. He had only come back from his holiday the previous weekend and his skin was still golden. It made his eyes look even greener than usual.

‘Sit down,’ he told her. ‘You’re handling more of the calls, I notice.’

‘Not too many,’
Violet said quickly.

He smiled. ‘You’re not in trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking. The others have all been praising you.’

Violet raised her eyebrows in surprise.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Even Julie.’

She was thrilled.

He sat back in his chair, enjoying her pleased reaction. ‘Nonna tells me you were in the deli quite a bit whilst I was away.’

‘Only a couple of times,’ said Violet, hoping
he didn’t think she was stalking him. ‘I needed some cheese and figured they would have the tastiest.’

‘How did you two get on?’

‘A lot of hand gestures and miming,’ she replied.

He smiled. ‘Well, you must be doing something right. My customers keep telling me how helpful you are. My staff do likewise. Even Nonna’s on your side. She says your accent is excellent.’

‘How was Italy?’ she asked,
desperate to change the subject.

‘Lovely,’ he told her. ‘You should go, especially right now. The sky is so blue.’ He looked at her for a beat. ‘Same colour as your eyes, I realised when I was out there,’ he added.

Violet blushed. Embarrassed at the unexpected
compliment
, she quickly stood up to make a speedy exit. Alas, it wasn’t quick enough. Under the swift movement, the safety pin gave way
and sent her trousers down around her ankles.

Mortified, Violet snatched the material to make herself decent once more.

‘So you do striptease as well?’ said Mark, now grinning. ‘Now I can see why you’re so popular.’

Violet fled out of the office, clutching at her trousers. But not quick enough to avoid the sound of Mark chuckling. She was so embarrassed. And angry. He must have thought she
was an idiot.

That night at home, Violet took the hall mirror down from the wall and brought it upstairs to her bedroom where, with the curtains shut, she let the trousers fall to her ankles.

She thanked God for the small mercy that her long black top hid most of her torso and thighs. But what if it had ridden up slightly? Would Mark Harris have had a glimpse of her big, baggy, black knickers?
Oh Lord.

She was cross that she had embarrassed herself. And angry at Sebastian for not letting her buy any new clothes. But Sebastian was away that weekend playing golf, and she couldn’t keep letting her clothes fall down in public. She needed to buy some new trousers, if only for decency’s sake.

But shopping for clothes had always been a nerve-racking experience. Violet had always picked up
clothes and paid for them without trying them on first. There was no way she was brave enough to face any changing-room trauma.

She needed help. So she took a deep breath and
texted
the girls. ‘Does anybody want to go clothes shopping with me tomorrow?’

Maggie, Lucy and Kathy all replied in the affirmative and they met up in the morning for a pre-shop skinny latte.

Violet told them about her
trouser-dropping experience and they all squealed with laughter. In the end, she had to join in. Perhaps it was a little bit funny.

‘Where do you want to go for a new pair?’ asked Kathy.

‘I normally go to Preston’s,’ Violet told them in a small voice.

The others exchanged a look.

‘Their clothes are, like, soooo old,’ Lucy told her.

‘Even I wouldn’t shop in there,’ said Maggie. ‘And I’ve got
twenty years on you.’

Preston’s was the shop where Violet normally got her clothes. It was a place for ladies who were advanced in age as well as measurements. The clothes were dull and plain. And suited her just fine, or so she had thought.

‘Haven’t you ever been to Evans?’ asked Kathy.

Violet shook her head.

‘At least their stuff is up to the minute,’ said Lucy. ‘Even if it is for us porkers.’

‘Hey!’ said Maggie. ‘Not quite so porky these days, if you don’t mind.’

With nearly three stone gone from her body, Maggie was finding bones and muscles she had forgotten existed.

‘You’re right,’ Lucy told her. ‘I’m almost a size ten these days. Top Shop all the way for me.’

Violet let them lead the way into Evans. She realised that, despite their similar weight issues, the other
women
were
always dressed more fashionably than she was. But she was still riddled with nerves.

They headed into the shop and immediately everyone was cooing over various garments. Violet spotted a smart black trouser suit which was very reasonable in price.

‘Would you like to try that on?’ asked one of the shop assistants.

Violet nodded. The others were still ploughing through the clothes rails so she
followed the lady into the changing room which was thankfully separated into single cubicles.

She changed out of her elasticated, baggy tracksuit bottoms and tried on the trousers. But something was wrong. Violet finally glanced at myself in the mirror and realised the trousers were far too big.

‘How are you getting on in there?’

It was Kathy who had suddenly appeared outside the cubicle.

‘I think they’re the wrong size,’ Violet told her.

‘Can I come in?’

So Kathy came in and looked at the enormous trousers.

‘I’m normally a size twenty,’ Violet told her. ‘I must have picked up the wrong size.’

‘But that swimsuit we got you at the beach was a size eighteen. You’ve got to remember you’re losing weight now!’ chuckled Kathy. ‘I’ll get you the right size.’

And she disappeared again.

Violet found herself frowning at her reflection. A size eighteen? Was it so hard to believe?

The size-eighteen trousers not only fitted but were a bit loose. But she wasn’t mentally ready for a size
sixteen
yet. Violet also had to try on a smaller jacket as the original one swamped her.

She was still admiring her new form in the mirror when Lucy asked to come in.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Tell me
to bog off if you think I’m being bossy but these tops would go great with your skin. Do me a favour and try them on. Please?’

Lucy held out a couple of bright garments. Violet felt she had no choice but to take them. Then the curtain swished closed once more.

Violet stared at the tops. One in particular caught her eye more than the others. It was a plain turquoise top with a small ruffle down
the front. It was the colour that stole her heart. Surely it was too bright for her to get away with?

But she couldn’t stop her hand from reaching out towards the top. She slid off the jacket and her baggy T-shirt and pulled the turquoise top over her head. She had just put the jacket back on when Lucy begged to come in.

‘Oh my God!’ she squealed. ‘I knew it! I knew that was the colour for you.’

Violet slowly turned round to face the mirror, expecting to experience the normal sinking feeling. But it didn’t come. Lucy was right. The turquoise suited her. It was such a change from her normal black that she couldn’t believe it was her.

Now Kathy had joined them. ‘Wow! You look great! You’ve got to get that!’ she said.

And Violet found herself nodding along in agreement.

Maggie appeared
holding another couple of tops, one pink and the other navy striped. So Violet tried
those
on as well. In the end, she bought all three tops plus the trouser suit.

The tops were half price in the summer sale so she didn’t feel quite so guilty over the money. Why should she feel guilty anyway? Sebastian would never see her work clothes so he wouldn’t have to know.

‘We’ve bought loads of new stuff
from Primark,’ said Lucy. ‘You should go in there.’

‘We didn’t want to spend too much money. Especially if we’re going to drop another dress size,’ said Maggie.

‘Which we are,’ said Lucy.

‘Definitely,’ said Kathy.

Everyone was pleased with themselves that Saturday.

Back home, Violet checked Isabella’s thoughts on style, which was Rule Number Three in the book.

‘Only ever wear clothes that
you love. Take pride in your appearance. Coco Chanel said that a woman should be two things: classy and fabulous. Your clothes should make you feel the same.’

Violet went through her wardrobe and drawers, picking out the clothes that didn’t make her feel fabulous. In the end, there was only her new trouser suit and tops hanging up in the wardrobe, with everything else piled high on the bed, ready
to be thrown out.

She had found herself throwing out most of the baggy clothes that had always made her feel huge and shapeless. They were all too large for her now, anyway.

It was time to start looking fabulous. And it was tough if Sebastian didn’t like it.

WITH SOME TREPIDATION
, Violet went into work on Monday morning. She was a little nervous about her new, bright top and sitting in traffic for half an hour didn’t help.

‘That traffic’s getting worse,’ she said, just making it to her desk for nine o’clock.

‘Wow!’ said Wendy. ‘Look at you!’

Even Julie peered round the side of her computer screen. ‘Nice top,’ she said.

‘You’ve
lost loads of weight,’ said Wendy.

‘Thanks.’ Violet was blushing bright pink but felt grateful for the compliments.

Wendy was squealing so much at her appearance that, in the end, Mark came out of his office to see what the commotion was. His eyebrows went up on seeing the new Violet.

‘Very nice,’ he said, looking her up and down. ‘It’s good to see you out of your funeral colours for once.’

Violet felt embarrassed at the attention and was pleased when the hotline began to ring.

Later that night in the bath, Violet read a magazine article that Kathy had given her.

‘You’ve got to read this,’ Kathy had said. ‘Apparently your shoes reflect your innermost self. It’s all very
Sex and the City
but it does make sense.’

The article was fascinating. Apparently the type of shoes you wore
reflected your personality. So someone with a very extroverted personality would wear very bright shoes.

Violet dripped her way from the bath to the bedroom, wearing only her towel, and opened the wardrobe doors. What did her three pairs of shoes say about personality? Well, they were all dull, black and flat. Was that how Violet saw herself? Dull and flat? She didn’t have a single pair of feminine,
sexy shoes.

Violet sank on to the bed as a dreadful thought hit her. Was that because she had never seen herself as either sexy or feminine?

She didn’t sleep very well that night. She couldn’t get the stupid article out of her head. Consequently, she was late heading to work and got caught up in yet more traffic.

‘This is getting silly,’ said Violet, finally arriving more than ten minutes late
for work.

‘It’s the new one-way system,’ said Anthony.

‘I heard it won’t be finished for another year,’ said Wendy.

‘It’s taken me nearly an hour to get into work,’ Violet told them. ‘And I live about two miles away.’

‘You’re lucky,’ said Anthony. ‘You can walk if it gets too bad.’

‘Walk?’ squeaked Violet. ‘Are you mad?’

And she laughed.

But later on that morning, she wasn’t laughing.

There was an article in the paper about applications for the London Marathon needing to be submitted for the following April. There followed tales of heroism so colossal that Violet felt guilty for her laziness. People with no eyes, only one leg and even some over the age of ninety were able to run twenty-six miles. And Violet? She had no excuses. She was healthy and young. She should be in her prime,
not suffocated by fat.

So Violet came to a decision. She would take the bus to work. Because the bus station was quite a way from the office, that would mean a small walk at either end of the journey, but she had made her mind up. The exercise would do her good. After all, look how well Edward had been doing by going to the gym.

Unfortunately, her shoes weren’t really up for walking, no matter
how dull and flat. So at lunchtime, Violet wolfed down her home-made salad and headed to a nearby department store. In the sports department, she purchased a pair of trainers. OK, they were black, but they did have a tiny Nike swoosh in glittery pink as well. It was a start.

With ten minutes left of her lunch hour, she hurried back through the store with her purchase. Taking a shortcut through
the shoe department, Violet suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. The summer sales were still on and there, amongst the flipflops and sandals, were the most beautiful pair of shoes she had ever seen. They were a thinner, more elegant type of gladiator sandal. They were turquoise and shiny. They gleamed as if they had been polished. They were magnificent. And Violet had never worn anything like them
in her entire life.

Despite the time, she couldn’t stop herself. She was
drawn
to them. She had to touch them, to feel them, to try them on. To her surprise, Violet had gone down a shoe size. Did feet retain fat as well? It was all very bizarre.

But the size fives were wonderful. She didn’t walk about in them, just stared down at her feet in wonder. The shoes were so lovely that she could put
them in a display cabinet and just look at them.

Violet frowned. The beautiful sandals also highlighted her toenails, which she never painted. That would have to change. Perhaps she could get some nail varnish from the chemist? But a quick glance at the time confirmed she was cutting it close so she paid for the shoes and went back to the office clutching her precious purchase.