HUNGRY FOR REVENGE
By
Ron Shillingford
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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Hungry For Revenge
Copyright © 2011 by Ron Shillingford
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Joanna Turner felt suicidal and murderous all at once, the tormenting was taking its toll. Virtually every day for years, they were her most overwhelming emotions.
Fed up of the bullying, being obese shouldn’t be so painful, she reasoned. Getting called ‘Tubby Turner’ out of earshot was bad enough but the cruelest kids called her that to her face.
Comfort eating was the cause after her parents divorced at nine. Her mum Lola would pile up her plate, with plenty of naughty snacks in between, especially Mr. Kipling’s apple pies. A box of eight a day was Joanna’s grazing treat throughout childhood. She read George Orwell, Jane Austen and Charles Dickens munching Mr. Kipling’s apple pies in total bliss. Jackie Collins and Wilbur Smith novels drew her into fantasy worlds, helping her deal with the pain at school.
Katie Thompson was Joanna’s main tormentor at Redwood High, one of the cool girls who took a twisted pleasure in mocking anyone who didn’t quite fit in. Katie’s accomplices included five girls who also taunted Joanna. She dubbed them The Cronies.
Pretty, super-confident and popular, Katie was heading for a career in the City. Her dad would see to that as head of investment at his bank, World Finance. While junior staff needed to be 18 and have at least A-levels for entry into World Finance, Katie was going to join straight from school at 16 with the couple GCSEs she bothered to study for.
Joanna’s love of Mr. Kipling wares was a standing joke, so Tubby Turner was also taunted with the moniker ‘Apple Pie’ and ‘Mrs. Kipling’.
A bright child, Joanna immersed herself in books, determined to be a high flier and one day make the bullies envious. A brilliant all-rounder, she concentrated on science simply because they were the hardest subjects and most likely to propel her into a lucrative career.
“Mum always said that to get your own back on enemies you should be happy and successful,” Joanna told her friend Sandy.
“Well you’ve certainly done that girl. Chemistry degree from Cambridge, head of research development at the Ministry of Defence and nice apartment in the Docklands.”
“Suppose so Sandy, but it would be nice to have someone to share it with.”
“Men! Ha! Don’t get me started. Liars, drunks, sports mad and serial cheats. Louis hasn’t seen his dad for months. Poor boy is 13, an age he where he needs a man to show him how to be one. I can’t be both at the same time, although sometimes I don’t have a choice. Men are total losers.”
“Yes, but what do you really think of them?”
Sandy’s stern look lightened up into a smile. She knew her regular rants on her pet gripe were tiresome. Joanna had heard so many she could finish sentences for her.
“Nevertheless, it would be nice to have a beau just for Saturday. It’s the school reunion and that evil Katie Thompson will be there. No matter what I’ve done in life, it’s not good enough. She lives round here. Every time I bump into her she finds a way of putting me down. Never says anything specifically about my size but always gives me that look up and down, you know: ‘Still fat, I see.’”
“Don’t worry about it Jo. She’s not perfect herself. She may be riding high at World Finance but I hear there’s a lot of Charlie involved.”
“Really! Probably why she’s still so thin. A cocaine habit used to be God’s way of telling you you’ve got too much money.”
Joanna was dreading the school reunion. At size 18-20 she felt massive. Katie’s sneers weren’t her only worry; there was Gary Billings as well.
Joanna had a raging crush on hunky Gary. Who wouldn’t? The best schoolboy footballer in Bow, a great career with West Ham United beckoned. On the short side, but perfectly formed with muscular thighs, Gary’s toothy smile and emerging celebrity attracted plenty of female admiration.
Joanna worshipped Gary from a distance - as did most of the girls who didn’t stand a chance with him - but she was convinced that if slimmer, her chances would be significantly enhanced.
Lola always said her smile could light up a Christmas tree.
Now weighing 16 stones, the shame would be too much to bear. Dieting had always been a total disaster. She would lose some then put it back on with interest.
“Apple pie Joanna? They’re Mr. Kipling’s. Go on, I know you liked them. I brought them especially for you.”
Katie Thompson grinned infuriatingly as she held out the plate at the Redwood High dance.
Embarrassed and furious, Joanna’s murderous feelings resurfaced. It was all she could manage not to strangle Katie’s scrawny neck right there. That would have really made some headlines on the school’s website.
“Oh yes, they’ve always been my guilty pleasure. Thanks. I’ll have two I think.”
“Not eating for two are you?”
“No, I’m not pregnant. Just still fat, Katie.”
“Never mind. One day you might meet a nice man who’ll love you for your large, eh, personality.”
Joanna cried all the way home in the taxi. To compound her misery, Gary Billings was still gorgeous and his trophy squeeze was impossibly slim. To exacerbate it all, he didn’t even remember her.
The driver was concerned.
“Are you alright love?”
“What do you think? Just went to a school reunion and a bully from those days made me miserable from her comments about my size.”
“Walk it off, love. Best way to lose it. Power walking is very effective. Low impact and it’s sustainable over a long time. I used to be bigger. Hate gyms and dieting. Love me food and a pint so decided to make time to power walk and I’ve lost the weight and kept it off. No harm in trying.”
As there was little else Joanna could think of, the next day she gave it a go, walking a couple of breathless miles to Canary Wharf and back.
The following day, a Sunday, instead of driving, she walked all the way to Mile End to watch Louis play football. The body heat she built up helped keep her warm watching from the freezing sidelines. Sandy was so impressed she promised to join in.
The two threw themselves into their new fitness regimes, constantly comparing performance and geeing each other up during lazy spells. Both lived only a few miles from their workplaces so walking back and forth became a daily occurrence.
Joanna improved her eating habits although nothing was off limits. Cake, biscuits, ice cream, pizza, crisps and, of course, Mr. Kipling’s apple pies were still on the menu but only in moderation.
The weight came off gradually. Unlike in previous attempts when drastic measures like near-starvation only had short-term gains, this time she tweaked her routine to build it into her lifestyle.
This change was sustainable for Joanna who started receiving compliments from friends and family.
Nat, the security guard in the block where she lived, certainly noticed.
“How many miles today?”
“Did eight in all, Nat. Lost two stones in two months. Still a long way to go but I’m determined to reach 10 stone.”
“Keep it up and you’ll soon have George Clooney as a Facebook friend.”
“How do you know he isn’t already?”
At 29 Nat was ten years youn
ger than Joanna. When not on duty he was always in the building’s gym and the rewards of hours of pumping iron showed distinctively under a form-fitting uniform.
Always pleasant and sometimes flirty, Joanna was not sure whether he was genuinely interested in her or not. He seemed to have a rapport with all the women in the block no matter what age. Men too, so maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part.
“If you’re going into a toy-boy relationship, just remember that maturity wise he is 10 years younger than his actual years.”
“What do you mean, Sandy?”
“He may be 29 but when it comes to maturity he is only 19. All men are like that, trust me.”
“You’ve got a point. They never really grow up, do they?”
Sandy’s acrimonious split with her partner had turned into hostility to men generally. Nat, she insisted, was a no-go area.
“He’s too pretty, buff and flirty, Jo. Trust me, steer clear of toy-boy relationships.”
Sandy was still a good-looking woman at 42. Long legs and trim waist beneath a bundle of red hair that framed a button nose and full crimson lips, always got her noticed. Male attention was never a problem, but so badly hurt was she from the split with Louis’ father that all advances from men were swiftly rebuked.
One over-persistent admirer in a bar in Moorgate left hobbling after feisty Sandy kneed him in a particularly delicate spot.
As Joanna continued to walk everywhere, the weight steadily dropping off, an impromptu fan club built up. The road sweeper always had a cheery word, the postman accused her of training to take his job and construction workers invited her to join in their tea breaks.
The following year Joanna was two months away from her fortieth birthday and down to 11 stones. Determined to be a perfect 10 in a size 10 and weighing 10 stones by her birthday in June, she made the bold step of asking Nat if they could train together for a while.
By now he was showing more than a passing interest, but Joanna, mindful of Sandy’s advice, dismissed the advances
“I’m bursting to settle down and have kids, Sandy. Biological clock is ticking away. No Friends With Benefits situation here. Anyway, Nat’s still a horny kid. I heard he’s been seeing a Polish girl and a Virgin Air stewardess in our block.”
“Bet she’s not a virgin anymore! Don’t even think about giving him a chance Jo. A dog like all the others.”
Sandy’s red locks seemed to glow like a beacon when she went into a man-hate rant. Joanna always found a way of making her click out of it.
“I think you’re going barking mad Sandy.”
Joanna heeded Sandy’s warnings, resolutely resisting Nat’s charm.
She felt great. All the months of power walking and curbing her wayward eating habits were paying off.
She was just over 10 stones after regular workouts with Nat who was still keen for a romance. Tempted as she was, Nat would never tick all her boxes. Apart from the age factor, he really was immature and after initial pleasantries had little meaningful to say. Joanna wanted someone who could hold a conversation that did not involve reality TV contestants, sport and PlayStation.
He was also extremely vain, spending more time and money on grooming, waxing and preening than Joanna and Sandy put together.
“Nat is the Gok Wan of security men,” Sandy joked. “If he was presenting ‘How to Look Good Naked’ he wouldn’t have anyone in the studio, just himself.”
He also seemed content with being a muscled security man for the rest of his life, possibly living well off his better-paid partner.
Sandy was right, he’s totally unsuitable.
Oozing with confidence from the weight loss, hair freshly styled and wardrobe bulging with the latest designer items, Joanna now had more options. Men at work asked her out. Even the married ones.
Construction site workers whistled and made sexist remarks – which she treated with disdain but secretly loved. Approaches for dates became an almost daily occurrence. But no one fitted the bill. The few she went out with were not quite right. Internet matching failed too.
As all her former school mates were turning 40 at the same time, Joanna reasoned that someone would have a big birthday party which would effectively be another school reunion.
Sure enough, Alice Kirkham - one of the friendliest girls from school - sent out an invitation on Facebook for a barbecue at her house in Wanstead. Everyone from the reunion was invited, including Gary Billings, Katie Thompson and The Cronies.
Joanna lived on home-made soup, salads and fruit, walked endlessly and drank gallons of water to help fill her up in the week leading up to Alice’s party. Stomach grumbling throughout, she was determined to hit the magic mark.
With a scream of delight she jumped off the scales. All the hard work and sacrifice had paid off. She showered, got Sandy to help with her hair, carefully applied make-up and slipped into a tight, white cotton dress and white cardigan.
“You look good girl,” Sandy purred. “Kim Kardashian’s body double.”
“Thanks Sandy. You’re looking great too after all that power walking. I’d say you could be Nicole Kidman’s double.”
“I’d take her bank balance any day, but not the fame. How could we go shopping at Westfield Stratford otherwise?”
“True, but if you had Kidman’s money it would be strictly Bond Street my friend.”
Nat would accompany her strictly for eye candy purposes although he thought this was the start of the romance. Bulging biceps stretching his white Ralph Lauren polo shirt to breaking point above blue skinny jeans, Nat complemented her perfectly.
Joanna strode into the expansive back garden of Alice’s house on Nat’s arm feeling the biggest rush ever as heads turned and conversations stopped.
They looked like a celebrity couple, feeling like Angelina must when stepping out with Brad, Joanna milked all the praise, ego massaged beyond her wildest expectations.
Gary Billings still didn’t remember her from school but this time he paid Joanna more attention than before, much to the disgust of his latest Barbie lookalike in micro-mini and six-inch white stilettos.
Gary, now the youth team coach at West Ham, even invited her to a game, making a point of asking her to come without Nat. She giggled, promising to bring Sandy.
The Cronies were uncharacteristically friendly. A couple even gave Joanna their business cards. She took them and tore them up in front of them.
But where was Katie? Officially, The Cronies claimed she was in New York on business but consensus was that her cocaine habit was now so bad she was in rehab. Crack and heroine was mentioned too.
Joanna left the barbecue still basking in the congratulations. The only dampener was that Katie hadn’t shown.
Nat pleaded with Joanna to end the perfect evening with an overnight stay, but she was in no mood for meaningless sex.
She pecked his cheek, thanked him and shooed him away like the naughty youngster she saw him as.
“At least you had a great night, Jo,” Sandy chirped the next day. “Don’t worry that Katie didn’t show, she’s bound to have heard of your new fabulous size from The Cronies.”
“Yes, but I wanted the satisfaction of her seeing the new me in person. No one recognised me when I arrived. Not even Alice. Having Nat along helped too. We pretended we were an item.”
“Glad you’re not. A dog, like all the rest. Stay clear of pretty boys, especially that one.”
Joanna felt energised. No longer feeling fatigued by the slightest exertion and embarrassed when meeting people, she decided to give back through charity work. It might even help her find a husband too, she thought.
The Red Cross looked as good a cause as any. Joanna decided to help on the soup runs in central London, giving out food, cigarettes and drinks to homeless people whilst Red Cross personnel gave basic medical care.
She quickly derived immense satisfaction from the soup runs and even built up friendships with the appreciative recipients. Not all homeless people come from de
prived, abusive backgrounds, she learned.
There was Basil who once worked on graphics on a Star Wars movie at Elstree Studios but lost the will to work and live normally because so many of his friends and family died around him in a short time.
Gordon used to run a successful printing firm but with the advance of technology the business collapsed and so did his marriage. He found solace in drink, which spiraled out of control that led to living on the streets.
Joanna befriended the talkative ones best. Some wanted to tell their whole life stories as soon as she introduced herself, but the majority were reticent.
Most took what was on offer but refused to engage with the volunteers, ashamed of their homelessness which Joanna respected.
Sandy suddenly stopped coming round and ringing. There was always an excuse, sometimes ridiculous; taking Louis to football, working late, ironing the curtains, painting the skirting boards, washing the dog… Joanna got tired of not getting her texts responded to and Sandy always allowing her phone to go to voicemail. When Sandy allowed the memory on her voicemail box to fill that’s when it looked all over. Her landline was supposedly not in service either. Joanna suspected she had simply changed it.
Nat said he hadn’t seen her for ages.
Wondering what she had done to deserve such a brush off, the next month Joanna went round to Sandy’s end of terrace house in Bow one night. Sandy opened the door slightly, evidently not in the mood for pleasantries.
“Have I said or done something to upset you Sandy because you seem to have terminated our friendship without letting me know why.”
“No, I’ve just been very, very busy. Sorry Jo, but I’ve got to go.”
Without waiting for a response, Sandy slammed the door. Joanna had glimpsed a man moving across the hallway. She walked to a window at the back of the house. Sandy was in a passionate embrace with someone Joanna knew well.
She returned to the front door, ringing the bell repeatedly until Sandy opened it ajar again.
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