The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club

by Alison Sherlock

  Well, that was that. Out with the old and in with the new. A new beginning. A new you! Violet gave a snort of derision at herself and the sorry mess she had got herself into.

  She tried to distract herself with the television but by this time, her favourite soap had been and gone and she was left channel-hopping to find something else to watch. She quickly skipped past the cooking channels and landed on some lifestyle programme. A woman, skinny and botoxed, was talking about the merits of a decent manicure.

  Violet glanced at her fingernails. They weren’t in bad condition but in the frenzy of food clearing she had torn one of them. She opened up the sideboard where she knew there was an emery board lurking and stared.

  It was one of Sebastian’s Easter presents that she had forgotten about. A big, beautiful box of luxury chocolates. She picked up the box. This wasn’t mass-produced rubbish. This was expensive chocolate. This was … oh, what the hell!

  She ripped off the cellophane and tore the box open, inhaling the heady scent of cocoa. But then she stopped. And slowly stood up, still clutching the box. She took it into the kitchen and placed it in the sink. She drew out a bottle of bleach and squeezed it all over the chocolates. Every last, glorious one.

  She stuffed the gooey mess into a carrier bag and placed it outside with the rest of the rubbish. Violet felt a little shaky as she sat back down but quickly recovered. She was OK. She would survive.

  Violet’s week crept by. The hunger pangs weren’t too bad, she realised. Certainly not as bad as when she tried to survive on just cereal bars and shakes. Her stomach was beginning to realise that it could survive on 1,500 calories a day and so, in turn, was the rest of Violet.

  She could do this, she told herself. She would do this. She had to do this.

  On Sunday, Violet found Sebastian staring in the open fridge.

  ‘We’re getting a bit low for food, aren’t we?’

  Violet wanted to tell him about her food clearout but he had been quite scathing about the New You! class.

  ‘Well, the aerobics sounds quite good,’ he had conceded, as he thumbed through Dr Ramsbottom’s leaflet. ‘But the rest of it sounds like a load of twaddle.’

  Not feeling brave enough to let on, Violet had let the subject slide. He hadn’t asked her how much she weighed and there was no way she was going to tell him. As far as Sebastian was concerned, she was still out on a Tuesday night at the New You! class. He didn’t know that everyone would be coming back to the house afterwards for a post-Trudie discussion.

  ‘Well, seeing as there’s nothing to eat, I’m going to order an Indian.’

  Violet opened her mouth but in the end said nothing. It was her fault that there was nothing for Sebastian to eat in the fridge.

  She ordered tikka masala for herself but managed to avoid eating too much of the gloriously creamy and fantastic sauce.

  ‘Have an onion bhaji,’ said Sebastian, wafting the packet in front of her nose.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I’m full, thanks.’

  He frowned. ‘You can’t be.’

  ‘But I am.’

  ‘Go on. Have a bhaji.’

  Violet shook her head.

  ‘You know you want to.’

  Finally she took the damn thing just to get it out of her face. But when Sebastian left the room to go to the bathroom, she crept into the kitchen and put the bhaji in the bin. She didn’t know what his problem was but she wasn’t going to ruin her diet.

  She was in control, she realised. And she liked it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  TRUDIE WAS LATE. The god of traffic lights had not smiled down on her that evening. She hated being late almost as much as she hated ugly people, cellulite and women who wore pink slogan T-shirts calling themselves angels when they were three stone overweight.

  She shoved the door open and strode into the hall but there was no one there. Idiots, she thought. Why would I expect this class to be keen and get here on time?

  She opened up her large bag to bring out her folder of notes. On the top was the letter. The severe reprimand from head office. What a joke. As soon as Trudie made enough money she was going to dump New You! down the toilet where it belonged. She’d had enough of chubby tubbies and their problems. They made her feel ill with their wobbling chins and pitiful excuses.

  It was all so unnecessary. Didn’t they have any restraint? Any resolve? Her mind briefly flitted towards Trevor, her husband. What had he been thinking? It was only a cricket match, for God’s sake. He didn’t need to drink beer whilst watching it.

  ‘But it’s a one day international,’ he had whined.

  ‘So?’ Trudie had replied, pouring the beer down the sink. ‘It’s Monday. You know we don’t drink alcohol during the week.’

  How else did he expect to maintain his trim figure? Lord knows, she had already had to ban butter, cheese, chocolate, crisps and cooking oil from the house.

  Even more worrying was the fact that Trevor had tried to initiate sex later on in bed.

  ‘It’s still only Monday,’ Trudie had told him, before turning her back on him. Had he completely forgotten the rule about no sex during the working week? She couldn’t have less than eight hours’ sleep a night.

  She put the scales down on the floor and stood, waiting. Wondering if any of them would bother to turn up.

  The door opened and in came the bride-to-be.

  ‘Good evening,’ called Trudie.

  She hated having to make the effort to be nice but head office had threatened her with the sack if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She was only being honest with them the previous week. Didn’t they deserve that?

  ‘Hello,’ murmured Violet, heading towards the safety of the chairs.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you again,’ Trudie carried on.

  Violet sat down, waiting for the others to join her.

  ‘How are the wedding plans going?’ called Trudie across the empty space.

  Violet shuffled in her seat. ‘Fine, thank you.’

  ‘Good, good. Weddings are lovely, aren’t they? So romantic.’

  Violet looked down at her feet.

  You should be embarrassed, thought Trudie. How romantic is yours going to be if you can’t even squeeze through the church door?

  The main door was pushed open once more to reveal the mother-and-daughter act.

  ‘Good evening,’ Trudie said to them, the grin still in place.

  Maggie tried to return her smile and failed. ‘Good evening.’

  Lucy glared at Trudie and followed her mother to the chairs.

  Was it they who had stitched her up and whined to head office? They would pay. They would all pay once they started the aerobics session. She had planned a particularly brutal one. Hopefully she might kill a few of them off and then she could close the class altogether.

  The main door opened again.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Trudie, smiling at the mouthy one.

  Kathy gave a snort of laughter. ‘Whatever, love.’

  Trudie tried not to scowl at her back.

  Then the fat boy Edward appeared, grunted his greeting at her and that was it. They were all there.

  Trudie took a deep breath and went to stand in front of them. They were all muttering under their breath, probably about how much they had eaten in the past week. She cleared her throat to get their attention.

  ‘Well, good evening once more,’ she said with a fixed grin.

  When no one answered, she felt her smile faltering.

  ‘I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for my outburst last week. I’ve been on antibiotics for a chest infection and I’m afraid I reacted quite badly to them. Side effects, the doctor told me. As you know I’m normally one hundred per cent professional so I promise you it won’t happen again.’

  Only because jobs were scarce on the ground right now. It was a pain that Trevor didn’t get the pay rise she had been banking on. He would have to try harder as well. Now she was stuck with these loser
s for the rest of the year.

  But in the meantime, she had to keep them sweet.

  ‘So, now that we’re all friends again, who would like to be first to be weighed this week?’

  Dead silence until Kathy said, ‘What the hell,’ and followed Trudie over to the scales.

  She kicked off her shoes and stepped up. ‘Better find out how much weight I’ve put on.’

  There was a short silence as everyone watched her face drop.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve put two pounds on,’ said Trudie in a pitying tone of voice.

  ‘No worries,’ said Kathy before scuttling away.

  Didn’t she care? And didn’t she need a licence to be that fat in public?

  Next up was the menopausal mother.

  At least she hadn’t put any weight on. But she hadn’t lost any either.

  Maggie gave her a smile that was full of fear.

  But Trudie fixed on a rictus grin. ‘Not to worry. Next week will be better, I’m sure.’

  About as sure as I am that you’re stuffing your face in front of This Morning each and every day.

  The daughter had also put on two pounds.

  Lucy scowled at her but Trudie let it wash over her. Teenagers were always a pain. In fact, all children were. There was no way Trudie was ever having children. Think of the damage it would do to her body.

  The fat man strode up, looking a little smug. Perhaps it was he who shopped her to head office.

  ‘I take it you won’t be talking to us in a rude way ever again,’ said Edward before he stepped up on the scales. ‘Otherwise you’ll see a side of me that you won’t like.’

  What was he going to do? Drop his trousers for her?

  But Trudie was the one looking smug when Edward’s weight registered that he had put on another pound.

  Only the bride to be left. Violet came over, not making any eye contact.

  Trudie wasn’t bothered. She would be past caring, if she had ever cared in the first place.

  The great heifer stepped up on the scales. Then she took a deep breath and looked up.

  Trudie gave her a pitying smile and glanced at the scales.

  That can’t be right, she thought.

  She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but could you step off the scales and then back on? They seem to be malfunctioning.’

  Violet did as she was told and then waited once more.

  But the scales registered the same weight.

  Trudie looked up at her in genuine amazement. ‘You’ve lost five pounds!’ she said, aware that her tone was high and screechy.

  Violet gave a start and took a quick look at the screen. It was true. She was now 14 stone 9 lbs.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said.

  Nor do I, thought Trudie.

  Violet went back to the chairs in a daze whilst everyone congratulated her.

  Well, don’t let it go to your head, thought Trudie. Your body’s still such a disaster that the UN have set up a helpline.

  Besides, the wretched woman would probably put it all back on within a week.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE WHOLE GROUP was nearly at bursting point as they staggered through Violet’s front door after the class had finished.

  Violet closed the front door behind her, trying to make sense of it all. She had lost five pounds. How? Well, she knew how. But that much? So soon? She couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Well done!’ said Maggie, sinking on to the sofa and still trying to catch her breath from the ruthless aerobics session.

  Trudie had been severe in her punishment and they were all trying to calm their hammering pulses.

  ‘How did you do it?’ asked Kathy, her face bright red.

  Violet was still in a daze and stared around at everyone as she sank on to the sofa.

  ‘But I had an Indian takeaway,’ she stammered.

  ‘Every night?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘That’s the diet for me,’ said Edward with a grin.

  Violet shook her head. ‘It was only on Sunday.’

  ‘So what did you eat the rest of the week?’

  ‘Yeah, spill the beans,’ said Kathy. ‘Five pounds off! That’s bloody amazing!’

  They were all looking at Violet with eager anticipation.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I just counted calories. It wasn’t very exciting but at least I wasn’t starving hungry.’

  ‘Did you have carbs?’ asked Kathy.

  Violet nodded. ‘I had pasta one night. Oh and a shepherd’s pie on another night.’

  ‘That’s what I should have done,’ said Kathy, rolling her eyes. ‘Instead of trying to cope with yet another faddy bloody diet.’

  ‘Just think what we could have lost if we’d done the same thing,’ said Maggie, looking at Lucy.

  ‘Except we did that stupid juice diet,’ said Lucy with a grunt.

  ‘It was a complete nightmare,’ said Maggie.

  ‘In what way?’ asked Kathy.

  ‘We worked out that the reason everyone loses weight so quickly is because the juices are so disgusting that you don’t want to drink them. So we went back to eating all the bad stuff again.’

  ‘And I had a McDonald’s yesterday,’ said Lucy, also looking glum.

  Kathy sighed. ‘I failed too. Carb-free, my arse. I can’t do without bread or potatoes. It’s just not physically possible.’

  She looked at Edward who gave a large sigh.

  ‘I had eight pints on Saturday night,’ he told them. ‘And then a chip kebab. Maybe two.’ He then looked at Violet. ‘You did really well.’

  Violet was a little uncomfortable at all the praise being heaped upon her. It wasn’t as if she had found the secret to the universe.

  ‘I’m going to be so good this week,’ said Kathy. ‘No cheating.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Lucy. ‘But there’s always something naughty to eat at home. I’ve got no willpower.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ asked Maggie.

  Violet realised that Maggie was talking to her, asking her for advice.

  ‘Well, I cleared out my cupboards,’ she told them, somewhat embarrassed. ‘I thought it would be easier if there wasn’t any rubbish in the house for me to eat.’

  ‘Right!’ said Kathy. ‘That’s what I’m doing too.’

  ‘What else did you do?’ said Maggie, leaning forward and eager to learn.

  ‘Well,’ said Violet, clearing her voice and growing pink. ‘I tried to stick to fifteen hundred calories each day.’

  ‘What did you eat?’ asked Kathy.

  ‘Fruit or cereal for breakfast and a readymade sandwich under three hundred calories for lunch.’

  ‘What about for dinner?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Only ready meals. You know, the low-fat ones.’

  ‘Which ones?’

  So they wrote down the meals she had eaten.

  ‘They’re not very exciting,’ Violet told them.

  ‘Who cares?’ said Kathy. ‘I’m desperate.’

  ‘So just fifteen hundred calories,’ said Lucy.

  Violet nodded. ‘It is actually quite a lot of food if you’re not eating rubbish.’ She glanced at Edward. ‘I read that men are allowed two thousand calories, especially if they’re active.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s what I’ll aim for then.’

  ‘How much do you think we’ll lose?’ said Maggie, who now had a gleam in her eye.

  Violet bit her lip. This wasn’t really her area of expertise. But she managed to recall a few things from her search through the internet and magazines.

  ‘There’s no quick fix,’ she told them. ‘I think we’ll all have an initial big loss if we stick to fifteen hundred calories but then it goes down to a loss of one or two pounds a week. We’ve got to be patient.’

  ‘But I want to be thin!’ whined Lucy. ‘Now!’

  ‘If you lose two pounds a week, it will only take two months to lose a stone,’ Violet found herself saying, before wondering where all this was coming from.


  ‘That’s all right,’ said Maggie, nodding her head.

  ‘I’ve been this fat for so long,’ said Kathy. ‘I can wait a bit longer to be thin.’

  ‘Those crash diets are rubbish,’ said Maggie. ‘I always put on far more weight than I started with.’

  As everyone nodded in agreement, Violet realised that perhaps she hadn’t been alone in her healthy-eating troubles.

  ‘Anything else?’ said Kathy.

  Violet hesitated before speaking. ‘I also read that we should take our measurements. Now, at the beginning. Chest, hips and waist. Not here!’ she said quickly, as the women in particular looked horrified. ‘But it should give you a boost to see the tape measure go down as well as the scales.’

  Everyone nodded. And Violet felt a little proud of herself that she had managed to give them some advice.

  ‘What about alcohol?’ asked Edward, but inside he knew what the advice would be.

  Violet shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess it still counts as calories. Everything does. All food and drink has some kind of calorie.’

  And so they went away, planning to copy her meals for the following week to see how they all got on.

  She still couldn’t quite believe it. She, Violet Saunders, giving advice on healthy eating and living. She nearly snorted at the irony.

  Chapter Twenty

  KATHY HAD BEEN really determined that this would be the start of a healthy regime. Violet had lost five pounds. She must be able to do the same thing, surely? Wednesday was a blank canvas just waiting to lead her into a new and exciting life.

  Unfortunately, fate threw a spanner in the works. Kathy had been left alone in the shop for the past week while Mavis was off with a flu bug. She was now better but Kathy woke up on Wednesday morning feeling rough. She was running a temperature and coughing like a smoker on eighty a day.

  Kathy felt dreadful, with barely any energy to drag herself into the kitchen. What if she really deteriorated and nobody knew that she was lying on the floor with a high fever, unable to move?

  She called in sick as she could barely stand up, let alone be on her feet all day in the shop. Then she fell back on to the sofa and growled at daytime TV.