The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (39 page)

Violet drew in a deep breath as he carried on talking.

‘The main thing that struck me was how sad you were. And how much I wanted to make you happy. To see those blue eyes of yours
shine.’

Violet drew herself up. ‘But I am happy now.’

‘That’s crap,’ he told her. ‘Why else did your friends ring me? And how can you be happy with him? What if he cheats on you in the future? How can you trust him?’

Violet bit her lip. She didn’t know what to think any more.

He took her face in his hands. ‘If you were mine, I would never cheat on you. Ever.’

Violet’s eyes filled with tears.
It was everything she had ever longed to hear. But it was Mark speaking, not Sebastian.

He stared into her eyes, his face closer now.

‘If you were mine,’ he told her, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. ‘I’d take you to Italy and marry you in our local chapel. Just you, me and the priest. I don’t need anyone else. Just you. Only you.’

The tears were rolling down her face now as she
stared at him, trying to take in his beautiful words.

‘
Ti amo
, Viola. Do you know what that means?’

Violet nodded. He loved her. He actually, truly loved her.

Suddenly Mark dropped his hands to his side.

‘But you are going to marry him, aren’t you? After all that he’s done, you’re still going ahead with the wedding. Well, I wish you luck, Violet Saunders. I hope you can be happy with him.
But you’d be happier with me.’

Violet watched him walk away as the rain began to pour down from the sky, soaking his shirt and making it stick to his skin.

It was her hen night. The night when she should have been celebrating her future marriage to Sebastian. But none of it mattered. Sebastian didn’t matter. All that mattered to Violet was walking away down the street. And getting further away
from her.

And then it struck her. All that mattered was Mark.

Violet began to run down the road, her heels slipping on the rain-soaked pavements.

‘Mark!’ she cried, running up to him. Stop!’

He spun round upon hearing her shout. She was breathless as she crashed to a halt in front of him. They stared at each other for what seemed a long, long time.

Then Violet spoke the only word she could
think of.

‘Marco,’ she whispered.

He stepped forward and crushed her to him, kissing her hard on the lips. Violet grabbed at him to hold her even closer, kissing him with a passion she never knew was within her.

Finally, she felt truly alive.

‘I DON’T THINK
much of this Christmas cake,’ said Sebastian’s mother, screwing up her face. ‘It doesn’t taste right.’

‘That’s because it’s panettone,’ said Violet, picking up the remaining cake from the coffee table.

She stalked out of the lounge, taking the plate back into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. She’d had enough. Violet surveyed the mess. Serving a
dozen people a full Christmas lunch with all the trimmings was exhausting. Not that anyone had offered to help, she had noted.

But actually she wanted to be alone; she craved the solitude. She was content to hide in the kitchen, her Andrea Bocelli folder on constant play on her iPod speakers. Sebastian had whinged about it being ‘boring’ but Violet had ignored him, playing it at every opportunity.
Especially the songs in Italian.

She sliced off a piece of the glorious panettone and took it with her, nibbling at it as she stared out of the
kitchen
window. She sighed as Andrea Bocelli sung soft words of love to her through the speakers.

Five nights ago, the words hadn’t been sung by another gorgeous Italian man. They had been whispered in her ear, tenderly at first and then more fervently.
So ardently, in fact, that she had let him take her back to his flat and make passionate love to her.

The lovemaking had been glorious, fantastic, mind-blowing. It was like nothing she had ever experienced, no feelings she had ever known. She only knew of sex through Sebastian but Mark had made her cry out with joy, something she had never done with her fiancé.

Mark had made her feel special,
sexy, loved.

Early in the dawn, Violet had awoken and stared across at the man sleeping peacefully next to her. His face was softened in sleep. She reached out her hand to brush his sensuous lips with her fingers but withdrew them quickly.

Careful not to wake him, she got out of bed and quietly picked up her clothes. She got dressed in the lounge and then crept out, clicking the door shut behind
her.

Sebastian had returned that lunchtime from his stag do in Amsterdam, bleary-eyed and hungover. He kissed Violet on his return but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. He hadn’t even noticed that anything was different. That everything was different now.

She had spent the days leading up to Christmas guilt-ridden over her behaviour. She had done to Sebastian exactly what he had done
to her all those months ago. She was a cheater, just like him. It occurred to her that now they were even, but the guilt still
followed
her around like a cloud, hanging over everything, including Christmas.

She bought Sebastian an expensive pair of cufflinks, remorse making her spend three times the normal amount. Sebastian gave her a baking book. ‘Hopefully it’ll stop you being so skinny,’ he
told her.

But the worst thing of all had been Sebastian making love to her on Christmas Eve. It was the first time he had attempted to have sex with her since returning from Amsterdam. But Violet knew she wouldn’t be able to put him off any longer.

Violet couldn’t help but compare the men. Mark had unleashed something primal in her, feelings and urges hidden so deep that she didn’t know they
existed. She had been able to match his passion with hers, to be his equal, to make him cry out too.

With Sebastian, she found herself unmoved. She just lay there and let him go ahead. Afterwards, he seemed satisfied. But Violet knew she wasn’t. Might never be again. Only Mark could make her feel alive.

Not that any of it mattered. She was marrying Sebastian in seven days and that would be the
end of the silly crush, if that’s all it was. Besides, Mark hadn’t called her, or attempted to contact her. He had obviously put it down to a drunken mistake as well, something to forget.

And even if that weren’t entirely true, that was how she would remember it. As a mistake. At least, that was what her head was telling her. She wished her heart would listen as well. And the body that ached
for his touch just one more time.

‘Not this bloody opera stuff again,’ said Sebastian.

Violet hadn’t even heard him enter the kitchen.

The love song stopped abruptly as Sebastian fiddled
with
the iPod. The next minute, Mariah Carey was singing, ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’. Violet sighed and began to tidy up the kitchen.

‘Gosh, that music’s a bit loud,’ said Miriam, coming through the
doorway.

Violet rolled her eyes as she bent down to fill the dishwasher. She just wanted Sebastian and his mother to leave her in peace.

‘Now, about the wedding cake,’ continued Miriam. ‘Mrs Henderson has said that, despite the late notice, she could give you one of her leftover Christmas cakes for the bottom tier. That just leaves the madeira ones to sort out.’

Violet straightened up and swung
round to face her future mother-in-law.

‘But I thought we’d agreed that I would take care of the wedding cake,’ she said, hearing the tension in her voice.

But Miriam shook her head. ‘You don’t need to worry about anything,’ she replied.

Violet took a deep breath. ‘I’m not worried about it,’ she said, trying to remain calm. ‘In fact, it’s already sorted. One of my friends is bringing a chocolate
cake.’

‘Chocolate!’ Miriam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You can’t have a chocolate cake, dear! I think—’

But Violet had reached breaking point. ‘No!’ she said, more sharply than intended. ‘I’m sorry but I want a chocolate cake. You have chosen the date, the church, the reception venue, the menu for the wedding breakfast, the evening buffet menu, the florist and the guest list. I am choosing the cake
for my wedding and it will be chocolate.’

There was a short silence whilst they glared at each other.

Eventually, Sebastian cleared his throat. ‘Why don’t you go back into the lounge, Mother. I’ll help Violet clear up.’

Miriam considered saying something but appeared to think better of it and left the room.

‘That was uncalled for,’ hissed Sebastian in a low tone.

Violet felt all the fight
seep out of her and turned her back on him, concentrating on filling the dishwasher.

‘Mother has been extremely helpful considering how painful this must be for her,’ he carried on. ‘You know that it breaks her heart not to be able to arrange a wedding for Elizabeth. This is her only chance.’

Violet straightened up and headed to the opposite counter where she poured herself a large glass of
limoncello. She took a large gulp before walking over to the iPod station and switched the music back to Andrea Bocelli.

‘Christ, you’re drunk,’ Sebastian muttered before walking out.

Not yet, thought Violet. Give me another hour trapped in the house with your mother and I might just be.

The night before the wedding, Sebastian finally left her to go to his mother’s home for the night. Violet
was relieved. She was a nervous wreck, hardly eating anything.

‘I can’t believe you’ve lost more weight,’ moaned Lucy, grabbing another pin. ‘Your wedding dress will be too big at this rate.’

Maggie, Kathy and Lucy had come across for the last fitting of the wedding dress and for a girly night in.

‘You’ll ruin my design,’ said Lucy, tutting under her breath.

‘Sorry,’ said Violet, her voice
catching.

‘Hey,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m only kidding. Look at you! You look wonderful!’

She turned Violet around so she could finally see her reflection.

Violet gasped. The dress was beautiful. A classic long sheath of white, with a lace overlay, held up by little spaghetti straps. Both the straps and the lace had been dotted with tiny dots of diamanté to give a subtle sparkle as the dress moved.
Around the waist was a wide gold ribbon, to match the gold jewellery Violet had chosen from her mother’s collection.

‘Just one thing missing,’ said Maggie, bringing out a blue garter. ‘It’s something borrowed and blue. I’ve had a long and happy marriage, love. I hope it’s the same for you.’

Violet burst into tears. And her friends knew they weren’t tears of happiness. This was a deep pain.

Maggie and Lucy positioned themselves either side of Violet, each with an arm around her. Meanwhile Kathy went to open the champagne bottle Edward had given her. She poured out a large glass and gave it to Violet.

‘Drink this,’ Kathy told her.

Violet gulped down the sparkling drink as she tried to steady herself.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ asked Maggie. ‘Mark.’

Violet nodded, still unable to speak.

‘Did you go home with him?’ asked Kathy.

Violet nodded.

‘But you’re still getting married?’ asked Lucy. ‘To Sebastian, I mean.’

Violet finally composed herself. ‘I have to,’ she told them.

‘Why?’ said Kathy.

Violet gave her a small smile. ‘I’ve got two hundred guests arriving to watch a wedding tomorrow afternoon. I don’t think they’re going to be very happy if I call it off.’

‘Stuff them!’
snapped Lucy. ‘You can’t get married if you don’t want to.’

‘But I do,’ said Violet. ‘I love Sebastian. I’ve been with him for so many years. He must be the one.’

‘But what about Mark?’ asked Maggie.

Violet shook her head. ‘Call it pre-wedding jitters,’ she told her. ‘That’s all. One final fling.’

Her friends exchanged worried glances but said nothing more about it. Violet had sounded quite
firm on the matter, so they let it drop. In the end, it had to be her decision.

Later on, when they had left, Violet walked through the house. The girls had wanted to stay but she was happier being alone. They would be back in the morning to fix her hair and nails. But for now, she didn’t want to speak any more.

Violet stared at the suitcases in the hall, packed and ready for the honeymoon.
She felt a stab of dread. Two weeks alone with Sebastian. What would they find to talk about? Would he expect them to make love every night?

She sighed. Everything felt false, not right. Thank God it was an all-inclusive resort and all the drinks were free. Perhaps an alcohol-fuelled daze would bring her inner peace.

She shook her head. It wasn’t a great start to a marriage, feeling like this.

She wanted to sleep but it seemed out of reach. So Violet wandered from room to room in her dressing gown, trying to think of something to stop her mind racing.

And then she remembered. She reached into the drawer next to the sofa and brought out Isabella’s book. There was still one rule to go. Better late than never, Violet told herself, curling up on the sofa.

‘Rule Number Six,’ she read.
‘Be gorgeous.’

Easier said than done, thought Violet.

‘Being gorgeous on the outside is easy. But remember there are no ugly faces, only ugly people. People lacking in manners, with no compassion or kindness. This is true ugliness. But you will only ever be as attractive as you think you are. If you think you are ugly, everyone else will think so too.’

Violet sat upright on the sofa but kept
reading.

‘Tell yourself you are gorgeous and you will be gorgeous. Treat yourself as gorgeous and everyone will treat you as being gorgeous. Think yourself gorgeous and you will become truly gorgeous.’

Violet stood up and began to pace up and down. Her aunt had told her over and over that she was ugly. She had repeated it so often that Violet believed her.

But that was ten years ago. She was
free of her aunt now. And Violet no longer believed she was ugly.

She had been through a dreadful experience, losing her parents. Her aunt had given her no love, no hope, no kindness. She had been deprived. So Violet had made herself feel better with the only thing she could find. Food.