Sweet Temptation (6 page)

I sneaked a look at my fellow FatBusters. There were about twenty-five of us, I reckoned: a handful of teenagers with scraped-back ponytails and puffy faces, about five pensioners with matronly bosoms and polyester dresses, two middle-aged blokes, and the rest were women ranged between twenty and fifty. Size-wise, I seemed to be about mid-list, from what I could tell. There were a few seriously overweight people whose bodies spilled over the edges of their chairs, and at the other end of the scale, a couple of younger women who were just a little bit plump around the middle.

My phone trilled and I almost jumped out of my seat. Caller display: Mum. Huh. I sent it to voicemail and switched off. She could grovel into my message-box; I wasn’t interested in hearing more apologies. I stuffed the phone into the depths of my handbag, scowling at it.

I was just trying to pluck up the courage to speak to the auburn-haired woman next to me, who also seemed to be on her own, when a trim blonde woman walked in and the room fell silent. Oh no, I thought, my heart sinking at the sight of her. Was
this
the group leader? She was about fifty, I guessed, and looked great in a deep coral scoop-necked dress that fell just below the knee and strappy wedge sandals. Ri-i-i-ight. What would someone like
her
know about weight loss?

‘Hi, everyone!’ she said in a thick Brummie accent and smiled around the room. ‘How are we doing this evening? Hope you all had a lovely weekend.’ She caught my eye and I found myself smiling back at her. She was personable, at least – you had to give her that. ‘There are a few new faces here tonight – fantastic. For those of you who have come along for the first time, my name’s Alison and I’m your group leader. And believe me, I know what it’s like to be on a diet. Have you all clocked the flattering picture of me over there?’

She pointed to the cardboard cut-out and I couldn’t help gasping out loud.
That
was Alison? No! Surely not . . . But as I stared, I recognized the blue eyes and the smile buried deep in the chubby round face. It really was her. And clearly, therefore, she really
did
know what it was like to be on a diet.

She’d caught my reaction and was grinning in delight. ‘Ahhh, I love it when people do that,’ she said, mimicking my double-take. ‘Now then . . . Down to business. For the newbies, this is how it goes: I chat to you, you chat to me, then we get out the scales of doom and see how we’ve all got along. Everything that gets said in here is confidential, so try not to be scared – you’re among friends and allies. You can tell the group how your week’s been, and how you’re finding the diet, or you can have a private chat with me when we do the weigh-in. Okay? Let’s get started, and see who’s here tonight, and then our new girls can introduce themselves.’

She opened a ringbinder folder and ran her finger down a register. She reminded me a bit of Julie Walters – warm and funny, with a wicked laugh and a twinkle in her eye.

‘Brenda . . . Have we got Brenda? Ah yes. Hello, Brenda! Clare . . . Yes, there’s our Clare, with a rather gorgeous new pair of shoes, I see . . . I’ll be asking you about those later, Clare, they’re just what I’ve been looking for. Derek – there you are, excellent. You know, Derek, I’m sure you’re looking slimmer around the face these days. Well done, love. Helena . . . do we have Helena tonight? No? Okay . . .’

So it went on, with a word and smile for everyone. ‘Well, that’s not a bad showing,’ she said when she got to the end of the list. ‘And we’ve got . . . let’s see . . . one, two,
three
new faces here tonight. Ladies, would you like to introduce yourselves?’ She turned to a woman across the circle from me. ‘Perhaps you could go first, hon?’

The woman in question had brown shoulder-length hair in a neat bob, and a round face. She didn’t look hugely overweight to me, just a bit plump. The kind of body I could only dream about, sadly. She seemed vaguely familiar . . . then, as she opened her mouth, I recognized her. I’d seen her in the coffee bar at the fitness centre on Saturday – she’d been kind to me, given me a tissue when I’d been blubbing there like an idiot. I felt my cheeks turn pink. Oh no. I hoped she didn’t recognize me.

‘My name’s Jess,’ she said in a low voice. She twisted her hands in her lap, not making eye contact with anyone. ‘Um . . . I work as a beauty therapist but I don’t feel very beautiful myself.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m getting married at Christmas and want to look amazing for my fiancé, but diets never seem to work on me. I always give up after a few days.’

There was a murmur from the rest of the group – yes, they knew where she was coming from.

‘Well, you’re in the right place now, Jess,’ Alison told her. ‘We’ll all help you reach your goal. And to be quite honest with you, I must have tried every diet under the sun and not been able to stick to it before I lost my weight the FatBusters way – so take heart.’ She paused. ‘But remember, love – you say you want to look amazing for your future husband at the wedding, but you’ve got to want it for
yourself
too. That’s crucial.’

Jess nodded, looking up at Alison for the first time. ‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Great. Because it really winds me up, the way some people expect us all to have perfect figures,’ Alison said, talking to everyone now. ‘It’s wrong. I don’t want anyone here to feel they ought to lose weight just because they don’t look like the matchstick celebrities you see in magazines, or because they think that having a size ten figure will bring them eternal happiness. Or because they feel under pressure from another person to be slimmer! That’s not what this is about. I want everyone here to have made a positive decision about themselves – to lose weight for healthy reasons, not because society says you should be a size zero and you feel bad for having curves.’ She grinned apologetically. ‘Rant over. Sorry. Now, let’s hear from our next lady,’ she said, turning to me.

I swallowed, feeling rather unnerved as all faces swivelled in my direction.

‘Hi,’ I said, my voice coming out low and quiet. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Hi. My name’s Maddie. And . . .’ I was floored, suddenly. I didn’t want to mention the radio programme – it might seem like showing off. And as for the gym experience . . . the thought of trotting it out made me feel too vulnerable, especially with Jess sitting there. I went for Nightmare on School Street instead. ‘I’m here because I came last in the mums’ race at my kids’ school sports day the other day and . . .’ It was surprisingly hard to get the words out. ‘And I felt really ashamed of myself.’ I dared to glance around, worried I’d see jeering expressions. Thankfully there was nothing but sympathetic looks. ‘I want to lose weight now so that my kids aren’t embarrassed by me. And so that I feel confident and sexy again.’ I blushed. Where had
that
come from?

A large black woman nearby started clapping. ‘Amen to
that
,’ she said, winking at me. A couple of other people clapped too.

‘That’s what we all want, babe,’ one of the older ladies put in, a smile lighting up her lined face.

Alison was nodding in sympathy. ‘School sports days were always torture for me too,’ she confided. ‘As a kid I dreaded them. As a mum I dreaded them. Still, next year will be different, I’m sure. We want you leading the pack and getting gold, Maddie, don’t we, everyone?’

‘Well, I don’t know about that . . .’ I started, but my voice was drowned out by the enthusiastic ‘Yeah!’ that the others chorused.

I gulped, feeling a wash of emotions. All right, so I knew deep down they were only
saying
it, but there was something uplifting about feeling as if the whole room was behind me, cheering me on. I realized I was glad I’d come to the meeting. It killed me to say it, but maybe Collette had actually done me a favour.

The session continued with the introduction of the third newcomer – auburn-haired Lauren, sitting next to me, who remained tight-lipped about herself and why she was there – and then Alison launched into a pep talk.

‘I want to speak about treats tonight,’ she said. ‘I don’t know about you, but when I was dieting, the treats I lusted after were usually the calorific type: Galaxy bars, tubes of sour cream and onion Pringles, a big bowl of chocolate pudding and custard . . .’

‘Trifle,’ one of the grannies called out, her face a picture of longing.

‘Beer,’ Derek-with-the-slimmer-face put in, eyes heavenward.

‘Mars bars!’

‘Ice cream!’

‘Exactly,’ Alison said, interrupting, as a stream of suggestions came tumbling out. ‘So what I did was to think about
new
treats to give myself instead, treats that wouldn’t add anything to my waistline.’ She grinned. ‘It’s your lucky day, girls. I’m giving you permission to go shopping.’

An excited-sounding
ooooh
went round the room. Everyone seemed to like the sound of that. Alison held up a slim arm and jangled a charm bracelet on her wrist.

‘See this?’ she asked. ‘When I started my diet five years ago, this bracelet was empty. I bought it for myself on the very first day of my diet because I know what I’m like – I need the thought of treats to keep me going. Now, back then, I weighed in at twenty stone . . . and I wanted to get down to half that. I knew I had a long journey ahead of me.’

We were all spellbound, listening to her.
Yes
, I thought
.
I’ve got a long journey too. How did you manage yours, Alison?

‘I promised myself that every time I lost half a stone, I’d go back to the jeweller’s shop and buy myself a gorgeous new charm or bead to put on my bracelet,’ she went on. ‘And do you know what? It really worked for me. All the time that I was dieting, I’d be eyeing up which charm I’d buy next, trying to choose one that seemed appropriate for that time of my life, so that I could look back and remember why I bought it.
This
one, for example, is a heart shape, and I bought it when my eldest daughter told us she was getting engaged.’

‘Ahhh,’ murmured the grannies, wrinkling their noses and smiling at each other.

‘And this one is like a dice,’ Alison went on. ‘I chose that one because my husband took me to Vegas for our silver wedding anniversary.’ She rolled her eyes comically. ‘What can I say, the man’s always been a bit of a gambler. He had to be, taking a chance on me, right?’

There was a ripple of laughter, but everyone was smiling at her.

Alison slipped the bracelet off and handed it to the person sitting nearest her. ‘Here, pass it around, you can all have a look,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t have to be a bracelet that you get for yourself, of course. You could save up all the money you
would
have spent on chocolate or crisps – it adds up fast, you know – and buy something else with it when you lose each stone. Cinema tickets for you and your loved one. A facial or a massage. A new top – you’ll be needing lots of those as the weight falls off. Or even tickets to the football,’ she said, looking meaningfully at Derek and the other bloke, Kevin, who were starting to shuffle on their chairs with all this shopping talk.

The bracelet had reached me by now and I fingered the silver charms and glass beads that had been threaded onto it. It was a Pandora bracelet – I’d seen them in the Jewellery Quarter and knew they weren’t cheap. But as a special treat . . . hmmm. I could see how the idea would work.

‘And the thing about buying something you can wear, like a bracelet, is that you’re always reminded of how well you’re doing,’ Alison went on. ‘If you have a moment of weakness – and God knows we all get them – you can glance down at your wrist and remind yourself of your goal and your achievement so far. So that’s this week’s advice – think about what kind of treat will keep you on the straight and narrow, and start up a fund for it!’

An excited buzz of chatter broke out amongst the group as people discussed treats. I fancied a bracelet like Alison’s, but everyone had different ideas about what to spend the money on: a new DVD, a night at the Bingo, holiday savings . . . One of the teenagers even said she’d like to get a tattoo for every stone she lost.

Then out came the scales and we were all weighed one by one. A big cheer went up whenever anyone had lost a pound or two . . . and excuses came out if someone’s weight had stalled or crept back up.

‘Sorry . . . it’s been a bad week at work.’

‘It was my friend’s hen night and I had a lot to drink.’

‘I felt a bit low and had a KFC binge.’

When it was my turn, Alison presented me with a little FatBusters book containing the calorie content for all sorts of different food and a weight chart at the back.

‘Nice and steady, that’s the best way to lose the pounds,’ she advised, filling in my name and weight. ‘A pound or two a week is perfect, okay?’

It was so different from Saturday, when Jacob had shown such strong disapproval when he measured my weight, that I felt a lump in my throat. ‘Thank you,’ I managed to say.

‘This is a wonderful group,’ she told me, touching my arm and looking straight into my face. ‘We’re all rooting for you, Maddie, okay? Keep remembering that.’

I walked out of there at the end of the evening feeling five stone lighter and bubbling with good intentions. I was really going to do this. No doubt about it. The new, improved Maddie Lawson would emerge with a bracelet full of charms and the best bum in Brum. I would be Queen of the FatBusters, with my slim trim waist and lovely legs.

I smiled to myself as I walked down the street, the sun sinking behind the roof-tops. I could hardly wait for the next meeting.

Chapter Four

Instant Whip

Lauren

I was just about to chomp into a big sugary jam doughnut when the phone rang. Bollocks. I was almost tempted to ignore it, but times had been hard lately and we needed all the customers we could get. With a last longing look at the doughnut, I took the call.

‘Good morning, Love Hearts?’

Please note – it wasn’t me who came up with that godawful name. It was Jenny Warrington, the company founder, back in the Nineties. By the time I bought the franchise, the brand was too well established to be changed. Or at least that’s what she told me when I asked if I could rename my branch of the agency.