by Lynsey James
Scott digs into his pocket and pulls out a small white card. ‘My contact details are on there. Whenever you’re ready to book a session, just give me a call and we’ll arrange something.’
He presses it onto my palm and our hands touch for a brief second. My stomach does a funny little flip that I try very hard to ignore.
‘Thanks for this.’ I smile and stick the card in my purse. ‘I-I’d love to have a session with you.’
Oh balls.
‘Would you? Very interesting!’ Scott laughs and strokes his stubble.
I try to style out my double entendre with a chuckle and rub the back of my neck. ‘A gym session, I mean, not a… I-I’d better get going!’
I take off in the direction of the changing rooms as fast as I can, wondering if I’ve embarrassed myself enough to warrant joining another gym.
*
Meeting Emma for a post-workout bite to eat makes a complicated day a thousand times worse. Not least because the subject of speed-dating is brought up.
‘It’s a really good idea,’ she says, pointing her fork at me. ‘You could find a ridiculously hot date to take to the reunion, and your new bucket list says you want to let yourself fall in love. You could kill two birds with one stone by going to the speed-dating event at the pub next week. Come on, it’ll be fun!’
‘I dunno, Emma, I’ve never fancied the idea of speed-dating; it all seems a bit impersonal. I really want to tick off stuff on my new bucket list, but I don’t think speed-dating’s going to help with the whole falling in love thing.’
Emma grunts in frustration. ‘How do you know unless you try? You might meet the love of your life for all you know! He could walk into the room, sit down at your table and bam! You’re getting a joint bank account and picking out kids’ names before you know it.’
I roll my eyes and laugh. ‘You know, I’d love to live in the world you live in. Everything’s so simple! You watch way too many romantic comedies, you know that, right?’
‘You’ve got me there,’ Emma agrees. ‘All jokes aside, we’ll have loads of fun if we go to this thing together. I mean, can you imagine the kind of blokes who’ll turn up to a speed-dating event in Silverdale? It’ll be a laugh if nothing else.’
‘OK,’ I say with a sigh, ‘I’ll do it. I’m not buying all that “you’ll find the love of your life” stuff, but it’ll be interesting to see who turns up!’
Emma’s face breaks out into a beaming grin, and she starts babbling excitedly about how much fun it’ll be. As I listen to her, I stop for a moment to process what’s happened over the last few days. I’ve made a bucket list, agreed to go to a school reunion, and now I’m going speed-dating. I almost don’t recognise myself. The Cleo who stayed hidden in the shadows and watched other people have fun is a thing of the past. For the first time in over a decade, I’m opening myself up to new possibilities and adventures.
Who knows what will happen next?
Chapter Eight
One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced since joining Carb Counters is learning how to eat healthily. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who’ll disagree with me when I say it’s much easier to stick a pizza in the oven than make one from a tube of passata and a tortilla wrap.
However, I’ve come to find I actually enjoy cooking. I’m even quite good at it, although I’m much better at baking. On tonight’s menu is homemade chicken and peanut butter curry, followed by some healthy brownie bites for pudding. As I stir the chicken coated in the curry sauce, I feel the aromas ensnare my senses. My mouth begins to water and my heart does a happy little dance in anticipation. I chuckle as I remember the time Marjorie tried to make ‘healthy’ sauce substitutes and sell them at meetings.
‘These are delicious alternatives to all those calorie-laden ones you get in the shops,’ she’d claimed. ‘Now you can enjoy all your favourite meals guilt-free. How fabulous is that?!’
Not really, as it had turned out. For all of Marjorie’s wild claims, she’s actually a terrible cook and the sauces were rancid. Not least because she’d added way too much vinegar to the sweet and sour sauce, and overloaded the curry sauce with chilli powder.
It’s time to taste my own creation. Carefully, I dip my finger into the sauce and put it to my lips. Just right, I think. It’s rich and creamy but with a little kick of chilli to stop it being bland. After a quick check to see the rice is properly cooked, I tip some of it onto a plate and take it through to the living room with me. My stomach grumbles impatiently as I sit down at my computer desk to tuck into it. Before I have a mouthful, I shake the mouse to bring up the screen I’d been looking at. I’m logged into Facebook and have Adam Hartwell’s name typed into the search bar. Before I’d gone to make my tea, I’d been about to look him up for the first time in ten years. Apprehension – plus my growling stomach – stopped me, but now I’m determined. There’s nothing a good chicken curry can’t help you accomplish, after all.
My finger hovers over the Enter key and I’m just inches away from pressing it when the doorbell rings. I give a grunt of frustration as I haul myself up from my ridiculously uncomfortable computer chair; why do people always call round at the important moments? I throw open the door and find Emma standing outside, holding a huge bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands.
‘Hey!’ I try not to make my surprise too obvious, in case I’ve invited her round and forgotten. ‘You look… erm… happy!’
Emma chuckles as she makes her way inside. ‘Don’t worry, you haven’t done that thing where you tell me to come round then forget again! I just thought I’d pop round with a bottle of wine to celebrate you agreeing to come to the speed-dating thing with me next week. It’s not every day I get you to try something new, so we should make the most of it! Ooh, is that your peanut butter curry I can smell?’
‘Yup, there’s still some in the pan if you fancy it? I was going to freeze it for later in the week, but you can have it.’
Emma dashes through to the kitchen to claim her plate of food, while I follow to pour the wine. She’s like a kid at Christmas as she pours the rice and curry mixture onto a plate, and I can’t help but smile.
‘How are you feeling about the speed-dating event anyway?’ she asks as we make our way through to the living room. ‘It should be fun, I reckon. What do you think?’
I recognise the tone of her voice; she’s trying to make sure I won’t back out and leave her to go on her own. It’s a tone I’ve heard many times before when we’ve had something planned.
‘If you want me to be honest, I’m petrified,’ I reply, ‘but I’m actually kind of looking forward to going as well. Like you said, it’ll get me out of my comfort zone for a bit, and it’s stopping me from worrying so much about the reunion.’
Emma smiles, but it’s an uncertain one. ‘You’ve got nothing to be terrified about, Cleo. You’ll have a great time. I bet you end up meeting someone really nice, then you can take him to the reunion and rub it in Adam’s face.’
Although I don’t want to admit it, the thought of getting Adam back for humiliating me at the Leavers’ Dance is a tempting one. The feeling of cold punch being poured over me by the lovely Amanda while Adam looked on in hysterics still makes my blood boil.
Her eyes fall on my computer and she moves closer to get a better look at the screen. She turns to face me with a smile playing on her lips.
‘Ah, so you were about to look him up, were you?’ She gives a little chuckle and leans against the desk as she tucks into her curry. ‘What stopped you?’
‘Well, I was starving so I decided to make my curry. Oh, and I’m also a massive wuss. Close it down – we can see if there’s anything good on TV.’
From the look on Emma’s face, I know a quiet night in front of the TV isn’t what she has in mind. Judging by that mischievous smile, putting our feet up is the last thing we’ll be doing.
‘I don’t think so, missy,’ she says with a grin. ‘Why don’t we see what Mr Hartwell’s been up to
for the last ten years? Couldn’t hurt, seeing as the reunion’s coming up, right?’
I open my mouth to disagree, but Emma’s already pressed the Enter button and is making herself comfortable. I run over to the computer as fast as my legs will carry me, careful not to drop any of my delicious curry.
‘Here he is!’ Emma’s face lights up as she clicks on the top profile. ‘What do you think?’
She wiggles the screen round so I can get a proper look at him. As soon as I see his picture, my breath catches in my throat. Although he looks older now, some things about him haven’t changed at all. He still has the same licorice-black hair, huge puppy-dog eyes and that mischievous grin that used to make my insides do backflips. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel those same butterflies looking at him now.
‘Wow…’ The rest of my words dry up in my mouth before I can say them. ‘He’s… the same as always. Good to know.’
Emma turns to look at me, arms folded and face set into a stern expression. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still attracted to him. He humiliated you in front of everyone at school, in case you’ve forgotten.’
I shake my head and make some spluttering noises. ‘Of course I’m not! I stopped liking that loser years ago; I was just looking him up so I could see if his hairline had started to recede, that’s all.’
My best friend narrows her eyes in that special I’m-on-to-you way that suggests she doesn’t believe me. Can’t say I blame her; even I know I’m lying this time.
‘Mmm-hmm. This just goes to show that the speed-dating event’s come along at the perfect time. You’ll get back in the dating game again and shake off that crush on Adam Hartwell for good. Or if all else fails, you could ask that gorgeous guy you were talking to in the pub the other night. What was his name, Scott?’
My cheeks start to burn as soon as his name’s mentioned. ‘I can’t ask him to the reunion; he’s just a bloke who works at the gym I hardly go to! I’ve only spoken to him a few times, so I can’t see him jumping at the chance to go to the reunion with me. I’ll give the speed-dating a try, but I’m not promising anything, OK?’ I retreat back to the safety of the couch, hoping to entice Emma over for a night of trashy reality TV. ‘Oh, and I do not have a crush on Adam Hartwell any more.’
At least I don’t THINK I do…
Emma puts down her curry and, right away, I know she means business. She wouldn’t abandon her favourite meal for nothing.
‘I actually came round for another reason,’ she says. ‘I’ve been thinking about your bucket list and I want to help you do as much of it as I can. So I decided to come round for a brainstorming session to see how we can make some of them happen. What do you think?’
My heart swells with joy and I even feel a lump form in my throat. Emma’s always been my biggest supporter, telling me I can do anything I put my mind to. I always went along with her daft schemes when we were kids, so it’s quite fitting she’s returning the favour now.
When I don’t immediately answer, she continues, ‘We could get quite a few done before the reunion too! That’ll show Amanda, even though you obviously didn’t make the bucket list to impress her. You’re doing it for yourself and I think it’s bloody awesome. Hopefully you’ll see you’re capable of doing extraordinary things instead of selling yourself short. What do you say? Will you let me help you?’
The memory of Mum telling me I’m only capable of doing small things crosses my mind. The stab of pain in my heart makes my answer laughably simple.
‘Go on then.’ My voice trembles slightly, but my resolve doesn’t waver. ‘You’re on.’
Chapter Nine
The speed-dating event comes around a lot sooner than I’d like. I was perfectly fine with it when it was a week away, but now it’s here I’m wondering what the hell I’ve let myself in for. I continually remind myself I’m doing it not only to push myself out of my comfort zone, but also to potentially tick something off my bucket list. Let myself fall in love is by far the hardest, so the sooner I make a start on it the better. I’ve already ticked off do something that scares me by agreeing to go the reunion and made a start on conquering my body issues, so I’m on a bit of a roll. Hopefully that’ll continue tonight.
Before I inflict myself on some poor, unsuspecting strangers, I have a Carb Counters meeting to get through. I’m so nervous that I’m not even tempted by the prospect of a slice of cake in the Silver Spoon. I stand in the queue, palms sweating and my brain working overtime to produce a list of all the things that could go wrong at the speed-dating night. Emma’s skipped this meeting because she has to work, so I’m on my own. Much as I don’t envy her very stressful job as a legal secretary, I can’t help wishing I had work to keep me away from this meeting.
‘How’s your week been?’ a voice behind me asks.
I turn round and see Zara standing behind me. She’s clutching her member pack and pink card, a look of apprehension etched onto her face.
‘Not too bad,’ I reply. ‘I’ve had a couple of treats I shouldn’t have had, but I’ve been OK overall. What about you? Did you try any more recipes in the Carb Counters cookbook?’
Zara throws her head back and lets out a snort. ‘Have I hell! Those recipes are rubbish; they’ve either got a million ingredients you’ve never heard of or they taste like boiled up roadkill and broken dreams.’
I try my best to stifle a chuckle, but it totally fails. ‘Don’t let Marjorie hear you say that, the cookbook’s her baby! You’re right, though; after the coconut pork made me ill for two days, I threw the book in the bin.’
Zara shudders and we share a private giggle together, until Marjorie scuttles across to us.
‘Ladies, how are you doing today?’ Her false smile stretches a little further than necessary and she puts a hand on each of our shoulders. ‘Cleo, a little bird told me you’ve been seen in the Silver Spoon this week. We all know how much you love their red velvet cake, don’t we? Tut tut, I hope the scales are kind to you this week.’
She turns her attention from me to Zara. ‘I don’t want to sound like a bossy boots, Zara, but could we perhaps have less of the IVF talk this week? We really should be sticking to health, food and fitness; it’s not a counselling group, after all.’
Zara’s eyebrows lower and her entire face sours. ‘Funny, the Carb Counters handbook says “we’re not just here to help you drop the pounds, but reach for the stars”. Or does that not apply in this group? Maybe I should ring Claudine Parish to find out.’
Marjorie’s face pales at the mention of Carb Counters’ founder. Claudine is known for being absolutely terrifying; she makes random visits to groups whenever she feels like it and the leader usually ends up getting a dressing-down.
‘No, no, that won’t be necessary.’ It’s pretty funny to hear the panic in Marjorie’s voice. ‘Y-you’re absolutely right, Zara… I-if you’ll excuse me, I have to…’
She marches off to bark some orders at Linda, leaving Zara and I in a fit of the giggles.
‘I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Marjorie lost for words!’ I try my best to regain some composure, but it’s hopeless. ‘You deserve a medal or something.’
Zara shakes her head. ‘She just needs putting in her place sometimes. I don’t know if you know this, but she was actually a Carb Counters member herself once upon a time. Came in weighing twenty stone and lost ten in eighteen months. Then she decided to become a group leader and the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘So how did she get to be the way she is?’ I ask. ‘Surely she can’t always have been so… uptight!’
I ask my question too late; it’s my turn to jump on the scales. That familiar knot of anxiety makes its presence felt and my stomach starts doing its gymnastics routine. As I approach the scales, I mentally run through everything I’ve eaten in the last seven days. Have I cheated at all? Apart from the bite to eat in the café with Emma, I can’t think of anything else, but what if I…?
‘Are you ready, love?’ Linda’
s looking at me as though I might burst into tears any minute. ‘I don’t want to rush you, but the group meeting’s starting in a few minutes.’
I give myself a good shake, take a deep breath and step on. It’s just a number, I say to myself, don’t worry about it.
Easier said than done.
*
After I find out I’ve put on a pound this week, I take one of the seats in the circle. Zara plonks herself down next to me after she’s been weighed.
‘Did the scales treat you nicely this week?’ she asks with a smile. ‘Half a pound off for me, but I was out for Craig’s birthday this week so I’m just glad it’s not a gain!’
‘Pound on for me,’ I say with a shrug. ‘I’m a bit disappointed, but I did go to the café for cake with Emma so I suppose I deserved it!’
Inside, I’m trying desperately hard not to beat myself up. Keeping my smile in place is proving difficult, but so far I haven’t let it slip.
Zara gives me a nudge. ‘Life without cake isn’t worth living! I know Marjorie rabbits on and on about eating right or the jeans will be tight, but you’ve got to treat yourself sometimes. It’s the only thing that makes all the hard work worthwhile. Don’t be so hard on yourself, eh?’
I manage a weak smile and look at Zara, finding myself wondering why it took me so long to speak to her. She’s got a kind, open face and a warm smile, plus she loves cake as much as I do.
‘OK, everyone, are we ready to get started?’ Marjorie takes her place in the centre of the circle, addressing everyone with those beady eyes of hers. ‘Now, we’ve had a few gains this week – Paul, Cleopatra, Sheila and Karen, I’m looking at you four – and that’s obviously a huge disappointment, since I’ve equipped all of you for your journey to weight loss. Nevertheless, we have some people who know how to follow the Carb Counters plan properly. Why don’t you stand up and tell them how it’s done, Samantha?’
Although you can’t actually hear it, I feel a collective groan as a tiny brunette with a body that would make a Victoria’s Secret model jealous stands up. There are two tiny gold pins fastened to her flowery blouse: one shaped like a bowl of pasta, the other like a pair of angel wings.