I Will Marry George Clooney (By Christmas)

by Tracy Bloom

  Horrified, Michelle marked a generous minus three on her sheet.

  ‘I often thought you should combine the two,’ Gina burbled on. ‘A fat virgins’ weight loss/dating club. I even thought of a name. Lose the Flab for a Shag.’

  ‘Awesome,’ said Michelle absent-mindedly.

  ‘Oh come on, ’Chelle,’ said Gina, nudging her hard with her shoulder. ‘What’s up with you? You’d normally find that hilarious. Did you hear me? Lose the Flab for a

  Shag. It’s genius.’

  ‘Sorry, Gina.’ Michelle gave a big sigh.

  ‘Hey, come on. I know that face. I normally only see it when your favourite has been kicked off Strictly. What’s upsetting you?’

  ‘Honestly, Gina, nothing. I’m fine.’

  ‘Well, maybe this will cheer you up,’ said Gina. ‘I’ve been talking to Cousin Jack again.’ ‘Oh, great,’ breathed Michelle.

  ‘No, listen. He’s only come up trumps again. Apparently he works with someone who lives next door to someone, whose son works for a film production company in London.’

  ‘So, his colleague’s neighbour’s son?’

  ‘If you say so,’ replied Gina. ‘Anyway, he managed to get this guy’s email address.’

  ‘How did he do that?’

  ‘You know what he’s like. He’s very direct. He probably just went round, knocked on the door and threatened arson if they didn’t hand it over. Anyway, he emails this guy and it turns out he’s just a runner or something. Which apparently means you run around getting everyone tea.’

  ‘So bit of a dead end, then?’

  ‘Well, no, actually. Turns out his girlfriend works for a film publicity company and so she could be useful, couldn’t she?’

  Michelle thought for a moment.

  ‘She’ll know people,’ she agreed.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Gina.

  ‘She’ll know people who might know George,’ said Michelle.

  ‘Exactly,’ Gina repeated.

  ‘So Cousin Jack is now working on getting in touch with his colleague’s neighbour’s son’s girlfriend?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Michelle, feeling a little calmer. Maybe something might be going to plan in her life.

  ‘Right, so are you going to tell me why you look like the world’s ending now?’ Gina pressed.

  Michelle felt her shoulders sag again instantly.

  ‘Come on,’ said Gina. ‘Something’s up.’

  Michelle knew Gina well enough to realise that she had to throw her some kind of bone or else she would never let it lie.

  ‘Do you remember Rob, Jane’s boyfriend when she died?’

  ‘Oh yes. A really nice guy.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ shrugged Michelle. ‘Well, he’s back. From America. Just got divorced.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Gina. ‘That guy has no luck with women, does he?’

  ‘Guess not.’

  ‘So why is this a problem?’

  Michelle hesitated.

  ‘Well, it just drags up bad memories, doesn’t it? Brings it all back again.’

  ‘I know,’ said Gina, gently laying her hand on Michelle’s arm. ‘I know it’s a long time ago but there are always going to be things that will remind you of Jane. But that’s a good thing, surely?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Michelle. ‘You’re right. But . . . well . . . it’s just bad timing, that’s all.’

  ‘He was bound to come back and visit at some point,’ said Gina.

  ‘I know. I should have thought of that.’ Michelle realised that she’d ignored the fact that he might reemerge at any time, which had left her totally unprepared as to what to do if he did. Now she was lying awake every night, churning over the fact that perhaps she had no choice but to reveal the identity of Josie’s father. That it was the right thing to do. It was a dilemma she’d managed to ignore whilst Rob was out of sight, but she couldn’t any longer. Every time she thought through the process of telling not only Rob and Josie but also her parents, she felt sick at the prospect of their reactions, and terrified that she could end up losing them all.

  Gina put an arm around her, causing a tear to escape down her cheek.

  ‘He probably won’t hang around for long,’ said Gina. ‘There’s no reason for him to stay here, really, is there?’

  Only a daughter, thought Michelle. An absolutely enormous reason. She wondered if the first step was to tell Gina. She felt guilty that she’d never had the guts to tell her in the past, but she was so determined at the beginning not to tell anyone that by the time she thought she was able to take her into her confidence, it felt too late. The world had moved on and everyone had accepted that Michelle neither wanted Josie’s father to be part of her life nor wished to share with anyone who he actually was.

  She could let it out now. Right here. Confess all. It was fitting, somehow, given the confessional nature of the slimmers who were baring all on the scales. She was also at the point where she thought she might explode if she didn’t unburden herself to someone. She turned to face Gina’s sympathetic gaze and prepared herself to say out loud the words she’d vowed never to say.

  ‘Bums on seats, ladies and gentlemen, bums on seats,’ Lizzy cut in. ‘We have a lot to get through today and we have a very special guest here to talk to us at the end about her charity work. Stand up, Michelle. Give us all a wave.’

  Michelle stared at the beaming Lizzy then glanced back at a proud-looking Gina, who nudged her to stand up and acknowledge the applause that now filled the room. She thought she might throw up. What was she doing here? How had she put herself in this position of doing something that scared her witless? She stood up and waved meekly before sitting down with a thud.

  ‘Right then,’ whispered Gina in her ear. ‘Let’s see who’s nailed this Slimmers Bingo, then, shall we?’

  Michelle barely listened to the comings and goings of the meeting. She was vaguely aware of Gina nudging her every time someone’s weight loss or gain was announced so they could check who had guessed right. The whole thing was very confusing, however, since everyone clapped and cheered whatever the result, pounds on or pounds off.

  ‘Three-pound gain! Three pounds!’ Gina exclaimed in response to a middle-aged, massively overweight gentleman. ‘Pathetic.’

  ‘So, John, would you like to share with the group how you think your week went,’ said Lizzy, head cocked at the appropriately sympathetic angle.

  ‘It’s my wife’s fault,’ he mumbled. ‘She was away for the week visiting her sister. She left me food to heat up in the freezer.’

  ‘That was good of her,’ beamed Lizzy.

  ‘Dozy cow didn’t tell me how to use the microwave,’ John continued. ‘I’ve had a curry every night.’

  The entire room sucked in its breath at the mention of takeaway food.

  ‘Okay, John,’ said Lizzy, still grinning away. ‘Let’s throw it out to the rest of the group, shall we? What could John have done to make a healthier choice?’

  ‘Which curry house do you use?’ Gina shouted.

  ‘The Shangri-La,’ John replied. ‘Bloody lovely.’

  ‘Now there’s your mistake, you see,’ Gina told him. ‘I can lose half a pound in an instant from the after-effects of a dodgy curry. Just like that.’ She snapped her fingers for emphasis. ‘You are paying way too much for your curry. Downgrade to somewhere like Bombay Nights. A bit of the substandard rubbish they serve in there will do your digestive system the world of good.’

  ‘Gina,’ said Lizzy, her massive smile slipping. ‘As interesting a way of losing weight as that is, I don’t think it is one that Slimmers United can endorse. Now, can anyone else offer John some help?’

  ‘She knows I’m right,’ Gina muttered. ‘Maybe I should be a Slimmers United rep. Wonder how much they get paid?’

  ‘Mushy pea curry,’ came a voice from the front row.

  ‘Brilliant!’ cried Lizzy. Megawatt smile back in full glow.

  ‘Honestly, John,
even you can manage this. It’s so easy and it tastes delicious. Tell John what’s in it, Sharon.’

  ‘It takes, like, five minutes to cook, seriously. So you fry off some mushrooms and onion and you just add a tin of mushy peas.’

  ‘Yuck,’ said Gina, thrusting two fingers down her throat.

  ‘. . . then a tin of chopped tomatoes . . .’

  ‘Yuck . . . yuck,’ continued Gina.

  ‘ . . . then a tin of baked beans . . .’

  ‘Now I am seriously going to throw up,’ said Gina, taking her fingers out of her mouth.

  ‘. . . then add chilli powder and curry powder to taste. Dead simple and it tastes awesome.’

  ‘How can something that mixes tinned tomatoes with mushy peas ever taste awesome?’ Gina enquired.

  ‘I’ve cooked that loads,’ piped up someone to the left of Michelle. ‘We have it every week.’

  ‘I cook up a batch at the beginning of the week and eat it every night,’ grinned the spotty male virgin.

  ‘That just killed all of his chances of a shag,’ muttered Gina.

  ‘Mushy pea curry is on page eight of the Slimmers United Cookbook,’ announced Lizzy, ‘available from me at the end of the meeting for the bargain price of £4.99. Now we’ve got through everyone, so it’s time to announce the slimmer of the week. So let’s give Sue a massive round of applause for her phenomenal loss of five pounds this week.’

  Sue almost spat out the potato salad she was tucking into as all eyes turned to congratulate her.

  ‘Five pounds! Are you serious?’ exclaimed Gina. ‘No wonder she’s stuffing her face. She’s starved herself all week. You can always tell the ones who’ve taken it too far. Out comes the Tupperware as soon as they’ve come off those scales. Bet that’s not low fat mayo on that salad either. They might as well draw a kebab van up outside for her, I tell you.’

  ‘Now, next week, people, we shall be discussing the elephant in the room that is fast approaching,’ said Lizzy. ‘Can anyone guess what that is?’

  ‘John,’ Gina muttered under her breath.

  ‘It is, of course, that fatal time of year that is otherwise known as . . . Christmas!’ said Lizzy. ‘Now I know it’s still a few weeks away, but I always find the more advance planning you do the less likely you are to let Christmas bingeing destroy you. We’ve all done it, haven’t we?’

  Low level nodding and muttering filled the room.

  ‘So next week I’ll be showing you how to make a fatfree and sugar-free Christmas cake.’

  ‘With the added bonus that it’s taste-free too,’ Gina whispered into Michelle’s ear.

  ‘Now, last but certainly not least, let’s give a big, Slimmers United hand for Michelle, who has come to talk to us about her charity and a very exciting opportunity for us.’

  Michelle’s stomach lurched. She’d not quite recovered from the mention of mushy peas and canned tomatoes in the same recipe and now the moment she had been dreading had arrived. She forced herself to stand up and walk to the front of the room, clenching and unclenching her hands in a bid to control her nerves. She muttered George Clooney to herself over and over again as she stepped forward and turned to face her audience, who were eager to escape and devour some of the chocolate they had waiting for them in deep pockets or car glove compartments, safe in the knowledge they had a whole week to repent their sins.

  Her opening words were low and stuttering, aimed mainly at the floor. She looked up to see Gina waving her hands to indicate she should speak up. She cleared her throat and grabbed one of the boards she had stayed up making past midnight to show images of what the Not On Our Watch project was all about. The words started to flow as she described their work, doing her best to be snappy and punchy, but she could already tell she was losing her audience as they struggled to relate to what she was telling them and why it was important enough to keep them away from their essential post weigh-in snack.

  Using another painstakingly assembled board, she moved on to describe how they could help raise money for this important cause. She described the event and how the factory were providing free chicken, but already a low murmuring of unrelated chatter had begun. She could feel the familiar red rash that always appeared when she was experiencing extreme discomfort starting to emerge from her chest, up her neck and onto her face. This was desperate. She was failing miserably. All she had left was her ace card, which seemed to have worked with the other groups that had been canvassed previously.

  ‘We are also extremely grateful to our other sponsor, Clayton’s Brewery, who have agreed to provide free beer from their brewery for all contestants who will be cooking food on the night.’

  The room fell silent as all the slimmers looked furtively at each other and then glanced at Lizzy wistfully, hoping for some kind of confirmation that given this was for charity, gorging themselves on free beer would be acceptable and in fact fully endorsed by Slimmers United.

  Michelle stood awkwardly wishing the ground would swallow her up as the silence continued. The rugby club players had cheered and done a victory lap around the pitch, such was their excitement over free alcohol, whilst the WI had cross-examined Daz on the types of beer that might be available and had been very specific about what should be brought to satisfy the ladies. In desperation, Michelle looked pleadingly at Lizzy, hoping there was something she could do to rescue her.

  ‘Let’s throw it out to the group, then, shall we?’ beamed Lizzy. ‘Come on, guys, this is a great way to spread the word about Slimmers United and raise money for this very worthy cause. Every week you tell me some startling creative stories about recipes you have created that are healthy and delicious. So come on. Hit me with it. Who has a great recipe for chicken?’

  The room fell silent again. Feet shuffled awkwardly.

  ‘Drumsticks,’ came a murmur from the back.

  ‘Good start,’ bounced Lizzy. ‘Drumsticks without the skin are an option. Anyone else? Come on, don’t be shy. We’re looking for a healthy chicken recipe we can all get involved in that would delight the taste buds of anyone.’

  Michelle had never prayed harder for chicken inspiration.

  The girl with the lumpy leggings in the front row raised her hand.

  ‘Yes, Lucy,’ urged Michelle.

  ‘Sometimes . . .’ Lucy hesitated. ‘Sometimes I put chicken in my mushy pea curry.’

  ‘Aw, that’s brilliant,’ said the fat virgin vigorously, as Lucy smiled back shyly.

  ‘Mushy pea chicken curry,’ said Lizzy. ‘Brilliant, Lucy. We’ll do mushy pea chicken curry, Michelle, how about that?’

  ‘Sounds . . . amazing,’ replied Michelle, feeling her stomach churn at the thought. ‘Can’t wait to try it.’

  ‘Fabulous!’ Lizzy began clapping. ‘Just fabulous. We’ll bring some Slimmers United recipe books with us so that everyone who tries it can go home and make it too. I’d better be sure to bring some membership packs,’ she added. ‘When people discover they can eat food like that and lose weight, then I’m sure we’ll have lots of people interested in joining us.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Michelle nodded.

  ‘Let’s have a massive round of applause for Michelle, shall we, everyone? What a truly inspirational person she is,’ gushed Lizzy. ‘I am always in total awe of anyone who selflessly throws themselves at raising money for charity, and we at Slimmers United are very proud to be associated.’

  Michelle nodded and smiled then collapsed in a spare chair on the front row.

  ‘Now, if you need anything from us in the meantime, Michelle, be sure to let us know. I’ll send you our corporate logo to be included on all your promotional material and a link to our brand guidelines on our website. All items must be approved by head office, of course, but I’m sure that you’re well aware of that, aren’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Michelle nodded, in a daze. She wouldn’t know a brand guideline if it smacked her in the face.

  ‘Oh, I’ve just had a brilliant idea,’ announced Lizzy. ‘We coul
d offer a free membership as a raffle prize, how about that?’

  ‘That would be great.’ Michelle swallowed, thinking they’d better sort a raffle out then.

  ‘You were brilliant,’ Gina told Michelle half an hour later, after everyone had left and Lizzy had at last finished talking Michelle through the corporate mission and statement for Slimmers United.

  ‘I was rubbish,’ Michelle declared. ‘Thank goodness for Lizzy.’

  ‘Well, she is very persuasive,’ said Gina.

  ‘She certainly is,’ Michelle agreed. ‘She just signed me up for a six-week membership.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ cried Gina. ‘You could do with it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ muttered Michelle. ‘I really needed to hear that.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘She blackmailed me, actually. Said she’d only give me a raffle prize if I joined up. She’s pretty hardcore.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Gina. ‘She’s not really. She just doesn’t mind asking, that’s all. A bit like me.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I was thinking about that,’ said Michelle. ‘How do you fancy setting up the raffle?’

  ‘How do I do that?’ asked Gina.

  ‘Well, you could start by asking companies in the area to donate prizes. I wonder if Dominic in Sales at the factory might help as well. Maybe some of his customers might give us something?’

  Gina considered the request.

  ‘So I just ring lots of people up and ask for free stuff?’

  ‘Yep, that’s about it.’

  ‘I can do that. Leave it with me. Sounds like top fun.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘Thanks, Gina,’ said Michelle. ‘I really appreciate your help, you know.’

  ‘Look, Michelle, are you okay?’ Gina gently reached out to take her hand. ‘Something’s up. I can tell with you. You’ve got that post-Jane-dying, I’m-not-really-onthis-planet look that I’ve not seen in a while.’

  Michelle looked away. The moment had passed. She couldn’t face bringing up the subject of Rob again. She looked back at Gina.