The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (11 page)

He grabbed his briefcase before stopping to rub his chest. It was probably only indigestion
from the Cornish pasties at lunchtime. At least, that’s what he told himself.

His mother had fussed over him at the weekend, telling him he looked terrible.

‘You need to start looking after yourself,’ she had told him. ‘You’ve not got any colour.’

‘It’s only May,’ Edward told her. ‘Why would I have a suntan?’

His mother had shook her head. ‘You don’t look well. You’re carrying too much weight.’

‘I’m fine, Mum.’

She had fussed over him ever since his father had passed away four years previously. His dad had
suffered
numerous minor strokes over the years but the last stroke had been a major event and he had not survived. Now Edward’s mum was convinced he would go the same way as his dad. It was the same every time he popped home to see her, which was why the visits were becoming less
frequent.

The celebration with the IT Department was certain to turn into a meal at the local Indian with a lot of booze attached. His mind briefly flickered on to the diet club. But business was business. Besides, he could be humiliated at the diet club by that stick insect Trudie or he could have a laugh with his workmates. No contest.

He didn’t feel too guilty about not attending the diet
club. Everyone else would be there, wouldn’t they?

VIOLET HADN’T GONE
to the weigh-in class either. After her disastrous low-carb diet failure, she had been too embarrassed. It would never have worked. Besides, she hated getting weighed in public. It was too stressful.

Anyway, she had enough on her plate that week as they were going to a wedding at the weekend. One of Sebastian’s colleagues was getting married. Violet was hoping
to pick up some tips for their own wedding day. But it wasn’t feeling like their wedding any more. Sebastian’s parents had completely taken over.

‘I’m just saying,’ Violet told Sebastian as they drove to the church. ‘It would be nice to have had some consultation before your mother increased the guest list to a hundred and ninety.’

‘Who cares?’ said Sebastian, fiddling with the air-conditioning
temperature. ‘The more the merrier.’

‘But I don’t know most of them.’ Violet was trying not to let her voice whine.

‘Nor do I,’ he replied. ‘Look, just let Mum sort everything out. It takes the stress off you, doesn’t it?’

‘But perhaps I want the stress,’ said Violet. ‘Perhaps I’d like some involvement in my own wedding day.’

Sebastian swung around to glare at her for a moment. ‘She’s doing
all this for us,’ he snapped. ‘You could be a little more grateful. After all, Mum has a busy life too.’

‘I know,’ said Violet. ‘But how much is this all going to cost?’

‘Your inheritance kicks in next year so we can pay it all back then.’

Sebastian bringing up the subject of money startled her somewhat. It seemed that her inheritance was being spent before Violet had even received it.

Having
spent many miserable teenage years with her aunt and uncle, she certainly never expected to receive any inheritance from them. Her uncle had left a small legacy, enough to put a deposit down on her lovely house. But a year afterwards, her aunt had also passed away. With Violet being the only remaining family member, the whole estate passed to her.

It was only when she was summoned to the solicitors
that Violet was told she stood to inherit an astounding £120,000. It seemed an extraordinary amount, especially when her aunt had been so cruel in the years following her parents’ accident.

But her aunt had still had the last laugh. The final kick in the teeth was her will. Yes, she’d left Violet her money. But Violet wasn’t able to access it until she was thirty, by which time she would be deemed
trustworthy.

Did she want this reminder of her cruel aunt? Of all those awful years? Not really.

Of course, she had daydreamed about what to do with the money. A long trip somewhere, perhaps around the world. She could pay off a large chunk from the mortgage, leaving her with a bit more money each month. She had even considered going to university so she could get more meaningful work. But nothing
concrete, no definite plans.

‘Maybe we should just give it all to a cats’ home,’ she said, only half joking.

Sebastian looked horrified. ‘You can’t waste it! That’s for our future.’

Violet shrugged her shoulders. ‘We both work. We don’t need it.’

‘If we invest it carefully, we could be millionaires in ten years. Then retire early.’

I don’t care about being a millionaire, thought Violet. Not
unless it makes me thin. But then she had an idea.

‘Maybe we could travel round Europe,’ she said, voicing an idea she had long thought buried. ‘We could go to Italy. I saw a programme years ago. It looks wonderful.’

‘Don’t be silly, pumpkin.’

‘But why not?’ she pressed. ‘With that money, we could take a gap year from work and travel around, immerse ourselves in different cultures.’

‘Are you
mad?’ he snorted. ‘Why would I want to see how other people live? That doesn’t interest me. Unless they’re pouring my cocktail in a fancy restaurant or hotel.’

Perhaps it was best that the money was going to wards their wedding, thought Violet. After all, it was supposed to be the most important day of their lives. They could work out what to spend the rest on at a later date.

‘About the wedding,’
she began. ‘I am grateful for
your
mother’s help but we didn’t even have the chance to choose the food for the evening buffet.’

Sebastian suddenly became angry and gripped the steering wheel. ‘If Elizabeth had survived, she would have been able to plan her wedding,’ he said in a steely tone. ‘But, as you know, she didn’t and so my mother only has my wedding to look forward to.’

The subject of
Elizabeth was brought up whenever Sebastian needed to defend his mother’s actions. His baby sister had died soon after birth and was the reason that Sebastian was so smothered by his mother.

‘But it’s my wedding day too,’ Violet said in small voice.

‘You’re being totally unreasonable,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know what’s up with you today. After all, it’s not like there’s anyone on your side to
help, is there?’

Violet clenched her fists on her lap but didn’t reply. She was probably wrong about her desires for the wedding. She was usually wrong about everything else.

But he had brought her parents into the argument so she sulked as well. The remainder of the journey was spent in sullen silence, with Sebastian continuing to ignore her once they were outside the church.

It was quite
a smart occasion, despite being held in a tiny church. Violet felt dowdy in her normal black batwing top and trousers. Even her sparkly jewellery did little to liven up the outfit. Everyone else was in lovely, bright dresses and fascinators.

The bride and groom had also been blessed by glorious end of May sunshine. It was like a mini heatwave and Violet could feel the sweat beginning to form
under her arms and around her waist. She prayed it didn’t show through the top.

Sebastian’s colleagues stood around, braying at each other. The men were all going on about their jobs. She had no idea what they were talking about. But worse were the looks from the women: a mixture of envy and pity. She shuffled from foot to foot and wished she had called off sick so she could hide at home.

Thankfully,
it was soon time to sit down and concentrate on the service.

Sebastian was still making a point of ignoring her so Violet stared down at the Order of Service. It was a thick, cream card with gold embossed swirls for the edging. It looked and felt expensive. But Violet preferred the home-made ones she had seen in a bridal magazine. She wasn’t certain how Sebastian or his parents would cope with
home-made.

Everyone stood up for the bride as she appeared. As well as the posh stationery, it appeared she hadn’t skimped on her dress either. It was a beautiful but elaborate gown, embroidered with sparkling beads. The strapless bodice clinched in her tiny waist before cascading into a massive, full skirt with an extra-long train. It swamped her tiny frame but she looked beautiful.

Violet
felt a stab of panic as everyone murmured their approval. They were all saying how wonderful the bride looked. What on earth would they say about her in seven months’ time?

She took a deep breath. It was OK. It would be fine.

Sebastian kept his eyes on the altar and didn’t turn to look at her, even though she knew he could feel her watching him.

The service was lovely, everyone remembered their
lines and the only slight hitch came as the vicar declared them husband and wife. The handsome
groom
stepped forward to kiss his beautiful bride. But he never got the chance.

She hissed at him, ‘You’re standing on my bloody dress!’

Hardly a serene bride but Violet put it down to nerves.

Afterwards, everyone stopped for photographs outside the church. Again, as she hid at the back of the group,
she was filled with panic at the idea of being the focus of everyone’s attention.

They made their way back to the hotel and everyone got stuck into the booze. Violet sipped nervously at her non-alcoholic drink whilst everyone else downed their alcohol at an alarming rate. Especially the father of the bride, who told everyone in his speech exactly how much the wedding had cost him, including having
to pay for his daughter’s new silicon breasts.

Violet thought that she would have wanted the ground to swallow her up if that had been her. But the bride, also a little drunk by now, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she roared with laughter and jiggled her new chest up and down to show everyone that it was money well spent.

By the time the disco started, the bride was so drunk that she screamed
across to her husband, ‘Maaarrttttiiiinnn! It’s our first dance! Come on!’ Then they proceeded almost to consummate their marriage on the dance floor while Westlife crooned over the speakers.

It was hideous and Violet was desperate to get out of there. But Sebastian was in his element, knocking back the wine and laughing uproariously with his posse, most of whom were from his office. She knew
he was still making a point of ignoring her and she
kept
being elbowed out of the way until she was moved to the outside of the group.

She tried to nod and smile along but found herself unable to fake laughter at their inane jokes. Perhaps it would have helped if she were drunk too but she was driving so she was sober. And miserable.

A couple of the girls started asking about her wedding dress.
Violet shook her head, saying she hadn’t decided yet. But she knew what they were thinking. Where is she going to get a dress that fits?

A secretary who worked with Sebastian said there was an outsize bridal dress shop near her. Great. Violet’s cheeks burned as she smiled politely. The woman was trying to be helpful but Violet was beginning to feel ill.

In the end, she couldn’t bear the scrutiny
so she went to the ladies’ toilets and locked herself away in a cubicle. There, she tried to take deep breaths to compose herself.

It must be wonderful to have self-assurance, thought Violet. To be confident amongst people. She had never had that luxury. Violet had spent her whole adult life trying to hide in a corner, trying to be invisible.

She heard the door sweep open and the clink-clink
of high heels on tiles.

‘This is so bloody dull,’ crowed one of the girls.

Violet recognised her voice as one of Sebastian’s work colleagues. She couldn’t remember her name.

‘Why don’t we just leave?’ whined her friend. ‘That bitch Samantha won’t notice. She’s out of her head on Bacardi Breezers.’

‘Very classy for a bride. Look, just give me another half-hour.’

‘Is that how long it will take
you to get a snog off Sebastian?’

They both giggled.

Violet gaped at them from behind the door.

‘He’s all right, I suppose,’ said one of the women.

‘All right? He hit the ugly tree on every branch, I reckon.’

They both giggled.

‘But his body’s quite fit.’

‘Yeah and you owe me five pounds if you don’t get to kiss him.’

‘You’re mean. Fancy making me a bet when I was drunk.’

There was a
short silence whilst they fiddled around in their handbags, presumably to find and renew their make-up.

Violet stared at the closed door in front of her. Her Sebastian? Her saviour? Ugly? No, he wasn’t. Was he? No, she was sure of it. Why else would she be with him?

She shocked herself with a sudden thought. Perhaps she could do better? OK, so maybe her fiancé wasn’t a handsome man like, say,
Mark from work. He was drop dead gorgeous. All the girls said so.

But Sebastian wasn’t a hobbit, even if he was a bit shorter than she was. Yes, he could be childish on occasion but that was only because his mum had smothered him when he was growing up. And yes, he did cheat on her. But that was because he and Violet had had a row and he had gone off and got drunk. Besides, he always hated it
when she disagreed with him about something.

Sebastian was lovely, she told herself. He was everything. And he was the only man who had ever wanted her.

‘What about his fiancée?’ came a voice from outside of the cubicle.

The other girl gave a snort of derision. ‘Did you see the state of her? What does she look like?’

‘Why is he marrying her?’ asked the friend.

‘Out of pity, I expect. Or maybe
she’s loaded with money. It certainly isn’t for her looks.’

They giggled once more.

‘What will she look like as a bride?’

‘She’ll probably need to hire a marquee. To wear, I mean!’

They both hooted with laughter and were still giggling when they left.

Violet stood up, trying to take it all in. She held on to the wall for support, her head reeling. Then she turned around and retched into the
toilet.

Thankfully there wasn’t much to come up as she had picked at her dinner. But she retched over and over again. Finally, she flushed the toilet, put down the lid and sank down.