Dying to Be Slim

by Abby Beverley

  “Well, if they’ve found a valuable ring, it’ll be on its way to being sold off. These crooks don’t hang around with hot goods for long. The police will have a handle on where to look. I really think we should phone them,” said Alf.

  “I just need… need to get home. I… I don’t know what else to do. I need my family,” cried Starla.

  “Whereabouts do you live, love,” asked Shirley.

  “Other side of the city. Hawpeak.” Starla’s voice was quiet and wobbly, “I… I came on the train.”

  Alf shrugged resignedly.

  “I think we should let her do that, Shirl. She looks smart enough to know her own mind.”

  Shirley sighed.

  “OK, OK, but promise me you will do something about it?” Shirley implored.

  “I will,” vowed Starla. “I promise. Thanks… for the… for the tea. I need to go. I need to get home.”

  “Wait!” Alf cried. He leaned across to his stall and removed a tenner from the cash box that was hidden behind a wooden stand. “Your train fare. You can pay me back when you’re feeling better.”

  “And let us know if you get your priceless ring back,” called Shirley. “We’re here every Wednesday. Bilberrymoor Market. Just ask for Alf or Shirl.”

  25

  Wednesday

  STARLA

  Starla rested her head against the cool window of the train. Behind her, a woman was shrieking into a mobile phone about the trouble she was having selling her house. The passengers on the train collectively hated the woman for ruining their reveries but nothing could drag Starla from hers.

  She recalled the terror of being confronted by the Cobalt Bat Boys and their blood-thirsty dog. She could never remember a time when she’d been so scared. She’d been unable to find the courage to walk back down the alley and through the railway yard but had found her way round on the main road. As soon as she saw the station, she had rushed to the loo thankful that her bladder hadn’t let her down, even with the huge cup of tea she’d consumed.

  They might have killed her! That damned dog could have ripped her into little pieces and nobody would ever have known. Clara would have been forced to just sit asleep in her chair until she starved to death – an ironic end for a woman weighing over a fifth of a tonne.

  Starla forced herself to think positively. She hadn’t been ripped apart – or even maimed. She’d simply had her bag nicked. Granted, she had now lost the means to return to her own body, but that didn’t mean she should just roll over and give up.

  She still loved her family. All four of her grown children were in employment and had the means with which to look after themselves. It wasn’t up to her to judge those means. Neither was it for her to judge Billie’s pregnancy. Billie was, after all, only a year younger than she had been when she’d given birth to Mikey and Marnie.

  Guy, Mikey and Tina could sort out their own flippin’ love triangle; they were all adults for god’s sake! She’d got one of her own to see to.

  And then she’d got a ring to find. Clara’s life depended on it.

  26

  Wednesday

  JAKEY

  When Jakey left Clara in Yasha’s capable hands that morning, he walked down to the Muncaster Hotel feeling angry and guilty in equal measure.

  Mr Unwin had spluttered a smoky morning greeting from his hiding place down the side of the house next door but Jakey had only waved weakly in return, wondering if the Unwins had heard him shouting at his family the night before.

  All of this was his fault… at least in part. If he’d taken more of an interest in what Billie had been up to, where she’d been sleeping and how she was getting on at school, this never would have happened.

  He’d been given all the warning signs. Mrs Whatshername phoning him up on his mobile to tell him that Billie was skiving Fridays; Billie’s regular sleepovers with friends he’d never met; her recent lack of good humour. Jakey had thought he could sort out the truanting issue without bothering Clara. He remembered it well; Clara had been going through quite a rough patch. Her health was deteriorating and he’d been scared he was going to lose her.

  He loved her so much but she was becoming less accessible: physically and mentally. He could have brained her for inviting that sodding reporter into their home. He’d found the whole thing utterly distasteful but Clara had insisted. Was it attention she sought? Attention she wasn’t getting from him?

  She had no idea that he’d seen the article. As soon as Clara had asked him to buy a copy of Femme Fanfare from the newsagent, he’d known. He’d played it down, handing her the magazine with two huge bars of milk chocolate. But he’d bought a second copy which he’d kept in the kitchen and, by now, he’d read the article several times over.

  Kelly had suggested that he was fattening Clara up. What on earth for? It wasn’t like she was some prize farmyard animal that was to be paraded for a rosette at the county show. He fed her because he loved her. If he was perfectly honest with himself then, yes, he preferred her in the early days when the two of them would rush up the stairs to bed because he was on a split shift and both sets of twins were at school. But those days were long gone and, anyway, who didn’t prefer themselves younger and leaner?

  Jakey thought that he would definitely like to look younger. The lines around his eyes hadn’t been there twenty-four – nearly twenty-five – years ago, when he and Clara had first got together. He was in good shape though, the walk up the hill at the end of each shift had seen to that. But the lines told tales of a man who was part carer, part worker, part father. Laughter lines they were not.

  When he reached the hotel, Jakey slipped round the back hallway and hung his jacket up. He wasn’t actually working till later that evening but he’d needed to get out of the house. His guilt was weighing him down at home and he was angry at the man who’d done this to his only child.

  Jakey decided to sit in the bar and work on his recipes. It was the only thing at the present time that brought a sparkle to his eyes. He nodded a greeting to Jeff, the barman, and made himself comfortable in the corner. Stretching across a wide windowsill, he unplugged a lamp and plugged his laptop lead in. Jakey opened the laptop and smiled with satisfaction. He was very pleased with the way it was all turning out. Soon, he would tell Clara, Billie and the rest of the family what he’d been up to.

  Jakey hadn’t meant to write a recipe book. He’d started it as a simple blog. However, the interest in his cakes and pastries had grown beyond measure. Several publishing companies had put pressure on him to turn his recipes into books and he had been more than happy to oblige. The backing of Clinton Montague-Scott had been the icing on his upside-down fondant cake and, through his involvement, Jakey already knew that at least one of his recipes was going to be used in the semi-final of the popular television series, The Great British Baking Challenge.

  Jakey had been very fortunate to enlist the help of a specialist photographer from Leicester called Lola Watson. Mrs Spencer, the receptionist at the doctors’ surgery, had recommended Lola to Jakey while he was waiting for one of Clara’s repeat prescriptions. On the wall beside the reception area were a series of photographs depicting the surgery through different seasons and Jakey had openly admired them. Mrs Spencer was keen to boast that the pictures had been taken by her sister, an ex-model turned photographer, who was looking to break into the field of food photography. Jakey explained that he was blogging and needed some fancy pictures of his cakes and pastries. Mrs Spencer had recommended Lola who was desperate to create a food portfolio, possibly without charge.

  Jakey had contacted Mrs Spencer’s sister immediately. Lola Watson was delighted to be able to assist him, having recently set the back of her house up in readiness for her new venture. As well as a studio, she provided facilities to cook, store and display the subject matter as required. The only downside was trekking off to Leicester every couple of weeks. He decided to go every other Tuesday, since that was the day he got Clara up on his own, enabling the distric
t nurse to drop by in the afternoon instead. Marnie couldn’t always be relied upon to turn up on Tuesday lunchtimes for hair washing duty but when she did, it was an added bonus. Jakey always left food and drink out for Clara regardless and Billie knew to hurry on Tuesdays, her arrival home often overlapping with the nurse’s final obs.

  Jakey’s mother no longer had any concept of time so there was no point in him trying to explain the new fortnightly visits to her. She was now so far gone with dementia, she barely recognised him as her own son. She was obsessed with looking for her husband, Jakey’s father, who had died about twenty years previously and she usually spent most of Jakey’s visiting time searching for him under rugs, settee cushions or her bedclothes. It made Jakey sad and stressed to see her so agitated.

  “Fancy a coffee, Jakey-boy?” asked Jeff from behind the optics, wiping his hands on a bar towel.

  “Yeah, ta mate. That would be great,” replied Jakey.

  Jakey set to work. He had some notes to work from but mostly his recipes were committed to memory. Lola had emailed him the pictures from their final session and he was, as always, totally in awe of the way she made his creations look edible even when being viewed onscreen.

  Lola had made his chocolate truffle tart look tantalisingly edible by suggesting he drizzle white icing in zig-zags across two slices placed opposite each other on an oval plate. Between both slices, she had twisted fresh strawberries spotted with thick chocolate sauce which continued to be dotted across the white plate, ending in a fan at the edge of the tarts. His vanilla shortbread was temptingly displayed in sugar-coated squares cooling on a rack. The bottom right hand square was deliberately broken in half and Lola had managed to capture the steam rising from the centre.

  Just as provocative was the photograph of his blueberry cheesecake. Jakey and Lola had worked hard together to stack the blueberries ‘naturally’ on top of the perfectly cut slice, so that the purple juices dribbled down into tiny pools next to a carefully placed sprig of mint. This was all done upon a mirrored plate which reversed the image, making the slice look twice as tall and twice as delicious.

  Jakey worked until lunchtime when he stopped for half an hour to order ham, eggs and chips from the Muncaster’s lunchtime menu. He was tempted to have a bit of chocolate pistachio torte (his own, of course) but was aware that if he was too laden with food, he’d feel tired, especially when working on the laptop.

  Jakey wondered if he should walk home to see if Clara was alright but he knew that Billie was unlikely to have gone to school under her current circumstances. No, he’d give them a bit of mother-daughter time together and himself a chance to put the finishing touches to his book. He made sure that his phone was switched on in case either of them needed him urgently.

  He bent over the laptop once more and began to type the introduction, which he’d left till last.

  He was just finishing it a couple of hours later when he was aware of something blocking the light from the hotel’s double doors.

  “Jakey Jackson.” A deep voice rumbled. “Long time, no see!”

  Jakey looked up at a tall, broad figure wearing faded jeans and a rugby shirt. The piercing blue eyes were unmistakable: Skye’s eyes.

  “Vic Smedley!”

  “Surprised to see your old mate then, Jakey?”

  “Hell… yeah!” Jakey’s astonishment showed.

  “Thought I’d drop in for a pint. See if any of me old mates were still in town,” he said surveying the hotel’s interior with a sweeping glance. “Nowt’s changed much, that I can see.”

  “What the hell are you doing back here, Vic?”

  “Like I said, thought I’d drop in for a pint. Fancy joining me?” Vic flicked his eyes over to the bar in invitation.

  Jakey pressed ‘save’ and stood up. He gathered his belongings together while Vic was being served.

  “Stick that in the back room will you, mate?” Jakey asked Jeff, laying his laptop case flat on the bar while Jeff poured Vic a pint.

  A few moments later, Jeff took the laptop, stored it and returned to pour a second pint for Jakey.

  “So, I take it you know then?” Jakey asked Vic, who was slurping the head off his pint.

  “Yeah, I know. You shacked up with me ex-missus. That I did hear. Me sister, Ellen, still lives round back of Jubilee Arms. She tells me a bit here and there. She don’t seem to know nowt these days though. Too busy playing online bingo. Stupid cow – hardly ever goes out.”

  “Same thing with Clara,” sighed Jakey.

  “Online bingo?”

  “Telly.” Jakey stated. “She just stays in and watches the box.”

  “Bit harsh on them kids growing up then?”

  “Nah,” said Jakey in Clara’s defence, wishing he’d not mentioned it. “She weren’t like it when the kids were small. They’re all long since gone; moved on. Now it’s just me and her… and…”

  Jakey paused.

  “And…?” asked Vic, his curiosity aroused.

  “And Billie – our daughter. She’s fifteen.”

  “Nice one.” Vic nodded his approval. “Bet she’s a stunner like her mam was.”

  “She’s beautiful,” smiled Jakey. “As is Marnie and her own little girl.”

  “Ahh Marnie… yeah. She got herself knocked up then, did she?”

  Jakey shook his head.

  “All above board mate. She’s married.” Jakey wondered why he was justifying Marnie’s life choices to this man who had never involved himself in the lives of any of the Waterfall twins – his own children for pity’s sake!

  Vic took a long slug of beer and burped.

  “So I’m a grandad, eh?” he stuck his neck forward proudly and pulled on the collar of his rugby shirt.

  Jakey felt angry.

  “I think you’ll find that I’m her grandad,” he said sharply, barely managing to hide his disdain. “I’ve been there for the kids, for Clara, and for my granddaughter.”

  Vic laughed.

  “Calm down, mate!”

  Jakey glared into his pint, thinking he’d fight to the death if that’s what it took to be Skye’s grandad.

  Vic finished his pint and indicated to Jeff that he’d have another.

  “I’m only back for me old lady’s funeral. She croaked last week. Funeral’s four o’clock Friday down the crem. I can’t believe the old bird made it past eighty with all that bloody gin sloshing around inside her.”

  “Aren’t you hoping to see any of your kids then?”

  “Nah. Two of them I never met. I know they’re identical lads but I can’t remember their names. Me mam and sister did tell me more than once but if you don’t meet folk, you don’t tend to recall their names.”

  Jakey was at a loss to understand how a father could refer to his sons as ‘folk’ and forget their names.

  “The other pair, Marnie and Mikey,” Vic continued, “well… it’s been a long time… too bloody long. As you say… they’ve moved on. Besides, I’ve been wed twice since I saw you last, and both of them bitches couldn’t seem to understand the meaning of no kids. Both got knocked up twice and one of them had bloody twins and all. I’m cursed, I am!”

  “So, you’ve got nine kids?”

  “Yeah… but only thems I know about mate!” laughed Vic. “I’m still wed to the second missus but I live with her sister now. I’ve told her NO bloody kids or I’m off!”

  Jakey began to relax. Vic didn’t appear to be a threat to his family after all. It sounded as though he’d got enough on elsewhere to keep him busy.

  “So, when you say you live with her sister…?”

  Vic tapped the side of his nose.

  “Let’s just say,” he couldn’t resist bragging, “me sister-in-law’s a younger, better-looking version of the missus and there ain’t no kids mithering me for cash nor nicking me fags.”

  Jakey smiled. Vic had always considered himself to be ‘a catch’ but Jakey knew, from Clara, that fertility didn’t go hand in hand with passion or pleasu
re where her ex was concerned.

  “So… Clara?” Vic eventually asked.

  “Yeah, she’s good,” lied Jakey. “Still as gorgeous. Just not so keen on getting out and about.”

  “Shame,” shrugged Vic. “Might’ve been nice to see her. Me mam thought the world of them babies. Broke Mam’s heart when she stopped taking them round, it did.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure she had her reasons though,” said Jakey, knowing full well that Hilda and Ellen (Vic’s mother and sister) had blamed Clara for Vic’s disappearance. Jakey also knew that they had made life quite difficult for her in several different ways, and that she had stopped visiting because of the stress they put her under.

  “So, what else you been up to Vic? We heard you did a stretch. Is that right?”

  “Yeah, I got busted for ABH and criminal damage. I ’spect you know it were me who burnt down the Youth Club? I came back to visit me mam an’ sister one time an’ they told me you’d moved in with Clara. I were that brassed off, thinking about me kids calling you ‘Dad’, I went back to the club where I met her and torched it. One thing I did learn in Fire Service were how to get a building to burn good and proper.”

  “Bloody hell Vic! Is that what they locked you up for? Torching that old shed?”

  “Nah, got away with that one! That were well over twenty years ago now.”

  Vic put his head on one side and gave Jakey a shifty stare.

  “You’re not gonna squeal on us, are you mate?”

  “No point,” said Jakey, taking a swig of his beer. “And they never called me ‘Dad’. I’ve always been Jakey to all of them. I’m right proud to be ‘Grandad’ though, as you can tell.”

  “I can tell,” laughed Vic.

  “Mikey’s wife is expecting in September so we’ll have another grand-kiddie soon.”

  Jakey kept quiet about Billie. He didn’t feel ready to accept her condition himself, let alone mention it to someone he’d not seen in nearly thirty years.