The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (29 page)

‘What have you
bought?’ asked Wendy, nodding at the bags.

‘Trainers,’ Violet told her. She paused. Then found she couldn’t stop herself. ‘And the most beautiful pair of shoes I’ve ever seen.’

Wendy’s eyebrows went up at her excited tone. ‘Let’s see them.’

Violet drew out the shoebox and took off the lid. There they were, nestled amongst the tissue paper. Her fabulous shoes.

‘Oh my God!’ screeched Wendy.
‘They’re gorgeous!’

‘Lemme see!’ said Julie, suddenly appearing around the side of the desk.

She picked one of the shoes out of its box and stared. Then she looked at Violet and gave her what must have been the first smile that year.

‘Bloody hell!’ she said. ‘You start off all quiet and wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Now you’ve gone all Carrie Bradshaw on us!’

Violet blushed.

‘What next? Handbags?’

In unison, they all stared at Violet’s black, dull, practical handbag. The girls looked back at her and Violet nodded at them, knowing that next on the list was a new handbag.

‘Put the shoes on,’ Wendy urged.

Violet muttered about her toenails not being painted but nobody appeared to be listening.

‘I’ve soooo got to get a pair of those,’ said Julie.

They were so busy staring at her feet that
nobody noticed Mark joining the group.

‘New shoes?’ he said, muscling his way through to see what was going on.

‘You wouldn’t understand,’ said Julie. ‘It’s a girly thing.’

Violet’s eyebrows shot up. Her? Girly?

She locked eyes with Mark and gave him a tentative smile. He stared down at the shoes and whistled.

‘Very sexy,’ he said and smiled at Violet in such a way that she blushed bright
red. She quickly took the shoes off again.

But back at home that evening, she teetered around the lounge in them. She even brought the mirror in from the hall and put it on the floor just so she could see her feet. The shoes were expensive and impractical. She couldn’t even walk properly in them yet. But Violet was beaming. They were gorgeous.

But something still wasn’t quite right. The following
lunchtime, Violet purchased foot cream, emery boards and various shades of nail varnish. In fact, every lunchtime that week saw Violet return from lunch with yet more purchases. A new pair of shoes for work which were still black but were Mary Jane types with a heel.
A
new purple patent handbag which was shiny and fabulous. Navy trousers and a pink top for work.

Sebastian was away at a conference
for the week so each night Violet held her own private fashion show. Just her and the mirror.

By the time she was cooking Sunday roast for Sebastian and his parents, Violet felt different somehow. A little younger. A little more modern.

‘Are those jeans new?’ said Sebastian, glaring at her legs as she placed the chicken on the table.

‘Only Primark,’ she lied, even though they were from Debenhams.

Miriam sniffed at the food in front of her. ‘What have you done to the chicken?’

‘Oh, I added a touch of garlic and rosemary,’ said Violet. ‘Just to make it a bit different.’

It had smelt divine whilst cooking. She had even roasted the vegetables in the same pan, using olive oil and fresh herbs to give them flavour.

‘It’s certainly unusual,’ said Miriam, wrinkling her nose.

‘It’s low fat,’
said Violet in a dull tone.

‘Pass the gravy,’ said Donald.

Violet watched as he drowned out the lovely flavours with the packet sauce that Sebastian had insisted she make.

‘It would be nice to have some normal bloody food around here,’ snapped Sebastian, scowling at the roasted vegetables.

‘Poor darling. You mustn’t go without all the time,’ cooed Miriam, before glancing across at Violet.
‘An eating disorder isn’t attractive.’

‘I don’t have an eating disorder. I’m trying to eat more healthily,’ said Violet, suddenly feeling a bit
brave
. ‘After all, I need to lose weight for the wedding, don’t I?’

She met Miriam’s eyes and felt a little thrill as Sebastian’s mother was the first one to look away.

It was a small victory that she would pay for later as Sebastian was still going
on about the new jeans that evening.

‘I had to get something new,’ Violet told him. ‘Everything was so baggy. You don’t want me greeting your parents in tracksuit bottoms, do you?’

‘It wouldn’t bother me, pumpkin,’ he replied with a shrug of the shoulders.

But it was really starting to bother Violet. As was being called pumpkin.

LUCY WAS HUNCHED
over her drawing pad as she worked at the dining-room table. It was a little odd being at home on her own, as her mum was working in the shop. But she didn’t mind.

It was quite a tough assignment that she had given herself. Violet’s ghastly wedding dress was hanging up over the door and Lucy was desperate to tear it apart. But that was the problem. What to
do with the pieces that remained? Violet was a hard one to figure out and certainly to design for.

Lucy had a feeling that Violet was secretly a classic dresser. She could just imagine her in crop trousers, ballet shoes and a plain top. Perhaps with a sleek, black bob. Not that Violet would ever get rid of that long curtain of hair that she hid behind.

Lucy wondered whether the bride could be
persuaded to have her hair up in a classy chignon on her wedding day. And she was thinking that a simple but slightly sparkly sheath dress would be perfect. She was already over halfway to her
weight-loss
goal and Lucy had no doubts that she would reach her target.

So nothing fancy, nothing too frilly. But the lace on the great meringue of a dress hanging in front of her was quite pretty. Perhaps
that could go over the top in a fine layer.

Lucy leant back in her chair. She considered adding a few beads to up the glamour factor. Her favourite shop in town was a small haberdashery that stocked hundreds of beads, buttons and trimmings.

She glanced out of the window. It was a nice autumn day and she really had nothing to do until university started in ten days so Lucy decided to head to
one of the local bridal shops and have a nose around for inspiration. Then perhaps she could go to the haberdashery and buy a few bits and bobs.

She stepped out of the front door, putting the earpiece in as she went down the front path. Her parents had bought her an iPod to celebrate her good exam results and she had downloaded the Gym Bunny workout music from iTunes almost immediately. It was
great to walk to, the beat causing her feet to pound the pavements at a fast pace.

She turned the corner at the end of the road and carried on striding out, her mind occupied with designs for Violet’s wedding dress. With the music on and her head down, her feet led the way into town.

Before she reached the shops, Lucy’s eyes suddenly caught sight of a pair of pink trainers on the pavement. She
didn’t need to look up to know whom they belonged to. She recognised the graffiti and grubbiness. It was Nicola Bowles.

But Lucy found the fear that had long haunted her
had
evaporated. It must have disappeared along with all those pounds. She found she was a different person now, both inside and out. She had always been scared to go out, to socialise with other people. Now she couldn’t wait
to get to London and all it offered. She would talk to anybody and everybody if given the chance.

She was dressed in new skinny jeans and boots, only half a stone away from her target. She was on her way to a fantastically trendy university in London to study design. She was happy with herself and excited about the future. What did she care what Nicola Bowles thought of her? And did it really
matter anyway?

She, Lucy Walsh, had nothing to worry about. She could hold her head high. She was OK. She was better than OK. She was loved by family and friends. She was talented. She was young. She was fine.

She stole a quick glance at Nicola. Why had she never noticed that muffin top over the waistband of her jeans before now? The hair with its split ends and bad roots? What was so special
about her?

Out of curiosity, she glanced up into Nicola’s face. Her face was screwed up in animosity and she was obviously saying something to her. But Lucy couldn’t hear her above the iPod. And why should she listen? Nicola Bowles had nothing to say that could ever interest Lucy.

So she sidestepped Nicola and carried on walking into town, away from her past and into her future.

Maggie and
Kathy were covered in paint.

‘At least I’m not ruining any of my nice new clothes,’ said Maggie, gazing down at the large T-shirt she was
wearing
. ‘This was the only one of my large clothes that I kept. Time to start again, I reckon. Another dress size, another new wardrobe.’

They had decided to give the shop a complete overhaul. So they had put up signs saying it would be closed for a fortnight.

‘Not that there are any customers anyway,’ Kathy had said.

But Maggie was hopeful. A lick of paint, some modern lighting and a new layout in the window might do the trick.

‘This pale yellow is absolutely right,’ Maggie declared, stepping back to look at the wall she had just painted.

‘Very cheerful,’ said Kathy, who sounded anything but.

She had been in a funny mood all week, thought Maggie.

‘How are you getting on with the bike?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ replied Kathy.

Maggie had found Lucy’s bicycle in the garage and offered it to Kathy.

‘My legs aren’t long enough,’ Maggie told her. ‘You should take a ride down the river path. Gordon and I went for a walk along there last night. It was gorgeous.’

It really was, thought Maggie, allowing herself a smile. She and Gordon had walked along
hand in hand until it was nearly dark. It was lovely to be able to talk about their work days as they strolled along. The weight loss had not only given her a boost, it had given their marriage one as well.

‘Gordon’s already lost half a stone and he’s only been on the diet a week,’ said Maggie.

Kathy didn’t reply so Maggie continued chatting to fill the silence.

‘As Gordon says, it’s not really
a diet. It’s a long-term healthy-eating plan. Maybe that’s why it’s worked. I’ve already lost nearly four stone. OK, so I’ve got another three to go but I feel so much better.’

Maggie’s palpitations were a thing of the past and she had increased her weight loss back up to five pounds that week by jogging each day. She was up to ten minutes’ solid running at a time and the weight was dropping
off her.

She and Gordon were joining a dance class and Maggie couldn’t wait. Lucy was going to sew some sequins on her new skirt so that Maggie’s sparkle count was high enough.

‘Did I tell you I can see my feet again?’ said Maggie with a chuckle. ‘I’ve lost so much off my chest and stomach I can finally see the ground. Which also means I have to start painting my toenails again.’

When there
was no reply from Kathy, Maggie bent down to pick up the paint tin and carried it over to where she was painting the opposite wall.

‘Right,’ said Maggie. ‘You can either tell me what’s going on or you get this lot down your bra. It’s your choice.’

Kathy gave her a small smile. ‘Why are you picking on me?’

‘Because Lucy’s not here.’ Maggie put down the tin of paint. ‘How about a nice cup of
tea?’

She went and put the kettle on. She returned with two mugs of tea and a packet of pink wafers under her arm.

‘Thanks,’ said Maggie, as Kathy relieved her of the biscuits. ‘They’re a godsend these wafer things.
Especially
when you want something sweet but don’t want to ruin your diet.’

Kathy took a sip of her tea but remained quiet.

‘Are you watching the cricket again this weekend?’

Kathy shook her head. ‘Season’s finished.’

‘Right. Is Edward still coming over to fix your flat?’

Kathy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t think there’s anything left to fix.’

Maggie took a bite of the wafer biscuit, thinking that Miss Marple could rest easy. Her detective skills were in no danger from this line of questioning.

‘I was thinking that we could go back to that army workout on the common,’
she continued. ‘Now that we’re thinner and fitter. Maybe you could ensnare one of them with those lovely brown eyes and your new figure.’

Kathy shook her head. ‘Not really interested in men at the minute,’ she said, staring into the distance.

‘Apart from our lovely Edward,’ said Maggie, slyly.

‘Apart from him,’ said Kathy, before coming out of her trance. ‘No, wait a minute! Don’t keep saying
he’s lovely, it distracts me. Besides, we only see each other now on a Tuesday night at the weigh-in. Hardly the start of a romantic relationship, is it?’

‘Aha!’ said Maggie in a triumphant tone. ‘So you do want a romantic relationship with him!’

‘Tell anyone and I’ll cut your heart out,’ snarled Kathy, but then she sighed. ‘It’s no use. He’s not interested in me. Not like that, I mean.’

‘Then
we’ll have to find you someone that is,’ said Maggie, giving her friend a quick hug.

A dark gloom had come over Kathy since the cricket season had finished. There was no excuse to see Edward
outside
of the weight-loss club now. No cosy chats over dinner on a Sunday night. It was all at an end.

The only time she would see Edward now was with the other girls. Kathy found it wasn’t enough for her.

She mulled over Maggie’s words as she headed home on the bike. She found she was really enjoying the cycle ride to work. It was lovely to have some fresh air and clear her head. She tried to avoid the busy main roads and stuck to the pretty side roads and avenues.

She glanced at the cricket ground as she cycled past. She had gone there on Thursday evening to watch the last match of the cricket
season. She had got off the bike but left the helmet on, worried about helmet hair.

She watched the game for about five minutes. Until Edward strode out of the pavilion to bat, that was. Then she got back on the bike and cycled away before he saw her. He probably wanted her to stop bothering him. After all, that flirting with the barmaid had been very cosy. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of the
fat friend and go with the busty barmaid.