The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (3 page)

‘And if I don’t?’ he asked. He had to know.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Tablets for high blood pressure. And for
what I’m presuming will be a high cholesterol count. Maybe treatment for diabetes as well. If all that doesn’t help, perhaps a small stroke will follow. Do you want to guess the rest?’

A sharp intake of breath was his only reply.

‘At six foot three, you should weigh around thirteen stone. If you need help, there’s a number of weight-loss classes in the area. Try one of those.’ She gave him a
sympathetic smile. ‘I really don’t want to have to give you one of my frequent-visitor passes.’

Edward staggered out of the doctor’s surgery in a daze, the attractive woman in the waiting room all but forgotten. This was the last thing he needed. He had a stressful job and a busy social life. He didn’t have time to be healthy as well.

As usual for a Thursday night, he bought himself takeaway
fish and chips on the way home. But this time, he only had regular chips instead of his normal large portion and he chose a Diet Coke. That was a start, wasn’t it?

Kathy Baker hated blind dates. Worse still, it was an internet set-up so she was expecting the worst. Somewhere between psychopath and nerd, she was betting. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered. But when
you’re
thirty and single, you
have to keep trying. Or so she had been told.

Kathy worked in a charity shop during the day and normally dressed in jeans and a jumper. She knew she should make the effort, in case a George Clooney lookalike came through the front door one day. But chances were it would just be another pensioner looking for a bargain blouse. So it had been nice to dress up tonight, for the first time in a very
long time.

Kathy was quite pleased with her outfit. Her full black skirt had come from the shop, a bargain at two pounds. She was trying not to think about the size-eighteen label inside and the fact that the elasticated waistband was at full stretch and digging into her. The pink, low V-neck top was an old favourite but must have shrunk from frequent use. She tried to sit up straight so that
the tight material didn’t highlight the rolls of fat around her middle. She knew it was good to have a bit of cleavage to attract the men but was trying to ignore how tight the top felt across the bust. She was worried that any quick movement would result in a Barbara Windsor in
Carry on Camping
tribute.

Kathy knew she had to get out and meet people. Having just moved to the area, she knew nobody
except the elderly ladies who worked in the shop with her, and whose idea of a hectic social life was a daytime whirl of bridge, bingo and bowls. But Kathy needed company; she craved it. She was no good on her own.

So Kathy had decided to venture into the world of internet dating. After all, there were some success stories she had read about. And perhaps ‘Mike’ would be the one, if that was his
real name. Maybe Mike would be someone to talk to, to share life with, a hardy soul who could support her no matter what.

His photo had looked nice so here she was, perched on a stool in a wine bar. It was Thursday night and the place was packed with young and good-looking office staff, all loosening their ties and flinging off their jackets. Kathy shuffled on her stool, trying to appear relaxed
but in reality she was silently praying that her arse didn’t look too big spilling over the sides.

‘You’re not Kathy, are you?’ said a voice behind her.

Kathy turned round and nearly fell off her stool. The man was six feet tall but only about a foot wide. He was the thinnest person she had ever seen.

‘I’m afraid so,’ she said, giving him her widest beam, even though she was dying inside.

He wasn’t exactly a looker but then she remembered his photo being quite dark. Maybe there was a reason for that.

Kathy hadn’t supplied a photo, but she knew she was reasonably good-looking. Her cheeks were always too red, her face too shiny and her shoulder-length brown hair could do with a decent cut to give it a bit of body, but her brown eyes were nice and her skin wasn’t spotty. She wasn’t
exactly a fright. Or at least, she hadn’t thought so until now.

‘You said you looked like Elizabeth Hurley,’ he said, with a whine in his voice.

‘From a hundred yards,’ replied Kathy, still smiling.

‘More like Hurley from
Lost
,’ he muttered, looking over his shoulder.

She scowled at him. ‘Why do you keep glancing around? Are you looking to see if there’s someone else here that you know?’

‘I hope not,’ he said softly.

But she caught it, all the same.

‘Just go, would you?’ she told him. ‘Crawl back under that rock you’ve been hiding under.’

‘Least I could find one big enough,’ he snapped back before leaving.

Kathy tried to pull herself together. It was fine. He was an idiot. He was the one with the problem, not her. All she had wanted was someone to talk to, to help stem the
loneliness and the grief. But she wasn’t that desperate.

She finished her drink and pushed her way through the crowd to the street. Only then did she let her mouth tremble with the emotion hidden deep inside. But she pushed her shoulders back and strode off down the street. There was a lovely, comforting cheesy pasta waiting for her at home. That would take away the pain and make her feel better.

But Kathy knew it was only temporary. The loneliness would soon seep back, suffocating her.

This was why Kathy hated blind dates.

ON FRIDAY, VIOLET
was sprawled on the sofa as usual. She was sliding the crumbs from the bottom of a tube of Pringles into her mouth when the front doorbell rang.

She shuffled into the hallway, regretting that she was still in her grubby dressing gown and slippers at one o’clock in the afternoon. God, she hoped it wasn’t Sebastian. She never wanted him to see her like this.

She
opened the door and peered around it.

‘Hello!’ said a cheery woman. ‘Are you Violet Saunders?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I have this lovely bouquet for you.’ She held out a huge bunch of flowers in varying shades of pink. ‘Could you just sign this for me?’

She held out a delivery sheet so Violet had no option but to open up the front door. She quickly signed her name.

‘Get well soon!’ said the florist,
before heading back down the front path.

Violet shut the door, trying not to mind that the florist thought she was unwell. She glanced in the mirror before quickly looking away. Perhaps the florist was right.

She put the bouquet on the coffee table in the lounge and opened the card.

‘Dinner tonight. 7 p.m. Wear something nice. Sebastian.’

He had rung every day since Monday but she hadn’t picked
up the phone. She was too busy working her way through the Easter leftovers. Food was the only thing that made her feel better. The only thing that blocked out the pain.

The news had come on to the television in the corner. Lots of headlines about unemployment figures being high. Violet had been made redundant just before Easter. She was a secretary in a small office of accountants. The directors
had told her that they needed to reduce costs and were going to integrate two of the secretarial positions.

So why did they choose Andrea over me? wondered Violet for the hundredth time. Andrea had only been with the firm for six months. Violet had been there since she left school. But Violet knew why. Andrea was slim and pretty.

Violet sighed. She had registered with a couple of agencies but
they didn’t hold out much luck. Jobs were scarce, they said. And she knew that she hardly gave a great first impression.

Violet knew she would have to face Sebastian tonight. Wear something nice, he had said. Knowing the trauma that lay ahead, she lay down on the sofa, grabbing an Easter egg box from the top of a nearby pile. She had bought a few in the post-holiday sales.
Plus
she needed something
sweet after all those crisps.

She broke off a piece of chocolate with one hand, using the other to flick between channels. Bored senseless by daytime television, she briefly contemplated doing some housework, but what was the point?

Her mobile suddenly rang. But this time it wasn’t Sebastian. It was an unknown number.

‘Hello?’

‘Violet? It’s Patricia from Job Searchers.’

She remembered. A
patronising cow who couldn’t disguise the horror in her eyes as she beheld Violet’s appearance.

‘Great news. We’ve got an interview for you.’

Violet sat bolt upright, scattering chocolate everywhere.

‘Really?’

‘We’ve had a bit of bother with this particular chap,’ she carried on. ‘He doesn’t seem to like any of our girls. So we thought we’d try you out. See how you get on. I think you’ll be
perfect.’

To her horror, the interview had been arranged for the following Wednesday. Only four days to prepare herself for the hideous trauma of meeting new people. Violet began to panic.

She was still pacing the lounge nervously when the doorbell rang at seven o’clock that evening. But this time she knew who was outside. She took a deep breath and opened the front door.

‘Hello,’ said Sebastian,
with a soft smile.

‘Hello,’ Violet stammered back, her heart leaping as it always had, right from the first time they met.

Two years earlier, Violet had been standing at the counter at a popular wine bar in the centre of town,
trying
to catch the bartender’s eye. The office Christmas party was in full swing back at the table. Violet allowed herself a small shudder. Whilst she had been merely
enduring the innuendo and continuous laughter, her colleagues were letting their hair down and having the most marvellous time.

Especially the new girl in human resources, just returned from a lengthy absence with one of the directors, now surreptitiously doing up his flies as he drunkenly lurched back towards the table.

Violet sighed.

‘A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be so sad,’ said a
male voice next to her.

Violet glanced over her shoulder, knowing that the man couldn’t possibly be speaking about her. But she was nosy enough to want to see whom he was talking to.

To her amazement, she saw a blond man smiling at her. She glanced around but it was just the two of them.

‘How about I buy you a drink to cheer you up?’

Without waiting for a reply, he ordered two champagnes from
the barman, who had suddenly materialised in front of them. Violet watched him order their drinks. He was slim with spiky, fair hair and had an air of self-confidence, as if he could take on the world and win.

The man handed Violet a glass of champagne and clinked her glass with his.

‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Here’s to my idiot friend who stood me up. And thank God, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the
chance to meet you.’

Violet stared in wonder as he carried on smiling at her.

‘The name’s Sebastian,’ he told her.

‘I’m Violet,’ she stammered, before sneaking a quick glance at her colleagues.

‘They’re too drunk to notice you’re missing,’ said Sebastian, following her gaze. ‘Besides, they don’t deserve you. And I want you all to myself.’

Later, he had kissed her under the mistletoe as they
left the bar. Violet couldn’t believe that someone was interested in her, could even want to be seen in public with her.

She still felt that way after two years of dating.

And here he was, the love of her life, standing in front of her.

‘Forgive me,’ he asked. ‘I beg of you.’

Violet stepped forward into the rain and let him sweep her into his arms.

‘I’m an idiot,’ he muttered into her hair.
He was an inch shorter than Violet but she was able to snuffle into his shoulder if she stooped a little.

‘That’s OK,’ she said, inhaling the expensive scent on his neck.

And perhaps it was, in a way. Had she forgiven him? She didn’t care. She just wanted to be with him. Nothing else mattered.

He drew away and held her shoulders. ‘It will never happen again,’ he said.

And she believed him.
She had to. He was all she had. She would do anything to keep him. Even forgive him for sleeping with another woman.

‘I’m sorry too,’ she told him as he finally drew away. ‘I’ll behave better. I won’t whinge as much. And I’m going to lose some weight.’

He smiled. ‘Violet, darling. You’re my girl and I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ she replied.

‘But perhaps you should try not to nag me so much,’
Sebastian added. ‘It does upset me, you know.’

Violet nodded. That was the answer. They would both try their best and everything would be OK.

‘Now, what about dinner? You must be starving.’

Sebastian had booked a table for two at the Rajdoot. The Rajdoot produced the most wonderful Indian food imaginable. It was a trendy restaurant, frequented by smart go-getters like Sebastian who worked in
the finance sector.

Violet knew she wasn’t in his class. She would have loved to have worn a pretty dress like some of the other women but had stuck to black trousers, a batwing black top and a few bits of jewellery.

They ordered their food and as the waiter went away, Sebastian raised his glass.

‘Here’s to us,’ he said, clinking the glasses together.

Violet smiled back. He was at his most
charming tonight. He was trying desperately to make amends, she knew.

She was stuffing a poppadom into her mouth when she caught Sebastian looking at her and smiling. She quickly swallowed and tried to slow down her eating. She must have looked like a total pig, jumping on the food as soon as it arrived.

But it was after the main course that she became certain Sebastian was acting strangely.
He kept staring at her, with that odd grin on his face. Normally he chatted away about his work or the football matches he had seen. His life was always fascinating to her. But tonight he was silent, just watching her.

She began to fret. Something was different. Something was wrong.

After the waiter had taken the plates away, Sebastian cleared his throat. ‘I need to talk to you about something,’
he said.