Maggie bit her lip. ‘What do I do about it?’
‘You should lose weight and exercise more. But in the meantime, I’m going to start you off on some medication.’
Maggie had driven to the chemist in shock and was still clutching her paper bag full of pills.
It was the worst possible scenario. She had turned into her mother. Not the pettiness or guilt-inducing, woe-is-me act. No, Maggie had taken on the physical attributes of her mother, who had lost sight in her right eye in her early sixties due to her diabetes. Maggie’s mother was also on a daily injection of insulin.
Maggie shuddered. She hated needles and injections. Luckily she was on the pill form of medication.
She rang Gordon while she waited for her prescription. But he was busy with a client. She assured his secretary that she was only calling about that night’s dinner. It sounded stupid but she so rarely rang her husband during the day that she didn’t want Gordon to panic.
In fact, she’d decided not to tell him at all. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t want him to think any less of her. To think that she was menopausal and now so dangerously overweight that she had to be medicated.
Tears rolled down Maggie’s cheeks. She felt as if her life was over when it was only halfway through. The front door burst open and Maggie quickly stuffed the pill packet into her handbag. Brushing away the tears, she tried to fix on a smile.
‘You all right, love?’ she asked as Lucy came into the lounge.
Then she realised Lucy also had tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said, taking her daughter in her arms.
‘I tore my skirt,’ sobbed Lucy.
Maggie looked down and saw the skirt was split nearly up to Lucy’s waist.
‘It’s only a skirt,’ she said to her daughter.
‘It’s not the skirt, it’s me!’ cried Lucy. ‘I’m too fat. Nothing fits. I’m disgusting. I hate myself. I don’t want to be this fat any more.’
Maggie held her daughter for a long time until she finally began to calm down.
‘You’re not disgusting,’ Maggie said. ‘And nor am I. We just let things get out of hand, didn’t we?’
Lucy nodded as Maggie held her close.
‘How about we go back to that diet club tomorrow night?’ said Maggie.
‘Yes,’ said Lucy, the tears still rolling down her cheeks. ‘I can’t go on like this.’
‘Me neither,’ said Maggie, letting herself join in the tears. ‘So let’s start afresh, eh?’
Lucy nodded.
And the mother and daughter pact was made.
Chapter Fifteen
ON THE SUNDAY morning, Violet had woken up with piggy eyes and a stomach ache from all the stress of the previous evening at the wedding.
Sebastian was struggling with a horrendous hangover and was still snoring in bed. Violet wanted some fresh air so left him to it. For once, she had no appetite. After the previous night, she wasn’t sure it was ever coming back. The women’s bitchy comments still lay heavily on her.
She even walked rather than get in the car. It was only a short walk to a nearby Sunday market in the town car park. The warm morning air felt quite refreshing. Once arrived, she headed to the fresh fruit and vegetable stalls. She hardly ever touched fruit, always going instead for the quick and more tasty option of chocolate. Violet counted the pineapple on her Hawaiian pizza as one of her five a day. But that morning, she treated herself to a banana and began to munch on it while she wandered around in the early summer sunshine.
Violet found herself reluctant, for once, to scurry back to Sebastian. He hadn’t said anything about her disappearing for hours on end to the ladies’ toilet. And when she had finally joined him back at the party, he was too busy with his friends to notice how upset she was.
Sebastian was so drunk that she practically had to carry him up the stairs to bed. He then made half-hearted attempts to make love but thankfully passed out before things got too far.
He’d been too out of it to recognise her misery. So Violet lay awake for most of the night, fighting the demons inside. She was determined to take control of her eating for ever. She just didn’t know how.
She passed a secondhand book stall, casually picking up a horror novel before putting it back down again. That wouldn’t help her think more positively.
Then a pink book caught her eye: Isabella’s Guide For the Elegant Bride. She picked it up and stared at the cover. It wasn’t particularly well thumbed, almost new in fact.
‘I bought that by mistake,’ someone suddenly said.
Violet looked up to see the stallholder, nodding at the book in her hand.
‘I wanted to know about table pieces for my wedding but it wasn’t much help.’
But Violet couldn’t stop thinking about being an elegant bride. How wonderful it would be if she were suddenly stylish. And thin, obviously.
At least it would pass the time whilst Sebastian recovered from his hangover. So she handed over a two-pound coin and slowly made her way home. Sebastian was still groaning from the bed upstairs so she left him to it and curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and the book.
The author was Isabella Marigiano. In her photo, she was blond and beautiful, like a young Grace Kelly. The book turned out to be over twenty years old but Violet was still intrigued. She knew nothing about being elegant.
‘There is nothing more elegant than a simple Italian wedding,’ read the first line.
Oh God. Violet checked the front cover. She’d picked up a book for Italian brides.
‘There are six rules to achieve eternal elegance,’ she read on. ‘Both at your wedding and throughout your life. Learn them, live them and you will have style forever at your hands.’
Violet glanced at the first rule. It was about food. She was just about to read on but Sebastian staggered downstairs demanding attention and carbohydrates so Isabella would have to wait. But Violet was intrigued. Perhaps she would get time to read a little more during the week.
She looked at Sebastian, slumped on the sofa, clutching his forehead.
‘I feel awful,’ he whined, running a hand through his blond hair.
‘Poor you,’ said Violet but not really meaning it.
‘Get me a bacon buttie, would you?’
Violet waited a minute for an apology, before realising he wasn’t going to say sorry for completely ignoring her the previous evening. He had never apologised for his moods or anything he had done throughout their time together. Apart from sleeping with another woman, she remembered. Then he had said sorry. In Sebastian’s eyes, he was always in the right. Or so he thought. Violet went along with it because it was easier than having another row. Anything for a quiet life.
She stared at him. Was he ugly, as those girls had said? She couldn’t see it. Of course, he wasn’t looking his best that morning. But he was her man. He was everything.
She sighed and went into the kitchen. Violet piled a plate high with bacon butties but only helped herself to one round. Something had clicked inside her. She didn’t know what and didn’t know how. But this time, she was determined that the diet would work.
This time she was actually looking forward to Tuesday. Despite minimal weight loss so far, she was willing to learn. Finally, she wanted to learn the secret of being thin.
And Violet knew just the woman to help her.
But Trudie was very out of sorts that Tuesday evening. She had barely said two words to anybody. Before the weigh-in began, she spoke to them all.
‘I’m so glad you could all be bothered to turn up this week.’ Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘I don’t know why you made the effort.’
She paused for effect.
‘Especially as not a single one of you turned up last time.’
Violet blushed, even though she realised that no one else had gone to the weigh-in last week either. But she wasn’t to be deterred. Feeling brave for the first time in her life, Violet slowly walked up to b
e first for the weigh-in.
‘Blimey,’ Kathy called out after her. ‘You’re a bit keen, aren’t you?’
Violet attempted a smile at Trudie but she scowled back. Perhaps it was her time of the month. They both looked down at the weight the scales were showing.
Trudie gave a massive sigh.
‘I know,’ Violet told her, holding up her hand. ‘But I really want to do this now.’
She even sounded as if she meant it this time.
‘Really?’ Trudie replied, her voice laced with scorn. ‘You really, really want to lose weight now, do you? Even when you haven’t bothered to do anything about it during the last month?’
Violet felt embarrassed but knew she deserved the ticking off.
‘Well, no,’ she mumbled. ‘But I’m getting married and I want to look good on my wedding day.’
‘Not much chance of that,’ Trudie muttered. ‘Unless you’re going for the World’s Fattest Bride record.’
Tears of shock stung Violet’s eyes. She couldn’t believe Trudie was being so cruel.
‘Now wait a minute,’ said Edward, coming to stand next to them. ‘I don’t think there’s any call for you to be mean like that.’
‘Shut up, lard arse,’ snapped Trudie. ‘What are you going to do? Smother me with your moobs?’
Violet glanced at Edward who was looking equally stunned.
‘Some girl in the office caught your eye, has she?’ carried on Trudie, still scowling at Edward. ‘Still, if she gives you the cold shoulder, you can always go drown yourself in more beer.’
Edward paled as her words struck a nerve. Eventually, he managed to bluster, ‘I really think you ought to apologise to Violet and myself.’
Everyone was glancing at each other, wondering where all this was coming from.
Trudie held up her hand. ‘Listen up, fatties. I’ve had enough. I have up to thirty people sometimes at my other classes. It’s not worth my time or the petrol to come here and see you lot. You’ll never achieve any kind of weight loss and that’ll make me look bad.’
‘Well, that would be a real shame, wouldn’t it?’ said Maggie, who had noticed Violet’s eyes filling with tears and had come over to give the girl a bit of support.
‘Wake up and smell your menopause,’ Trudie snarled at her. ‘You’re overweight. Deal with it.’
‘Don’t you speak to my mum like that,’ said Lucy, standing next to her mother.
Trudie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Don’t suppose you’re getting any boy action with an arse that large. The boys would rather use their hormones on some size-eight slag from the council estate.’
Lucy took a deep breath in horror before bursting into tears.
‘Now listen,’ barked Kathy, coming to stand in front of them. ‘You can’t talk to us like that.’
‘Nobody’s listening to you,’ snapped Trudie. ‘Nobody laughs at your jokes, thinks you’re funny or gives a damn about you. You’ll probably die alone, surrounded by empty cake boxes.’
Kathy gasped and bit her lip.
‘You’re horrible,’ sobbed Lucy.
‘Newsflash! I don’t care,’ shouted Trudie. ‘None of you is worth my time and effort. I’ve got other classes where people are serious about losing weight.’
‘And where you can earn a lot of money off them,’ said Edward, scowling at her.
‘Of course!’ cried Trudie. ‘What do I care about your obesity levels? You lot will never achieve anything.’
With that, Trudie swanned out.
‘Ding dong, the witch is dead,’ said Kathy, putting an arm around Violet, who was still upset.
‘What a bitch!’ said Maggie, trying to mop up Lucy’s tears.
The reign of terror was over. But it also meant they were now on their own. Not knowing what else to do, Kathy suggested they went to the pub on the corner. Nobody was really in the mood to socialise but they all went with her anyway.
Once the drinks were ordered, they found a table and sat down.
Violet was still feeling incredibly wounded by Trudie’s words. All her new-found optimism had disappeared. She glanced up briefly to find Maggie smiling at her.
‘Congratulations on getting engaged,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ Violet replied, feeling perfectly miserable.
Everyone else looked up from their drinks.
‘When’s the big day?’ asked Kathy.
‘New Year’s Eve.’ Violet allowed herself a pity sigh, remembering what Trudie had said about her being the world’s fattest bride.
‘That Trudie was a bunny boiler,’ snapped Edward, who had been quiet until then. ‘Forget about her.’
But even Violet could see Trudie’s words had wounded him.
‘Exactly,’ said Kathy, putting her glass down with a clatter. ‘All in all, it was a perfect class tonight.’
‘But we’ll never see Trudie again,’ stammered Lucy.
Kathy nodded. ‘Like I said, a perfect class! She was a complete witch and not the least bit helpful. Christ, I could write her sum knowledge of diets on a Galaxy bar wrapper.’
‘Have you seen they’re doing Galaxy counters now?’ said Maggie, her eyes lighting up. ‘Little circles of chocolate. Yum!’
‘The day they brought back Wispa bars was the happiest day of my life,’ said Kathy. She took a sigh. ‘That’s sad, isn’t it? My happiest days shouldn’t revolve around food.’
They all nodded in agreement.
‘Bloody sod’s law that I had finally decided to do something about my weight, to be serious about it, I mean,’ said Kathy. ‘And what happens? The witch leaves us in the lurch! Now what am I supposed to do?’
‘Exactly,’ said Maggie.
‘Maybe we don’t need her,’ said Edward.
‘I tell you something,’ said Kathy. ‘I’m not wasting any more money on tasteless crap like those bars and shakes.’
Everyone was nodding in agreement.
‘I need normal food,’ said Maggie.
‘Couldn’t we help each other?’ said Lucy, looking a little shy at her suggestion. ‘Seeing as we’re all in the same boat.’
‘The same overloaded fat boat that’s sinking, you mean,’ said Kathy, grinning.
Lucy gave her a small smile in return. She found Kathy really funny.
‘It can’t do any harm,’ said Maggie.
‘Why don’t we meet up Thursday night?’ said Edward. ‘Strike whilst the iron’s hot and all that.’
‘And maybe get some ideas in the meantime?’ said Kathy.
Edward nodded. ‘Something like that.’
Kathy nodded. ‘OK with me. But not here. I can’t talk about weight loss in a pub that’s going to tempt me with Baileys and a large packet of pork scratchings.’
‘I’m afraid I only live in a tiny flat,’ said Edward. ‘No room to get everybody inside.’
‘Me too,’ said Kathy.
They both looked at Maggie but she was shaking her head.
‘My husband’s not very supportive about diets,’ she told them. ‘I don’t think it will be possible.’
‘So where shall we meet?’ asked Lucy.
Everyone slowly turned to face Violet, who hadn’t spoken for a while.
‘I’ve only got a small house,’ she said.
‘A house? That will do fine,’ said Maggie.
‘Great,’ said Kathy. ‘What’s the address?’
Violet felt she had no choice. Everyone agreed to meet at her home in forty-eight hours’ time. Violet knew that Sebastian was out at some work do on Thursday evening so the place would be free. But she felt uncomfortable about everyone being inside her house.
‘So we’ll all have a think about the best way to get this weight off, shall we?’ said Maggie.
Everyone nodded, each promising to do some research on healthy-eating plans.
Violet sighed. This obviously wasn’t going to work. What could five fatties achieve on their own?
Chapter Sixteen
AFTER WHAT A
PPEARED to be the end of the weight-loss club, Violet spent the next morning googling every kind of diet known to man. Work was pretty slow that day so she had loads of time in between calls to waste.
She had typed the word diet into Google and got a massive 129,000,000 results. Her jaw dropped at the mind-boggling range of eating plans in front of her.
There were women advocating eating only baby food. Or juices. Or soups. Or a combination of eggs and grapefruit. Or just breakfast cereals. Or drinking maple syrup and peppered water all day, every day and nothing else.
Some recommended low GI. But what was the difference between GI and GL? Instead of dieting, why not detox? Or body cleanse, whatever that meant? There were metabolic diets, Nordic diets and Frenchwomen diets.
Violet could discover her blood type and eat according to that. She could eat only protein or become a vegan. She could drink special tea to cleanse her colon. Or green tea. Or no tea and coffee at all because they were bad.
Vegetables and fruit were best. Then there was a different website saying that vegetables and fruit were terrible for the diet. Brown rice was great. Or brown rice was the devil. It was all so confusing.
But as Violet delved deeper, she found that perhaps she didn’t have to diet at all. There were pills to pop to make you thinner. She could get hypnotised into getting thin. Or have acupuncture. Or have major surgery or gastric bands inserted into her stomach.
She took a long, deep breath. Definitely no surgery. She hated her body but there was no way she was going under the knife.
She sighed and wondered whether it was worth all the effort to look up any kind of healthy-eating plan. Nobody would turn up tomorrow night and that would be the end of it.
Except the doorbell rang at 8 p.m. on Thursday night and there was Kathy, clutching what appeared to be an envelope.
‘Did you get one?’
Violet nodded. The letter had arrived in the post that morning.
‘“New You! would like to apologise for the conduct of their personal consultant, Ms T. Recks,”’ mimicked Kathy with a hoot of laughter. ‘Who do you think blabbed?’
The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club Page 10