The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (15 page)

After the bookshop, she went into Marks & Spencer. She didn’t dare visit the cake aisle to see how many calories her favourite chocolate gateau was. Plus it would be just her luck to run into Mark. Instead she grabbed a healthy 259-calorie sandwich. It usually required crisps and a Coke to go with it but she managed to hold herself together and picked up
a piece of fruit instead.

On the way home after work, Violet went to the supermarket to stock up. It was a bit of a scrum at that time of the evening but she needed healthy meals and the corner shop wasn’t much good for that.

Normally she grabbed the food in a frenzy and then headed straight to the tills. This time she read all the
ingredients
, checking the calories and fat content. It took
her nearly an hour to find everything she needed.

In the queue for the checkouts, Violet noticed how full her shopping trolley was. Yes, it was all ready meals, diet soft drinks, yoghurts and fruit but it still seemed a lot, considering she was on a diet. How was she going to lose weight eating all of this?

She was still aiming to stick to 1,500 calories a day. She had worked out on the computer
during the long stretches of boredom at work that she had actually been consuming 3,500 calories on a typical day. Gulp. If Violet had been a marathon runner that would have been OK. But she barely moved so it was just massing around her stomach and hips.

Now she was getting organised and was aiming for 250 calories for breakfast, 350 for lunch and 450 for dinner. With a couple of pieces of fruit,
some milk and a low-calorie dessert each day, that was it. Violet prayed it would be enough.

That evening, she waited for the microwave to ping that her low-calorie meal was ready. With three minutes left to go, she idly opened the fridge door and stared in.

One idea that was commonly repeated in the magazines and on the internet was to clear the fridge and kitchen cupboards of anything that
wasn’t healthy. Violet looked in the fridge. It looked like food heaven but she knew it was dragging her downwards towards her current hell.

She grabbed a dustbin liner. She had to take control. She had to start to lose weight properly. And sensibly.

She began to shove all the food into the bag. In went a glorious cheesecake. Some blocks of heavenly cheese. It was heartbreaking but it had to
be done.
She
wanted a life with Sebastian. And if that meant doing without, then she would just have to cope. Violet tried not to cry.

She would have kept any healthy food back, of course. But it turned out there wasn’t any apart from the fruit and ready meals she had just bought.

She stared at the half-empty fridge and closed the door. Then she opened a cupboard and began to add all the crisps,
cakes and biscuits to the bin. She kept going until the shelves were empty and only a large packet of peanuts remained. They were protein so that should be OK.

Violet closed the door, opened it once more and added the peanuts to the overflowing bin bag. Who was she kidding?

Her microwave pinged ready. It wasn’t the worst thing she had eaten but it was pretty miserable. Stodgy enough to keep
the hunger at bay but not very satisfying. Healthy, but she didn’t feel any nutrients rushing around her body.

After dinner, Violet continued to vet the whole kitchen. From cooking ingredients – all that cooking chocolate had to go – to the biscuit barrel, which held on tight to its buttery shortbread before finally releasing its hold. Nothing was sacred. Every food with any fat went in the bin.
Violet was in a food frenzy.

She tied up the two large bags of food waste and put them in the front garden, ready for the refuse collection the following Monday. Then she quickly closed the front door and went back into the lounge.

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.

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 losers 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.