The Making of Mia (19 page)

Every morning Jo woke up and sat outside by herself, watching the sun slowly appear over the horizon, and breathing in the
warm air that swept in from the Gulf of Mexico. After she’d waved to Harry and Sylvia, the silver-haired couple who lived
in a glorious corner condo on the floor above, Jo would make her way down to the communal swimming pool. She swam forty small
lengths, thinking of William the whole time, before letting the morning sun dry her lightly tanned skin. Even though her arms
ached from breaststroke and her legs were like lead, she felt refreshed. Invigorated.

When Jo was dry she’d eat breakfast with Amelia, taking small mouthfuls of Florida oranges and grapefruits while Amelia feasted
on crispy bacon and pancakes. Without fail Jo would eye Amelia’s plate hungrily, and even though Amelia told her that a few
rashers of bacon wouldn’t hurt, Jo was determined to stick to a fat-free diet. It was severe, but the memory of Joshua’s taunts
and Debbie’s catty comments spurred her on. Jo was going to do everything in her power to get down to a size ten – even if
she had no control over her career she had control over what she ate, and how she worked out.

After breakfast Jo would jump on Amelia’s second-hand bicycle to go to the supermarket. Publix was like any other American
store – the aisles were full of brightly packaged, luscious junk food. Enormous bags of crisps sat alongside the largest variety
of dips Jo had ever seen, and there were rows and rows of cake mixes, chocolate bars, cookie dough, frozen pizzas and types
of pasta. The first time Jo had seen a bag of honey-and-mustard-flavoured sourdough pieces her
mouth had actually watered, and to make it worse the smell of delicious store-cooked fried chicken made her stomach rumble
loudly. Jo normally spent about twenty minutes every day examining the food, telling herself that the vibrant, shiny packets
carried more calories than anyone should eat, but she still wanted it. At night she even dreamt about breaking into Publix
and cramming the crisps into her mouth. It wasn’t something she was proud of.

To force herself to buy fruit, salad and fish, Jo reminded herself of what she looked like in her swimming costume, and how
she’d never be able to stand William seeing her like that. Every time she pictured her body naked but for the Lycra costume
her eyes would get hot with prickly tears, and she made herself walk to the vegetable aisle, loading up her basket with corn
on the cob, squash and salad.

But despite her weight Jo knew she was nowhere near as large as the majority of obese Americans who ate all their meals at
McDonald’s or Taco Bell. The first time an overweight stranger had said hello to her Jo had eyed her suspiciously, but Amelia
set her straight, telling her that Longboat Key was a small community where everyone was friendly. Jo compared this to the
bitchy magazine world and wondered why she had stuck at it for so long. For the first time since she could remember she was
fully relaxed, and although she loathed herself she didn’t feel uncomfortable wearing shorts and vests, as ninety-five per
cent of Longboat Key was made up of retired Americans who didn’t give a damn what Jo looked like. She wondered why she hadn’t
allowed herself a holiday with her freelance money sooner.

In the afternoons Jo roller-bladed with Amelia, and they whizzed along the cycle paths up to St Armand’s Circle, where they
looked in the windows of exclusive designer shops for older ladies and laughed at the fashion. Every day they allowed themselves
to spend ten dollars on a piece of junk jewellery,
and every day they fell about laughing outside the shops, reminding themselves of the sales assistants’ enthusiastic comments
about how great their new pieces were. Like Amelia said, as she examined her fake Cartier ring over their daily lunch of Caesar
salad (with no dressing for Jo), who needed taste when you had money, and who needed money when you could buy knock-off jewels
for a couple of dollars?

When Jo and Amelia got back to the condo, Amelia would jump in the car and head down to the tennis academy to help Jackson
teach twelve-year-olds, and Jo would cross the road to the beach. Longboat Key was made up of a single main road, with the
Gulf of Mexico and the beach on one side, and the quay on the other, and Jo relished being so close to the water. For hours
she would lay flat on her back savouring the empty stretch of white sand and the endless blue sky, and if she got bored she
would flick through American editions of
Vanity Fair
,
Glamour
and
Cosmopolitan
. Jo idly wondered if it was worth trying to get some work on an American magazine, but she pushed the thought out of her
head. She was here to relax, have fun and lose weight. And she was managing to do all three, even though she couldn’t see
how the weight was falling off her.

A few months later Amelia noticed that Jo’s clothes were all too big for her, but Jo didn’t want to know.

‘You’ve lost weight, you know,’ Amelia said absent-mindedly one evening as they ate a crab and lobster salad by the swimming
pool. The stars twinkled over the Gulf of Mexico and Jo realised what a romantic setting it would have been if Amelia had
been a man. Jo felt a sharp yearning for William, but she pushed it aside and tried to concentrate on enjoying what she was
experiencing rather than wanting something else. Jo digested what Amelia had said and snorted with laughter. Clearly the moonlight
had cast a flattering shadow over her body.

‘It’s sweet of you to say that, but I don’t think I have,’ Jo said sceptically, as Amelia ate a piece of walnut bread spread
liberally with butter. ‘I’m enormous.’

Amelia looked at Jo incredulously. ‘You are joking, aren’t you? Your clothes are pretty much hanging off you.’ She leant over
and pulled at Jo’s light cotton T-shirt. ‘What size is this?’ she demanded, and Jo felt a flash of anger ripple through her.
Why couldn’t she relax and enjoy her supper? she thought. Why was Amelia bringing this up now?

‘It’s an eighteen,’ Jo said, sullenly, and glared at Amelia to make a point. ‘It’s from Evans.’

Amelia looked satisfied and ate some more salad, chewing on a piece of lobster thoughtfully. ‘I’d say it’s at least two sizes
too big for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a size sixteen now. Or even a fourteen.’

Jo looked at Amelia distrustfully. ‘You can’t seriously be suggesting I’ve dropped two sizes since I’ve been out here. Is
that even possible?’

Amelia shrugged and speared a piece of crab on her fork. ‘I don’t know, but it looks like you have. I mean, all you do all
day is work out or sunbathe, and I don’t think a morsel of food has passed your lips unless you have checked that it has less
than ten calories. You can’t be eating more than a thousand calories a day. If that.’

Jo shook her head. ‘I think I’m eating too much,’ she said. ‘And I feel really lazy – for hours every afternoon I sunbathe,
and I could be working out in that time. In fact, I was thinking about joining that new gym in Sarasota. I know we’re not
here for that much longer but I think it will be worth it. I’ve got a craving to lift some weights … it might help me shift
some of this lard.’

Amelia rolled her eyes. ‘Jo, look at yourself! Can you not see that you’ve lost loads of weight already?’

Jo shook her head and Amelia looked at her sadly. Jo’s
eyes had turned to steel. ‘I think you must have forgotten what I look like because I’ve barely lost any weight at all.’ Jo
cast her gaze over the swimming pool and tried to control the anger bubbling up inside her. She really didn’t want to fall
out with her best friend.

Amelia dropped her fork on her plate with a clatter and pushed her chair back away from the table. ‘Right, I’ve had enough.
Come with me.’

Amelia led Jo back to the condo and made her stand in front of a mirror, where Jo tried to look at everything but herself.
‘Can you see your cheekbones?’ Amelia asked pointedly. ‘And look here,’ she said, yanking down the neck of Jo’s T-shirt. ‘Look
at your collarbone. You couldn’t see it a month ago, but you definitely can now.’ Amelia started pulling at Jo’s clothes,
doing a great Trinny and Susannah impression. Jo wondered at what point Amelia was going to cup her breasts and say that she
needed a better-fitting bra.

Jo gave in and concentrated on her image in the mirror. She scowled. ‘But look at my stomach. It’s hanging over my shorts.
Look at my legs, and, God, look at my thighs. I’m so ugly.’ Jo sat on the bed and tried not to cry. Her hair was messed up
from the chlorine in the swimming pool, and she could barely see her eyes, which she believed were still hidden within the
fat above her plump cheeks. She felt so disgusted with herself.

Amelia sat down next to her and sighed, awkwardly putting her arm around her friend. ‘I’ve not wanted to share this with you
because I didn’t want you to become obsessed. But I have a secret.’ Despite herself Jo was interested – did she have diet
pills? Laxatives? Even though she knew they were bad for her Jo was getting desperate. She absolutely had to lose some weight
and maybe this was how Amelia managed to never put on a pound. ‘They’re in my bathroom. Do you want to see?’

Amelia came back into Jo’s bedroom with her hands behind her back, and she produced some expensive-looking electric scales.
Jo felt her heart sink – she’d have preferred diet pills, even though she knew William would have been disgusted with her
for even thinking that.

‘I think it’s time we let the scales speak for themselves,’ Amelia said, and Jo eyed them warily before burying her head in
her hands. She didn’t think she could stand the shame of Amelia seeing just how overweight she was. It would be on a par with
her friend trying out some bikini wax strips on her – absolutely mortifying.

‘I can’t do it. I don’t think I can bear knowing.’

‘Jo, I really think you should,’ Amelia said gently, and she put the scales on the floor and felt sympathy flood her body.
She had read enough magazines to know that Jo had a distorted image of her body, and she wanted her friend to realise that
everyone else could see a slimmer, more toned version of the girl she thought she was. ‘How much did you weigh the last time
you stood on a pair of these?’

‘Sixteen stone,’ she said sullenly, and she waited for a disgusted reaction from Amelia that didn’t come. Amelia’s face remained
passive.

‘I am willing to bet you have lost at least a stone,’ Amelia said. ‘And you know me, I’m never wrong. Come on, get on.’

Jo refused for about ten minutes, but when she realised Amelia was not going to leave her alone she slowly kicked off her
flip-flops and climbed on to the scales. As well as hating herself she also hated Amelia for making her break her promise
– despite her friend’s earnest observations she was sure she hadn’t lost any weight at all, and Jo didn’t think she could
bear knowing she hadn’t lost a pound. Jo looked at the back of Amelia’s head as her friend peered down at the display, and
when Amelia didn’t say anything she felt animosity run through her body.

‘Well?’ she said defensively, unable to keep the nervousness from her voice.

‘I was wrong, I’m sorry.’

Jo stared at Amelia and felt a sudden hostility towards her. What did Amelia know about humiliation? Jo thought, as she took
in the tiny denim hotpants and tight Abercrombie T-shirt that her friend was wearing. Nothing had ever gone wrong for Amelia
– apart from the situation with Charlie – and that had only happened because Amelia was so nice and so trusting that Charlie
had walked all over her. No, Jo concluded, that couldn’t have been that humiliating. And it was nothing on Jo getting all
her hopes up about losing weight and finding out she’d not lost any at all.

‘You’ve lost nearly four stone.’

Jo looked up at Amelia in surprise and then looked down at the scales in shock. Without realising it, she’d got down to twelve
stone.

September 2004

‘I can’t believe you’re going home. What am I going to do without you?’ Jo said through her tears as she gave Amelia another
hug.

‘Hey, you’ll be fine, just you wait and see. I almost wish I could stay, but I have to go. Daddy’s already paid the tuition
fees for my MA and he’ll go mad if I don’t go back home.’ Amelia struggled out of Jo’s grasp and surveyed her friend. In the
time they’d spent together Jo had gone down to a size fourteen and was a happier, more confident version of the girl who had
walked through arrivals clutching her handbag nervously. She was wearing beat-up Diesel jeans and a close-fitting T-shirt
and she looked healthy. Mission accomplished. Amelia was proud of her, even though she had tears dripping down her face.

‘I don’t care about your dad. Drop out of college and get a job in Kilwin’s ice-cream parlour,’ Jo said with a pout. ‘I’ll
get a job selling those handbags that people carry tiny dogs in and we can live out here permanently.’

Amelia grimaced. ‘What, and face seeing broken-hearted Jackson for the rest of my life? No, thank you.’ Amelia thought back
to the previous week when she’d gently told Jackson she was going home. Despite him knowing theirs was only a holiday romance
he seemed genuinely devastated when she’d told him she wasn’t willing to have a long-distance
relationship. Amelia hoped he’d get over it – his backhand had gone downhill since then and she couldn’t bear it if he lost
his job.

Amelia glanced at the TV screen that said her flight was about to board. ‘I’m not forsaking my education for anything – not
even for Kilwin’s fudge-flavoured ice cream.’

‘You know, I always wonder how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t messed up my A-levels,’ Jo said thoughtfully. ‘I’d
be at journalism college right now. I’d not know about the shady, shallow world of magazines, and I’d probably be having a
whale of a time, living in digs and getting pissed every night.’

The girls stared at each other thoughtfully.

‘But you know what, I’m glad I didn’t go to university, and I’m even happier that I can stay out here for a bit longer while
I find a place in Miami. Are you sure your grandmother doesn’t mind?’