by Lynsey James
I pat Marjorie’s arm and she glares at me. ‘You can’t think like that. Maybe they’ve just had a lot on in their personal lives, or something’s happened that means they haven’t been able to follow the plan as well as they’d like. A gain doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve failed in any way, or that the member has. The best way to approach it is to encourage them to smash their targets for the next meeting, instead of taking it to heart and making them feel bad.’
She lets out a strangled howl and gets up to pace round the empty community centre. ‘See, this is why Claudine thinks you’d be such a good leader! You just get it in a way I’ll never be able to. For what it’s worth, I’ve always liked you. I know I’ve been terrible at showing it, as well as at everything else, and I’m sorry. You should ring Claudine and tell her you’d like to do the Inspire programme. I think you’d be brilliant.’
Marjorie grabs the huge gym bag she brings with her to every session and heads for the door. She looks utterly deflated and it breaks my heart.
‘Marjorie, wait!’ I jog after her as she makes her way across the community centre car park. She stops and I grind to a halt in front of her. ‘Why don’t you ask Claudine if you could do the Inspire programme again? Maybe as a refresher or something. You could be a fantastic leader, you just need a boost is all.’
She manages a faint smile, but shakes her head. ‘It’s a lovely thought, Cleo, but I’m just not cut out for it. I could do the course twenty times over and I’d still be the snappy, sarcastic old bag I’ve always been. Believe me, I’d love to believe I’m leader material but I’m not. I know my limitations.’
As she turns to walk to her car, I put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t give up yet! I’m sure if you told Claudine you wanted to go through the training again, she’d—’
‘But I don’t! I know I’m no good at inspiring people or bringing the best out of them and, believe it or not, I’ve made peace with that. If I thought doing the training again would be worthwhile, I’d do it. I think I’ll be much better off finding something I’m actually good at. I’m really glad you’re taking Claudine up on her offer. I don’t want to hand my group over to just anyone!’
We exchange friendly smiles and Marjorie heads over to her red VW Beetle. As she drives off, she gives me a little wave and I feel a lump rise in my throat. This could be the start of something wonderful.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emma’s absolutely thrilled when I tell her about me and Scott. She’s less than pleased to hear about the whole Natalie business, but I assure her everything’s been smoothed out.
‘He explained himself and Zara backed him up,’ I say as we make ourselves comfortable on my couch to watch our favourite reality TV shows. ‘He can’t do any more than that, really.’
‘Well, as long as things between you and Scott are good, that’s the main thing. Hey, maybe you two could double date with me and Ben one night! How fun would that be?’
As Emma chats away happily, bouncing date ideas off me, I can’t help but smile. It’s nice to feel part of something and I feel like a whole world of possibilities is opening up for me. Emma and I have never been able to go on double dates before, mostly because I was too scared to even contemplate going out with someone. Now, suddenly, it’s an option and I love it.
‘Bring it on!’ I reply, just as the reality show’s theme music starts to play.
My enthusiasm surprises me as well as Emma. Even the thought of double dating would’ve made the old Cleo run a mile. Now, however, it doesn’t faze me. Well, maybe a tiny bit, but we can let that go, can’t we? Right now, it feels like I can conquer the world.
*
Seeing Amanda the next day at work doesn’t bother or surprise me. Although she put the fear of God in me when she first made her grand return to Silverdale, I’ve grown used to her poisonous presence around the village.
‘What a surprise seeing you surrounded with food,’ she says when she walks in. ‘What did I say at the pub a couple of nights ago? Once a Chunky Monkey, always a Chunky Monkey.’
‘You’re slipping, Amanda. Didn’t think joke recycling was your thing. Maybe you’re just running out of material. Can I get you anything or did you just come in to be nasty?’
‘Just thought I’d come and see how your speech for the reunion is coming along,’ she replies with an insipid smile. ‘You didn’t think I was going to forget about that, did you? Come on, Cleopatra, it’s going to be the highlight of the evening!’
I don’t want her to know I haven’t even started writing it yet, so I decide some styling out is required.
‘My speech is coming along fine, thanks. I can’t wait to tell everyone about my all-new and improved bucket list. I’ve made a great start on it; might even have to make another one!’
Amanda’s top lip curls a little, but her smile is back in place within seconds.
‘Excellent. Can’t wait for the big night. It’s only three weeks away now. Oh, and you’ll never guess who asked about you the other day. Adam Hartwell.’
The name sets my teeth on edge, but I’m not going to let Amanda know that. Instead, I plaster the sweetest smile I can muster on my face.
‘Oh really? I haven’t thought about him in ages! How’s he doing?’
And the award for Best Actress goes to…
Amanda looks miffed she hasn’t managed to get a reaction out of me. ‘He’s fine, doing really well for himself. He works as a risk analyst for a huge London bank. We’ve kept in contact over the years; it’s good when you can be friends with your ex, isn’t it? Not that you’d really have much experience of that. If I remember, you didn’t really do dating back at school.’
‘Nope,’ I agree, ‘but I’ve made up for it since then.’
Amanda scoffs and rolls her eyes. ‘It’s sweet you think Scott’s going to stick around. My guess is he’ll get sick of you pretty soon and realise he can do much better. I mean, look at him and look at you. Talk about punching above your weight, Cleo.’
Before she can continue with her barrage of insults, her phone rings. When she pulls it out of her bag and looks at the screen, her expression changes. I’ve never seen her look more scared than she does right now. She steps away to answer the call, keeping her voice hushed.
‘Hello? No, not yet… I know how important it is, but… No, I understand. Tomorrow? No, I can’t do that, can we…? OK, OK… Look, I’ve got to go, can we talk about this some other time? Yes, I know it’s not going to go away! Bye.’
Her shoulders drop and I’m sure I can hear her crying. I step out from behind the counter and go over to her. She might be a poisonous cow, but she’s clearly upset about something.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask. ‘I can get you some tissues if you like?’
‘Everything’s fine!’ she snaps. ‘I just… Oh, what would you know about anything anyway? It’s not like you’ve ever done anything with your life!’
Without saying another word, she storms off out of the shop and across the village green. I watch as she stops and sits down on the bench in the centre, throwing her head into her hands and crying. I wonder whether I should go over to her, but she quickly gathers herself and hurries away.
Maybe Zara was right about Amanda having her own problems to deal with. Whatever that phone call was about, it was enough to seriously rattle her, which is a rare occurrence. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her get upset. Perhaps her life isn’t as successful and perfect as she’d like everyone to believe.
*
It doesn’t take long for Claudine to get me on to an Inspire course. They run fairly regularly and three days after I accept her offer I’m sitting in a large room with a name badge pinned to my chest and looking nervously around. It’s only two days a week, so sorting out the shifts at the bakery with Fred was no problem. Everybody’s clutching their pink folders and keeping themselves to themselves as we wait for the course to begin. There’s something quite comforting about knowing everyone here has bee
n on a journey of some sort. The way they were living wasn’t making them happy any more, so they all decided to make a change and it brought them to Carb Counters.
‘Hi there, everyone!’ The ridiculously perky course leader steps up to the podium at the front of the room and addresses us all with a slightly rictus grin. ‘Are you all ready to become the next generation of Carb Counters leaders?’
We all shout “yes” with varying degrees of enthusiasm. As the course leader – or Debbie, as her name badge yells out in neon pink letters – runs through what we’re going to be doing over the next month, I feel excitement course through my veins.
‘First we’ll be learning about the founding principles of Carb Counters, then we’ll look at what makes a good leader and also some public speaking skills so we can really get our classes motivated. Who’s ready to get started?’ she asks.
I throw my hands up in the air with the rest of the group, eager to see where this new adventure will take me.
*
That night, after I get home from my first day at Inspire, it’s time for my second official date with Scott. Our venue is a gorgeous modern restaurant in Manchester. I can’t help but feel a little intimidated; it’s not my usual sort of place, with its high vaulted ceilings and pricey menu. The fifties diner we went to four days ago was much more my scene.
‘It’s beautiful here,’ I say, looking at my new surroundings, then at my leatherbound menu. ‘I can’t decide what to order!’
‘I’m torn between the pan-seared duck and the scallops…’ Scott pauses and shuts his menu. ‘Be honest with me, Cleo; is this your sort of place?’
My eyes dart from left to right, in case any of the impeccably dressed serving staff are about to approach us.
‘If I’m honest… not really!’ I giggle. ‘I liked the place we went to before much better.’
He nods. ‘This isn’t my kind of food either; I just booked a table here because it’s posh and I wanted to impress you. There’s a great pizza place down the road if you fancy going there instead?’
I nod and we quietly slip out before anyone notices. Luckily, we hadn’t even placed a drinks order. After a quick trip through the revolving door, we’re out on the busy city street.
‘I’ll make a mental note not to book anywhere fancy again!’ he grins. ‘I just wanted to show you a good time, that’s all.’
‘If I can’t pronounce anything on the menu, or there’s some sort of chemical cooking involved, I give it a wide berth!’ I slip my hand into his as we walk down the street, presumably to the great pizza place he’s told me about.
‘Here we are,’ he says, stopping outside a tiny little takeaway that’s sandwiched between a betting shop and a dry cleaner’s. ‘It might be little, but it does the best pizza in Manchester hands down. What do you fancy?’
You, I badly want to reply, but don’t at the risk of sounding completely cheesy.
‘Um, I’ll have pepperoni, please.’
‘Excellent choice,’ he replies with a smile. ‘They do amazing chocolate cookies as well, if you fancy those?’
A bright grin pops onto my face. ‘Chocolate cookies are always a good idea!’
I know I should probably be setting an example now I’m training to be a Carb Counters leader, but there’s no way anybody sticks to the diet one hundred per cent of the time.
Scott heads inside – I can’t imagine there’s room for two people in the tiny little place – while I wait outside. I open up my Facebook app and happen to stumble ontp Amanda’s profile. By “stumble onto”, I mean I searched for her on purpose. Maybe there’s a clue on her social media about that phone call from earlier.
As predicted, there’s nothing. Just a stream of smiley selfies and group pictures taken with her beautiful friends. Although I’m not friends with her, her entire profile is public, presumably so everyone can see how perfect she is. It seems to be the life she wants everyone to think she lives, rather than the one she actually lives. To look at her profile, you’d think she lived a charmed life: frequent trips to cocktail bars, sun-soaked beach holidays where she sports various brightly coloured bikinis, and a succession of hunky men. Yet today’s phone call suggested her life is anything but perfect.
‘Two pizzas and some chocolate cookies!’ Scott announces in an I-am-man-I-provide-food sort of way. ‘Why don’t we take these over to Cathedral Gardens? It’s really nice there.’
‘Lead the way!’ I reply, shoving my phone back in my bag. My unusual interest in my enemy’s private life can wait until later.
*
Although I’ve been to Manchester hundreds of times over the years, I’ve never visited Cathedral Gardens until tonight. And, as I look around at the stunning surroundings, I wonder why I’ve never made the time to come here before.
‘This is gorgeous,’ I say, leaning my head back on the cool grass. ‘And this pizza is delicious!’
Scott smiles and props himself up with his elbow. ‘So this is more your cup of tea then? Pizza and cookies in front of the Printworks?’
‘Definitely.’ I grab another slice of pizza and let out a contented sigh. ‘There’s something… magical about Manchester, isn’t there?’
‘Yeah, I think it’s having everything going on around you, like the city never quite sleeps. Have you ever thought about moving here?’
I look at the people coming and going from the Printworks and the surrounding buildings. Scott’s right, the city’s always teeming with life.
‘I never considered it before,’ I admit. ‘When I was younger, I wanted to go to New York, then, after my accident, I ended up staying in Silverdale. Funny how things change, isn’t it?’
I wait for the usual stab of pain when I think of how differently my life has turned out, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel nothing but contentment as I see Scott smiling over at me.
‘Life has a habit of pulling you in a completely different direction sometimes. I reckon we always end up where we’re meant to be, though, one way or another.’
He slides across to me and lies back on the grass next to me, taking my hand in his and lacing our fingers together. As the organised chaos of Manchester thrums around us, punctuated by roars of traffic, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
‘Talking of new directions,’ he continues, ‘how was your first day on the Inspire course?’
I smile as I recall everyone throwing themselves into the day’s activities. ‘It was great. Today was just like an introduction to everything we’ll be learning, but it was really interesting. I can’t wait to get started with my own group now!’
Scott brings my hand up to his and kisses it. ‘You’ll be brilliant and the Silverdale group will be lucky to have you.’
‘Listen… I’ve got something to ask you,’ I say, my words trembling a bit. ‘You know this reunion I’m going to… Do you fancy coming with me? You can say no if you like, but I’d love to have you there.’
Scott rolls onto his side and rests his head on his upturned palm.
‘I’d love to,’ he replies with a smile.
He reaches down and kisses me, just like that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
With just two weeks to go until the big school reunion, Emma and I take a trip to Manchester to go dress shopping. This mostly involves Emma grabbing dozens of dresses to try on and me loitering round the racks pretending to browse. I’m not what you’d call a natural shopaholic.
‘What do you think of this one?’ She steps out from behind the changing room, wearing a royal blue floor-length Grecian dress with diamante detailing. ‘I love it, but I’m not sure if it makes me look fat.’
She does a little twirl and I stick two thumbs up. ‘I think that’s the one!’
‘Really? It doesn’t make my bum look big?’ She shuffles round as she tries to get the best angle for seeing her reflection in the mirror.
‘Nope,’ I reply. ‘Emma, nothing makes your bum look big! For me, it’s between that dress and th
e red one you tried on a few minutes ago.’
Her face scrunches up and she pulls lots of thinking faces as she appraises herself. ‘I think you’re right. I’ll go and try the red one on again, see which one I like the best. Why don’t you go and find some dresses to try on? There are loads in here that you’d look great in!’
Off she scurries back to the changing room, leaving me in no-man’s land. Being overweight for such a long time means I’ve never really learned how to shop for myself. I’ve always gone for comfort over style and I’ve got no idea what looks good on me or what features to accentuate. I decide to do some aimless wandering round the shop and ask Emma for help when she emerges with her dress of choice. I walk slowly along the racks of beautiful dresses, each divided into colour-coded sections. I go from red to blue to green, feeling different fabrics and textures beneath my fingers. There are a couple of other girls in the shop and they seem to be finding this much easier than I am. They dart round the shop at lightning speed, snatching dresses in different sizes and colours from the racks and scurrying into the changing rooms.
What I’d give to have half that confidence in my own choices.
‘Can I help you?’ I turn to see a perky-looking shop assistant standing next to me. She’s all wide eyes, bright smile and perfect shiny hair, and is impeccably dressed in a style Emma would call preppy chic.
‘Um, yeah, that’d be great. I’m looking for a dress for a high-school reunion and I’m not really sure where to start.’
‘OK, do you have an idea of what style and colour you might like? And what size?’ she asks.
I wince and shake my head. ‘I-I thought maybe a skater dress, but I honestly have no idea. Sorry! I-I know I’m a size fourteen, if that helps.’
The assistant starts rifling through the racks, pulling out a selection of different dresses and hooking them on her arm.
‘Skater dress is a really good choice because you’ve got a curvier figure,’ she says, handing me her choices. ‘They highlight your waist and top line but draw attention away from your stomach and thighs. Why don’t you go and try these on? Give me a shout if you need me.’