by Lynsey James
The next morning, though I’m not entirely sure why, I find that last night’s workout session with Scott has put a new spin on my day. Instead of feeling obsessive about sticking to the Carb Counters regime and feeling guilty for any slip-ups, I feel a lot more carefree about my diet. When I meet Emma at the Silver Spoon for lunch, I think nothing of ordering a slice of red velvet cake to go with my tuna salad.
‘Praise the Lord and hallelujah!’ Emma grins, gesturing to it as it sits by my side. ‘How long have I been telling you to just eat the bloody cake?! One slice won’t make three stone go back on.’
I smile as I gather up some more salad. ‘And you’re right, as always! Plus, I had a session with Scott last night and—’
‘Woah there, Nelly!’ Emma drops her fork and it clatters off her plate, making the diners around us stare. ‘Back the truck up a bit! What’s this about a session with Scott?’
My smile brightens as I remember how good it felt to slam the ball into the ground, picturing Amanda’s face as I did. The power I felt at the time makes my skin tingle.
‘I needed to clear my head this morning,’ I explain, deciding not to go into detail about my almost-binge, ‘and I decided to head to the gym so I could sort things out with Scott. We had a chat about what happened after the speed-dating night, and he ended up giving me a personal training session. We did some boxing and ball slams.’
Emma raises one of her perfect eyebrows. ‘Ball slams, eh? Sounds… vaguely erotic!’
I narrow my eyes and laugh. ‘You really need to drag your mind out of the sewer, Emma Wallis! It’s just bouncing a medicine ball on the floor, but he told me to picture someone I was angry at when I was doing it. Guess who instantly popped into my head?’
‘The lovely Amanda, by any chance?’
‘Got it in one. I can’t explain it, Em, but doing that session with Scott made me feel… powerful, you know? Like I could climb Everest if I wanted to, and still have the energy to run the London Marathon. I’ve never felt like that at the gym before, or ever really.’
My best friend grins and reaches over the table to squeeze my hand. ‘I thought you looked a whole lot brighter today! It’s good to see you looking so happy; maybe you should make your sessions with Scott a regular thing? In more ways than one, if you know what I mean.’
She adds a cheeky wink, so I’m left in no doubt of exactly what she means.
‘I think it’s best we have a strictly professional relationship,’ I say, pushing my salad aside in favour of my slice of red velvet. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m reminded of the somersaults my stomach did when we high-fived. ‘We’ve already had one attempt at a date, which I ruined by overthinking things, so I think we should leave it there!’
Emma sticks her bottom lip out. ‘But I’ve already written the speech I was going to make at your wedding! And I bought a hat.’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘Knowing you, I wouldn’t put it past you! Nah, I think I’m better off out of the dating arena for a bit longer. There are too many rules and pitfalls, and I don’t think I’m ready to learn them all yet.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think you should give Scott another chance at a date. Give yourself another chance too, actually; I know you had that blip last time, but it’d probably be totally different if you went out with him again. Maybe next time, he’d sweep you off your feet and you could have the romance of the century. Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler would have nothing on you two. And it’d tick at least one thing off your bucket list.’
We slip into a companionable silence as we eat our cake. For once, I allow myself to enjoy it instead of fixating on the amount of calories I’m consuming. The taste explodes on my tongue and my heart does a happy little dance. Cake really does make the world a better place. I feel my conscience nagging away at me, telling me Emma’s right about giving Scott – and myself – another crack of the dating whip. I bat these thoughts away and concentrate on the delicious plate of food in front of me. I might be riding on a high from my training session, but that doesn’t mean I should make any rash decisions.
Even if Scott did look particularly delectable in the gym …
*
That night, it’s time to go round to Mum and Dad’s for dinner. I usually do it the night I have my Carb Counters meeting, but there’s a change of plans this week.
‘I can’t believe you’ve got tickets to see Stereophonics in Manchester and didn’t invite me,’ I say just after I’ve arrived. ‘I didn’t think they’d be your thing either. Aren’t you guys still listening to The Seekers or something?’
Mum playfully flicks her tea towel at me. ‘Excuse me, I think you’ll find your old mum and dad were pretty cool in their heyday! I’ve lost count of the number of gigs we went to when we were at uni in Manchester; we saw The Smiths, Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, you name it! Anyway, we would’ve got you a ticket but it’s on the same night as your… your meeting.’
I can tell she wants to make yet another derogatory comment about Marjorie and her group, but appreciate her stopping at the last minute. All the same, I can’t help but notice her slightly flared nostrils and sarcastic tone as she says the word “meeting”.
‘I could’ve got weighed early,’ I say, ‘and not stayed for the group sharing session. Anyway, it doesn’t matter; you two go and enjoy yourselves. Oh, and get me Kelly Jones’s autograph if you can.’
‘Sorry, darling, I just know how dedicated you are to that group,’ Mum replies as she bends down to check the roast chicken in the oven. ‘You’ve been going religiously for the last year, and I didn’t think you’d want to miss it.’
There’s a slightly frosty atmosphere between us, but I decide to ignore it. The last thing I want is another family dinner spoiled by tempers flaring over the same issues we’ve argued about a million times.
‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ she says with a tight smile. ‘Why don’t you have a seat?’
From the look on her face, I can tell there are a million things she’s dying to say to me, and that it’s taking everything she has to keep them inside. Without saying a word, I do as she says and sit at the table. Mum buzzes round the kitchen, making small talk and doing her best to sound cheerful. Part of me wants to tell her to just spit out whatever she wants to say and release the tension, but the other part of me just wants to eat my dinner in peace. I’m used to the simmering tension between Mum and me; it’s been there in one form or another for a very long time, but undoubtedly got worse when I joined Carb Counters.
‘Cleo?’ Mum’s voice breaks through my thoughts. ‘I said, do you want any parsnips?’
‘Oh!’ I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. ‘Yes, please. Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘I’m surprised Marjorie Newton allows parsnips in that regime of hers. I thought she banned everything that has a taste.’
I purse my lips. I knew the temptation would be too much for Mum to resist indefinitely.
‘Here we go again,’ I say. ‘I wondered how long it’d be before the Marjorie-bashing started. I know she’s a bit of a nightmare Mum, but she’s helped me lose so much weight. There’s no way I could’ve done it without her.’
Mum takes a deep breath and looks at me, her mouth set into a stern line. She looks like she’s about to spontaneously combust; she’s clutching the oven door handle and her knuckles have turned white.
‘Let’s change the subject before one of us says something we regret, shall we? What have you been doing lately?’
For a moment, I consider whether to pursue the argument brewing on the horizon, or fall into the small talk she’s set up.
I choose the latter. ‘Emma and I went to a speed-dating event at the Bell and Candle a couple of nights ago.’
This piques Mum’s interest and she tears herself away from the bubbling pots of vegetables on the oven to look at me.
‘Ooh, did you meet anyone nice?’ she asks, eyes widening with curiosity. Makes a change from her no
strils flaring in anger, I say to myself.
My mind turns to Scott and I can’t help but smile. ‘I did actually. His name’s Scott and he’s a gym instructor. We had a drink together, but…’ I stop myself from telling her about the less-than-ideal end to the date. ‘But we’ve decided to just be friends. There’s no spark between us.’
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
No sooner have the words left my mouth than my brain decides this is an ideal time to remind me of how I felt when we high-fived. The funny, flippy feeling comes back to my stomach and my heart starts to flutter.
‘Oh.’ Mum’s face falls and she goes back to checking the carrots and parsnips. ‘Well, never mind, eh? You’ll meet someone when the time’s right.’
The conversation comes to a halt as she takes the chicken out of the oven and prepares to dish up. Dad comes in and adds a convivial quality to the strained atmosphere with his easy chatter and tales from the pub. Gradually, the tension eases and, as I eat one of Mum’s amazing roasts, I feel myself relax more. The elephant in the room is still there, though: Mum’s deep-seated resentment towards Carb Counters and my weight loss. We always skirt round the subject, never getting to the heart of it and having it out with each other.
I wonder how I can prove to her that Carb Counters isn’t just about weight loss for me; that the weekly meetings help me live a healthy lifestyle that’s actually sustainable. Saying those things to her hasn’t worked over the last year, so I’m not sure what will. She seems utterly convinced that, sooner or later, I’ll be driven back to my old habits of binge-eating and diet pills. I’ve told her I’ll never let that happen, but she won’t listen. It hurts me that she doesn’t get excited about my progress or congratulate me when I reach a new target. I’ve made such an effort to make positive changes in my life, but she brushes them off because of what happened before.
As I watch her eat and chat happily away to my dad about their upcoming night away in Manchester, I realise I’m going to have to talk to her about it soon, before everything explodes.
*
Going into the bakery the following morning provides a welcome distraction from my problems with Mum. It’s my turn to open up today and, as I walk across the village green, I can’t help but smile at my surroundings. You’d never guess Silverdale was just a few miles outside Manchester; it looks like a village from a storybook. The cottages look like they’re made from gingerbread, the grass is lush and green, and there’s a serene calmness about the place that I haven’t encountered anywhere else. There’s nowhere quite like Silverdale.
It’s Fred’s day off today, so I’ve got the place all to myself. After making some loaves of bread and some batches of rolls, I turn my attention to the cupcakes and pastries. My thoughts immediately switch to my bucket list again. I’ve ticked off do something that scares me by agreeing to go to the reunion, conquering my body issues is still a work in progress, and let myself fall in love hasn’t really got off the ground yet.
So which other dreams should I focus on?
Booking a sky-dive could be done relatively easily, it’s actually doing it that’s the problem, given how I hate the thought of jumping out of a plane. To learn a new language, I could download one of those apps onto my phone. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? Finding a way to dance again is a really tempting one, but my attempts haven’t been very successful so far…
Now isn’t the time to be thinking about sky-diving and learning a new language, though; I have a job to do. I walk over to the door and flip the sign from Closed to Open, preparing for the morning deluge of customers looking for a quick breakfast snack on their way to work.
I’m not quite sure what makes me look out of the window. Maybe it’s the high heels clicking against the pavement, or the shiver up my spine that lets me know she’s coming closer. Whatever it is, I look up and see Amanda walking towards the bakery.
Oh shit.
I brace myself for this latest confrontation and immediately put my guard up. My last couple of encounters with her have proven I can handle her, so I’ve got nothing to be afraid of.
‘Morning, Cleo,’ she says with a quick smirk. ‘Are you sore after your little workout the other day?’
‘A bit,’ I reply, deciding that keeping my replies short and sweet is the best way forward. ‘How about you? Did you have a good session with Scott?’
I step back behind the counter, preferring to keep some distance between me and my arch-enemy. Having the glass display cases in the way feels comforting in some strange way.
‘He definitely brought his A game, that’s for sure. It’s nice to have finally met a man who can keep up with me. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?’
Amanda leans on the counter and looks at me, awaiting my response. It’s like that scene in Mean Girls where Regina wants Cady to tell Aaron his hair looks sexy pushed back. My knowledge of early noughties teen movies is going to come in very handy here.
‘Yeah, he is, if you like that sort of thing.’ My voice is light and breezy, while the smile on my face hides how shaky I’m feeling. ‘Now, what can I get you?’
Amanda looks vaguely taken aback by how calm I appear to be. Although my legs are like jelly and I’d love nothing more than to run and hide somewhere, I seem to be doing really well.
‘Nothing. Actually I just came in for a… friendly chat. I’ve got to say, I can’t believe how much you’ve changed since we left school. I mean, you almost look… well, normal now. Did those diet pills finally do their stuff? You’ve come a long way from being Chunky Monkey, that’s for sure.’
The nickname stings a little, but it’s definitely lost some of its power since my workout with Scott. The remark about the diet pills, however, cuts me deeper than I’m willing to admit.
‘No,’ I say through gritted teeth, ‘I think I’ve done a pretty good job at leaving that name behind.’
Amanda pauses for a second and licks her lips. She vaguely reminds me of a lion stalking some unsuspecting prey, knowing they’ve got it right where they want it. She’s about to drop a bombshell, I just know it.
‘I actually spoke to Scott about you. He thinks a lot of you, doesn’t he?’ Her voice is laced with that trademark bitterness I know so well.
It’s poker-face time. No matter what she says, I can’t let her see she bothers me. ‘Does he? I don’t know.’
‘Oh, he thinks you’re the bee’s knees,’ Amanda snaps. ‘At least that’s what he said before he agreed to go out for a drink with me next week. One thing, though – he seemed a bit confused when I told him about your little binge-eating phase and that messy business with the diet pills. Said he didn’t know anything about that. Oops.’
Ouch. Her words sting, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let her know that.
I clench my hands into fists as anger boils inside me. ‘It wasn’t your place to discuss that with him, Amanda! That happened years ago; how dare you bring that up?!’
She puts a hand to her chest and opens her mouth. ‘I thought you’d already told him, sweetie! You two seemed so close; I just assumed you’d mentioned it already. Mind you, I can see why you wouldn’t. It’s not really the type of thing you want getting out, is it? Might scare him off, if you know what I mean.’
‘I’m not ashamed of it, if that’s what you’re saying,’ I snap back. ‘It happened and it was horrible, but I’m not that person any more, Amanda!’
The cat-like grin returns, just as powerful as always. ‘Glad to hear it. You really have come a long way since Silverdale Comprehensive, haven’t you? That’s actually why I came here: I thought you could do a speech at the reunion.’
I feel the colour leave my face, but try not to show how rattled I am. Public speaking is my idea of hell.
‘Me?’ I croak. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, Amanda! I don’t really like public speaking—’
‘Don’t be silly!’ she cuts across me. ‘You’ve left Chunky Monkey behind, so delivering a speech in front of a hundred people should be a pi
ece of cake. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to show everybody how much you’ve changed in the last ten years. I’ve told everyone you’re doing it and they’re all really excited. Anyway, can’t stop. Got lots to do! Ciao for now.’
I take a deep breath and let myself sink back against the counter, heaving a deep sigh. In the silence that surrounds me, I process the things Amanda said. She’s going on a date – an actual date – with Scott. I badly wish I didn’t care at all, but I do. My insides twist as I picture him with Amanda. She’ll be an absolute knockout as she always is, and he won’t be able to take his eyes off her. He might even wonder how he got so lucky as to have her notice him. Amanda has that effect on men; she makes them feel it’s a privilege for them to have her attention and that they’d better do everything they can to keep it.
Part of me hopes she’s making it up, but something tells me she isn’t. The self-congratulatory grin on her face told me everything I needed to know: Scott has chosen her. I might’ve imagined some kind of energy between us, but I was clearly wrong. I wish it were different, but it isn’t.
We’ll just be friends, and I’m absolutely fine with that.
At least that’s what I tell myself, over and over again.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Come si chiama?’
I repeat the phrase as per my brand-new language tape’s instructions, trying to get as close to the narrator’s pronunciation as I can. As I listen to myself, I risk a little smile. So far, so good. Although I definitely don’t parlo italiano yet, I’m at least taking steps to learn. It’s part of ticking off learn a new language on my new ultimate bucket list, and the only one that doesn’t involve an element of risk or relying on other people. Absently, I check my phone to see if I’ve heard from Scott. No new messages. Can’t say I blame him; Amanda will have done her best to paint the worst portrait possible of me. I still can’t believe she told him about what was arguably the worst time of my life. I’ve worked so hard to leave it in the past where it belongs, although sometimes that’s easier said than done.