I spotted Alex before he reached my desk, and used those few milliseconds to remember I hadn’t plucked the chin hair I noticed in the mirror that morning.
‘Hiya!’ he said, oblivious to my chin. ‘Want to try that new Japanese place for lunch?’
‘That depends. Are you buying?’
‘I’ll spring for the green tea if you’ll consult on the sushi. I never know what to get besides California rolls.’
‘Well, I do know my way around a bento box.’ What was I saying? There’s no sushi in a bento box.
‘One o’clock?’
‘Make it twelve-thirty.’
That still gave me enough time to nip to Boots for tweezers.
It wasn’t unusual to go to lunch with Alex, which meant I’d had ample opportunity over the past month to feel awkward about the Christmas Kiss. He never let on that he remembered, but he could be cagey like that and I was constantly alert for clues. If we were proper friends I’d have just asked him, but as things stood I didn’t want to spook him. It had taken me six years to get to the friendly acquaintanceship stage with him. Given enough time and luck, we might just become something more exciting one day. I lived in hope.
The restaurant was packed. We wedged onto a cramped table in one corner. The large plate-glass window at the front ran with condensation and the menus were already spotted with soy sauce. The prices were good and if the food was even mediocre, it was the kind of place that’d do a brisk lunchtime trade amidst the sea of sandwich shops in the area.
Alex closed his menu. ‘I won’t pretend to know what I’m looking at,’ he said with a grin that loosened my insides.
‘You just asked me here to order for you.’
‘I did warn you. And I’m paying you handsomely in tea, don’t forget.’
I sighed dramatically. ‘I’m not just brains you know. I’m also a pretty face.’
‘Of that,’ he said, raising his tiny tea cup, ‘there’s no doubt. Now order quick, I’m starving.’
There seemed to be just one waitress in the restaurant, a gangly young woman with long blonde hair tied haphazardly into a loose bun so that tendrils escaped to frame her pretty face. When I tried to do that I looked like I’d been in bed with ’flu for three days. Finally she approached our table.
‘Are you ready to order?’ she asked, looking at Alex, who nodded to me.
‘Yes, please may we have two orders of spicy tuna roll, one California roll …’ I stopped talking when I noticed she wasn’t looking at me. ‘One soft-shell crab roll and one salmon nigiri … did you get all that?’
She nodded, finally looking my way before heading for the kitchen.
‘Thanks for ordering,’ Alex said, oblivious to the waitress’s rudeness. ‘Everything sounds great.’
‘Now you know what to order for next time.’
‘Nah, I won’t remember,’ he said.
‘Will I have to come with you every time you want sushi? That might be awkward on a date.’ Even as I joked my heart skidded at the thought of Alex on a date. Steady on, girl, I told myself. You’d think I’d be able to look at the man without wanting to lunge over the table. Not even Rory had this much hold over me. And that was at least based on a solid friendship.
I glared at the waitress for the rest of the meal but she remained unaware of my loathing, not even once glancing in my direction. She was all smiles for Alex though. She must have thought he was paying. Or else she had a crush on him. Or … as I suspected, I was Invisible Katie.
The worst part about being a fat woman isn’t that people look at you with judgement in their eyes. It’s that most don’t look at you at all. You cease to be a person for whom they need to account. They look over your shoulder, or at the ground in front of you, or they glaze their eyes and look directly through you. It’s like being a ghost, but with none of the fun of haunting. That waitress wasn’t ignoring me. I was simply inconsequential.
Alex and I went back to the office and straight into our meeting together, as if lunch hadn’t just happened.
I made it sound nonchalant, didn’t I? Our meeting together. Like I had them all the time and hadn’t taken nearly an hour to dress this morning.
Our company was always on the lookout for ways to get more work out of us without breaking EU employment law. So instead of just asking, they liked to make it look like overworking was our idea. We’d had personality tests that told us it was okay to be a workaholic. We’d been given motivational tee shirts and posters. There was a weekly prize for Awesomeness. We were on a slippery slope, one group hug away from going on retreats together to chant affirmations and weave everlasting friendship lanyards.
When Alex asked for a volunteer last month to help implement their latest improvement (vision boards stuck with aspirational magazine images to help us reach our goals), I had to fight the urge to shout Pick me, Pick me with my hand in the air.
Of course it was a stupid idea. But it was our boss Clive’s stupid idea, so everyone had to show willing, at least to his face. My face didn’t garner the same respect. I was now known as Karma Katie around the office.
In the conference room, I tried to shake off that henchman feeling as I double-checked my notes. Yes, Herr Commandant, everything was carried out as you instructed.
Alex pointed to his steaming cup. ‘No coffee for you?’ The very idea baffled him.
It smelled delicious. ‘I’d love to but I’m off coffee at the moment. My heart’s been doing something funny lately.’ As I hadn’t dropped dead from it I wasn’t overly worried about a heart attack. It was more of an unusual rhythm – da-da-da-da-da-da-kerthunk! Sometimes it made me out of breath.
‘It’s not dangerous, is it? You should get it checked.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there’s nothing really wrong.’ I tried not to get carried away with fantasies of him kneeling at my bedside, holding my hand to declare his love.
He nodded, unaware of the role he was playing in my imagination. ‘Let’s try to make this quick. I’ve got another meeting at two.’ He rolled his eyes.
This was his way of letting me know that he might be on the board, but he wasn’t one of The Establishment. He was far too cool for that. He windsurfed, for goodness sake. Just imagine him emerging from the sea, streaming with water, sun glistening …
The vision popped as he opened his notebook to get down to work.
‘Yep, agreed,’ I said. ‘Let’s make it a quickie. I mean … well, I didn’t mean that.’ Well done, Katie. Cool as usual. I pushed a thick lock of hair out of my face, accidently sticking myself in the eye as I did so. ‘Ouch.’
‘Are you all right?’ he asked. I waved away his concern, squinting attractively. ‘So, tell me then. Have you made your vision board? Are all your darkest desires pasted on cardboard for the universe to fulfil? It only accepts paper requests you know.’
‘Every single one is documented for the Fates to act on,’ I said. ‘I even stuck the Philips Pharmacy logo on there. If I could find a photo of Jenny, I’d add it. Maybe with a lock of hair and a voodoo doll.’ Jenny’s latest objection was that we tested the products on animals. We didn’t, but once she was on a roll it was hard stopping her. ‘And I used staples on the really important ones … calorie-free cupcakes and world domination.’
‘Lofty goals. I’m glad you didn’t waste time on trivial things like cancer cures or filthy riches.’
‘Without calorie-free cupcakes, what’s the point of the rest of it?’
His throaty laugh gave me bedroom visions. ‘You always brighten my day, Katie Winterbottom. ’
That’s me, the day-brightener. If I’d had a quid for every time I’d heard that from someone I fancied, the calorie-free cupcake research fund would be nearly full. I suppose being appreciated for my conversations was all right, if he wasn’t going to love me for my body.
‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to make our last meeting,’ he said. ‘A good mate got us last-minute tickets to the rugby. Promise not to breathe a word of it
to the higher-ups. They think my mother needed a ride to her chiropractor.’
I held up my hand in oath.
‘Your email was very thorough though. I didn’t expect graphics.’
I knew I’d gone overboard when I found myself in the office after eight p.m. trying to animate tiny pencils to march across the presentation.
‘You must let me take you out for a drink,’ he continued. ‘You’ve saved my arse once again. And I suppose you’ll have to save it today too. We need something to show the board. We can’t really monitor progress, can we? I mean without violating HR policy. The damn things are probably supposed to be confidential.’
‘I suppose I could ask everyone if they’ve done it. That’d give you something to report back on. Maybe a few people would be willing to show theirs to the board.’
‘Would you be willing to show me yours?’ he asked.
I’d show him mine right there on the conference table. ‘I, erm.’
‘That sounded rude, didn’t it?’ He smiled, not making any effort to correct it. Did he mean what he’d said?
Then he laughed a deep, rich chuckle that made my reproductive system wobble with glee.
‘Don’t you need to get to your next meeting?’
He ran his hand through his gorgeous hair, blowing out his cheeks. ‘In my next life please remind me to study architecture or film-making, not finance. Honestly, Katie, I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve this.’
‘You must have been very naughty,’ I said before I could stop myself. Oh. My. God. I sounded like a MILF from some nineties porn movie. ‘Karma, I mean. Bad karma transformed into a career in finance. You should watch yourself or you’ll come back as something even worse next time. Maybe an ambulance-chasing solicitor. Har har.’
‘My parents are both solicitors,’ he said. ‘Personal injury.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean it! I’m sure they’re very nice people and they probably didn’t do anything horrible in a previous life to deserve to be solicitors. I mean, it was just—’
‘Katie, relax, I was only joking. My parents are doctors. Shall we get on with this?’
I left the meeting in a muddle. He didn’t mention anything about the Christmas party. Still no hints that he might remember more than he was letting on. No lovely innuendos. I’d carried a torch for this man for six years, which hadn’t dimmed one iota. I must have used extra-long life batteries. It couldn’t go on like this.
CHAPTER FIVE
Our overdrafts wouldn’t survive sixty-quid theatre tickets for very long, so our girls’ nights were interspersed with thriftier options.
‘I’ve never seen so many skinny jeans in one place,’ Jane said, shifting in her chair to tuck her legs further beneath the table in the cinema’s foyer. ‘Have we walked into a Topshop advert?’
‘They’re hipsters,’ Ellie whispered, as if observing them on safari. Maybe she was afraid they’d stampede if spooked. ‘They all dress like this in the East End. It looks good on teenagers but I could never wear jeans like that.’
‘Oh, but Ellie,’ Jane said, ‘of course you can, you’re only twenty-five! I’m the one who’s probably too old to be trendy.’
‘You make yourself sound like a granny, Jane,’ I said. ‘You’re only thirty-five. And a young-looking thirty-five at that.’
‘She’s right,’ Pixie said, smoothing her hands over her thighs. ‘I’m thirty-five and I’m wearing them. I am! You don’t have to be a size zero you know. Skinny just means they fit your body … whatever body you’ve got. I can’t stand those baggy ones they always stock in big sizes. They make me look like a postie. My calves aren’t too bad. I may as well show them off.’
She did have pretty calves, and slender ankles. She often said her parents had some spinning top mixed in with their Yorkshire heritage. I loved that she could see the good in herself, even when sometimes others didn’t.
‘I don’t know how you do it, Pixie,’ Jane said. ‘I admire you so much. I can’t even let Andy see my wobbly bits, let alone the wider world. I make him turn all the lights out when we’re in bed.’
How I wished some of Pixie’s confidence would rub off on Jane. ‘Doesn’t he get cross about that?’
She smiled. ‘If he does, he doesn’t let on. He’s too good a husband.’
Ellie was keen to find our seats, even though we’d already reserved them. I hadn’t seen her so excited since the Selfridges shoe sale last year. But then it wasn’t every day that her favourite film director offered to do a talk after his film.
There was a collective intake of breath when we saw the huge cushy green velvet armchairs. Pixie made a face. ‘They’re not big enough …’
‘Very funny,’ I said. It was nap-worthy seating. ‘This could be the perfect cinema experience, thank you, Hackney Picturehouse!’ I imagined all the cold, rainy weekend afternoons we could spend lounging in cinematic splendour. In seats like that I’d even watch Vin Diesel without too much of a grump.
Within minutes of the opening credits though, I was yearning for Vin. Instead we sat through two hours of bleak inner angst. As if I needed any more of that, after the day I’d had. My mind replayed the afternoon’s meeting while the actors wept on-screen. Stupid arthouse film.
Every month the entire Nutritious sales team met in the big conference room to divvy up new client prospects and report on progress with existing clients. Everybody lied, of course (occupational hazard), but it was important to go through the motions to give our bosses the illusion of control.
As usual, Clive (he of the vision boards) chaired the meeting and, as usual, we played Buzzword Bingo. Trading the cards around each month made sure that everyone got an equal chance over time.
Nobody could sling vacuous office speak like Clive, and he never disappointed. Ellie jumped when he said ‘Let’s focus on the bottom line, team’ and I knew she had my card from last month. Focus and bottom line in one go. Well played, Ellie.
‘All right, last order of business,’ he said as I ticked off one of my boxes. Just touch base and game plan left to win. ‘New account visits. We’ve got sixteen this month. Who can take Camelot in Northampton?’
I raised my hand with lots of others.
‘Steve, thanks. Cohens in Leeds?’
Again my hand went up. ‘Susan, great. Faith Fitness, also in Leeds? Susan, do you want to take that too? Thanks. Havens Chemist? Matt.’
Each time my hand went up. Each time Clive chose a colleague to take the meeting. By the end of the list, my arm was tired. So was I.
‘Right,’ said Clive. ‘Thank you, ladies and gents. Same time next month. Any questions, just touch base with me.’
‘Erm, Clive? Isn’t there a client I could take?’ I asked, subtly ticking off my touch base box.
He smiled his grandfatherly smile. ‘I’m sorry, Katie, that’s the end of the list. Next time you should volunteer earlier.’ Ellie grimaced her support as she took the minutes. She was lucky. As the company secretary and all-round indispensable person, she didn’t have to fight for client meetings with the rest of us.
I didn’t bother pointing out that my hand was in the air the whole time. I could have danced on the desk and he’d have passed me over. It was a long-standing fact. I was one of their top salespeople on the phone. I never got client meetings.
Once Ellie’s moany film ended we had to stay for another twenty minutes while sycophantic fans stroked the director’s ego. Even she looked ready for a drink by the time we finally made for the pub down the road.
‘You know what I really want?’ Ellie asked as we carried our wine to an empty table. ‘Cake. I could murder a slice of gooey chocolate gateau.’ She licked her lips thinking about it.
‘I could eat two slices,’ I said. Lately my appetite had been colossal. ‘With ice cream.’
‘God, don’t!’ moaned Jane. ‘I haven’t had anything sweet all week.’
‘You’re not still on your stinking wee cereal diet?’ Pixie said. ‘Love, give
it up. There’s no reason to put yourself through something that clearly doesn’t work.’ When Ellie protested this rather blunt statement, she said, ‘What? Jane has said as much. It’s been over a month and she hasn’t lost any weight.’
‘I gained a pound,’ Jane confirmed. ‘But I’m going to try something new. Katie, you might know about this too, from work. It’s called Alli. Have you heard of it?’
‘We don’t sell any diet aids.’ I made a mental note to ask the science types around at the office about it anyway.
‘You take it with meals,’ she explained. ‘And it keeps your body from absorbing fat. The best part is you can eat whatever you like!’
‘It sounds too good to be true,’ Ellie said. ‘Is it safe?’
‘I bought it at Boots, so it must be,’ she said. ‘This could be the miracle I’ve been looking for.’
I hated seeing Jane get so excited about the latest fad only to be disappointed.
‘Are you finished?’ Pixie glared at us. ‘Jesus, will you listen to yourselves? We may as well just go to Slimming Zone. It’d be cheaper and we can have the exact same monotonous conversations. Aren’t you tired of always thinking about what you ate yesterday, what you can eat today? It’s exhausting. I quit Slimming Zone to get away from all that and you’re bringing it with you on our nights out.’ Her look softened. ‘Ladies. We are more than the sum total of our BMIs. Honestly, I’m sick to death of it all. Aren’t you?’
Actually I was. And Pixie was right. We had better things to talk about than our waistlines. ‘Well, I thought that film was a load of old donkey’s bollocks.’
‘How can you say that?’ Ellie asked. ‘It was beautiful.’
‘It was boring.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Pixie said. ‘Donkey’s bollocks aren’t boring.’
‘Not all films move along at the pace of Love, Actually.’
Ellie knew I judged all cinema against the Richard Curtis classics.
I shrugged. ‘That storyline was Jurassic. Glaciers move faster.’
The Curvy Girls Club Page 3