The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (5 page)

‘You’ve all got your
welcome packs, in which you should find your diet booklet, a tape measure and a motivational DVD from Dr Ramsbottom, the founder of New You! Inside your diet booklet you’ll find a chart where you can discover your personal daily calorie allowance. This calorie allowance will help you achieve a healthy weight loss without going hungry. And I know what a struggle that can be!’

Trudie gave them
her false, tinkly laugh, but everyone was still dumbstruck. Perhaps they knew that she’d never been overweight in her life. The
thought
of being the same size as some of these people made her feel ill.

‘And then, at your weekly class, you’ll get weighed and we’ll check on your progress. Best of all, you’ll get a half-hour aerobics class with me each week to kick-start your weight loss!’

Trudie,
still wearing her wide grin, stared at everyone and they stared right back.

‘Normally I would now give you a small talk about tips for the week and how to keep on track but we seem to be running a bit behind, unfortunately. Not to worry, that just leaves more for next week!’

She felt her shoulders sag and briefly dropped her grin.

‘Let’s just get on with the workout, shall we?’

Just think
of the money, Trudie told herself. No job satisfaction to be had here.

These people weren’t going to achieve anything.

OH MY GOD
, thought Kathy. I’m going to die.

Her pulse couldn’t possibly maintain this high rate. Her lungs were going to explode. And she must have strained every muscle in her body. This was it. Kathy Baker RIP.

She was attempting to jog on the spot but the hall was going blotchy in front of her eyes. Just work to your own pace, that Trudie woman had said. What pace? Kathy’s body
hadn’t seen this kind of movement since PE at school.

She wasn’t normal, that Trudie. That manic smile of hers. And as for that body? No one was that trim and perfect in real life. Perhaps she’d been nipped and tucked. Anyway, she was the devil. And nobody over the age of twelve should wear a pink tracksuit.

Not that Kathy was particularly proud of her own workout outfit. It was a man’s T-shirt
and baggy tracksuit bottoms She wasn’t sure when she’d started preferring men’s clothes to her own. But what did she expect at seventeen stone?

Seventeen stone! Hell’s bleeding bells! She was enormous. No wonder she couldn’t jump around. There were probably seismic shakes going off all over town as she attempted to leap up and down. She must have been fooling herself all this time. At 5 feet
7 inches, perhaps she had thought she could carry a bit of extra weight. But this wasn’t just a bit extra. This was a whole six stone of flab.

What the hell was she doing here? Kathy tried to copy Trudie’s complicated routine. She was on the stage at the front of the hall. They could all see her clearly enough but everyone kept crashing into each other. Perhaps it was all the sweat obscuring
their view. Kathy felt she was dripping buckets. It didn’t help that she had no coordination either.

Finally the agony stopped and Trudie told everyone to lie on the ground to do some stretches. Kathy wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to get up again. Maybe they would bring in one of the cranes that littered the town centre to hoist her up and out of the roof before gently depositing her
back home. Or into the nearby cemetery.

As instructed, Kathy took a deep breath in and out and attempted to stretch her leg out at a 90-degree angle. Her heart was still pounding. Her head was thumping. And she wasn’t sure if she had just dislocated her hip joint.

They all struggled to stand up before Trudie finally released them from the jaws of hell.

‘Well, that was great! Really well done,
everyone. Give yourselves a round of applause!’

A few looks were exchanged amongst the victims before a few half-hearted claps could be heard.

‘That’s the spirit!’ continued Trudie.

You had to admire her, thought Kathy. Perhaps the world was a happier place when you could slip into Lycra leggings and not look like a large sack of potatoes.

On the way out, everyone was given three carrier bags
full to capacity with cereal bars and milkshakes.

‘Have a good week, everyone!’ said Trudie. ‘You’ve taken your first step to a New You!’

Kathy left as quickly as her aching body would allow. She savoured the sweet, fresh night air for a moment before realising someone was standing next to her.

‘God, that was grim,’ said Kathy, giving the other woman a grin. They were both around the same age.
‘Hi, I’m Kathy.’

‘I’m Violet,’ muttered the dark-haired woman, going bright pink. She was very pretty, thought Kathy.

‘I thought we were gonna have to call for an ambulance when she started doing that jogging on the spot,’ Kathy went on. ‘I swear my heart stopped beating at one stage.’

Violet gave her a small smile but didn’t say anything.

‘You going towards town?’ asked Kathy.

Violet shook
her head. ‘Sorry.’

‘No worries. I’ll see you back here next week, then. If we can put up with the torture again! Good night.’

Kathy gave a hearty laugh but it wasn’t returned. The girl had scurried away.

Probably couldn’t wait to get away. Sometimes Kathy really hated herself. Why couldn’t she just be natural instead of Peter Kay on speed?

Kathy turned and slowly walked home, dreading the
lonesome flat that was waiting for her.

*

Violet headed in the opposite direction to her car, wishing she was naturally chatty like Kathy. Why was everyone else able to be so natural and engage in conversation, when she couldn’t string two words together?

She got inside and dumped the bags on the passenger seat before trying to calm her racing pulse. Fifteen stone! She blew out a long sigh.
She was probably the fattest one there, apart from that one man in the class.

She placed her hands on the steering wheel, noticing how her engagement ring glinted in the light from the streetlamp. It was a nice ring. Not quite the diamond solitaire that she had always dreamed of but an emerald was still a good sign that Sebastian loved her. Even if he didn’t realise that she had never really
liked emeralds.

Fifteen stone! She was going to be the fattest bride the world had ever seen. Deep in misery, Violet drove home, desperate for something to eat to take away the pain and humiliation of the evening.

Home always made her feel better. It was an end-of-terrace Victorian cottage. There were only two bedrooms and the kitchen was tiny but the lounge had been knocked through into the
dining room and it was a lovely, sunny space with patio doors leading on to a small garden.

She had managed to get the deposit with an inheritance from her uncle who had passed away four years previously. It had been her sanctuary from the outside world ever since. There were some lovely authentic features, like the real fireplaces. They were tiny but then it only needed a few logs to keep the
room warm.

She wished Sebastian was waiting for her with a hug but he was working late that evening and would
head
back to his own flat to sleep. So she trudged up the small path to the front door before letting herself in.

‘Hello!’ she called, ever hopeful that Sebastian had changed his mind.

But only darkness and silence greeted her.

Violet dumped the carrier bags full of shakes and cereal
bars on the kitchen counter and felt her stomach rumble loudly. She had gone to the club without having dinner first. And she still weighed fifteen stone.

The first two weeks of the diet sounded horrendous. Two shakes or cereal bars and then a healthy, nutritious dinner. But a quick flick through the diet booklet confirmed her suspicions that the dinner should be made up of lots of vegetables,
fish and brown rice. No cheese, chocolate or anything else that tasted nice.

In despair, Violet threw open the fridge door, grabbed the unhealthiest things she could find and ate them all. Cheese, butter, cream, chocolate and even a frozen cheesecake that hadn’t quite defrosted by the time she got round to devouring it. She ate until she felt sick.

And she cried the whole time she was eating.
She was never going to lose weight, she told herself. She just wasn’t strong enough.

Edward nodded goodbye to the ghastly Trudie before leaving. He had made it. He had got through the aerobic session alive.

The weigh-in didn’t hold any humiliation for him, after being weighed by the doctor a few days previously. He had taken her advice and looked up the class. OK, so it was all a bit girly but
he was prepared to give it a month. He tried not to think about the
doctor’s
words to him the other evening. He was fine. He wasn’t ill, after all. He tried not to remind himself how massive he felt in his tracksuit bottoms and how far his stomach was hanging over the waistband.

Edward was impressed that the class included a workout. He just hadn’t realised quite how unfit he really was. OK,
so fielding the boundary at cricket wasn’t exactly aerobic but he considered himself in a reasonable physical state even if he couldn’t run between the wickets.

But he couldn’t fool himself any longer. Not having seen that psychotic bimbo Trudie bouncing around. She had barely broken out into a sweat while Edward felt as if he was having a mild coronary. He must have lost about half a stone already
in sweat. At least, it felt like it. His T-shirt was clinging to him, dripping wet. He felt revolting.

He strode to his car, his head held high. He was fine. Nothing at all the matter with him. He could cope with this every week. It was only a workout for women, after all.

He only briefly clutched his pounding chest before he let his hand drop. He glanced up and down the road to check nobody
was nearby. And then he threw up.

As Maggie drove home, she tried to lift Lucy’s low spirits.

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ said Maggie, trying to put some life into her voice.

‘It was crap,’ muttered Lucy.

Maggie steered the car around the roundabout. She was nearly seventeen stone. She was enormous. No wonder she felt so unwell most of the time.

‘I thought Trudie was nice,’ she added.

‘I thought
she was a right bitch,’ replied Lucy.

So did I, agreed Maggie. But she didn’t say so.

She was still in shock that Lucy had wanted to go with her. She had tried sneaking out of the house whilst Gordon was in the garden, saying something about a quick trip to an evening sale at Debenhams.

But Lucy had picked up that she was lying and had begun to raise her voice while asking endless questions
about where her mother was going.

‘Keep your voice down,’ Maggie had said, in a low tone. ‘I don’t want your father knowing.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a new diet club,’ said Maggie, trying to ignore Lucy’s groan. ‘I know, I know. Been there, done that. But I need to lose weight. So for God’s sake, don’t tell your dad where I’ve gone.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’ll say it’s a waste of time and money.’

‘Is
it?’

Maggie looked at her daughter. ‘Possibly, but I’m desperate, love.’

Lucy looked at her for a while before saying, ‘OK. I won’t tell Dad – if you let me come with you.’

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Why?’

‘Look at me, Mum. I don’t think Cheryl Cole’s quaking in her shoes, is she?’

‘Cheryl Cole needs a bloody good meal inside her.’

‘Please, Mum. I want to lose weight too.’

Maggie
knew her daughter needed to lose a few pounds. Nothing like her own massive excess, but perhaps it would help. So they went together.

‘You never know,’ said Maggie, turning the car into their road. ‘This might be a whole new beginning for us both.’

Maggie hoped her words were true. But she knew deep down that this new diet club probably wouldn’t make any difference.

When they got home, Gordon
looked up from the sofa with a smile. ‘How was the shopping?’ he asked, keeping one eye on the football match on the television.

As Lucy stomped upstairs, Maggie smiled back at her husband. ‘It wasn’t great,’ she said as she sat down next to him.

‘Have one of these to cheer yourself up,’ said Gordon, handing her the biscuit barrel.

Maggie sighed and helped herself to a chocolate digestive.

Lucy shut her bedroom door and threw herself on the bed.

She had spotted Nicola Bowles and her gang on the drive home and had slumped down in her seat to avoid being seen, though she didn’t know how they could miss her at over twelve stone. No wonder they took the mickey out of her. She was the size of an elephant.

How the hell was she going to lose three stone? She glanced down at her stomach,
straining against the T-shirt and leggings. It would take years to get rid of all the fat she was suffocating under.

Her mum had been surprised that she had wanted to go to the stupid weight-loss class. But Lucy was getting increasingly desperate. She wanted so much to be the lively teenager that she knew was buried deep inside somewhere. She didn’t tell her mum how unhappy she really was. How
one day last summer she had sat down in the bathroom with a packet of
Nurofen
and had stared at the pills, wondering what would happen if she swallowed them all. In the end, she put the packet back in the bathroom cabinet and felt even more miserable. If she didn’t have the strength to attempt suicide, what hope was there for her to lose three stone?

She grabbed her sketchpad and skipped through
all the fashion designs until she found the page she had scribbled on a few days ago.

Lucy had drawn a silhouette of herself as she was at present. And then had drawn her dream silhouette inside it. That was her goal. The dream body shape. The kind of person who could wear skinny jeans and cropped tops. Who could wear any fashion they liked.

But Lucy knew it was just a dream and would never
come true. It was too hard to achieve on her own and there was nobody else to help her.

THE MORNING AFTER
the weigh-in, Violet had a job interview. She had six pieces of toast with butter and marmalade in deference to the horror ahead. The diet would start later. Now she had to worry about what to wear.