The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club (23 page)

Nonna gestured towards the brightly coloured vegetables in front of them. She reached down and brought out a courgette. Ah, thought Violet. Zucchini was Italian for courgette. No wonder she hadn’t been able to find it in the supermarket.

She watched Nonna feel the courgette before shaking her head.
Then she squeezed another and nodded.

‘
Bene
,’ she muttered, giving Violet a large smile as she handed over the vegetable.

Violet felt now was the time to attempt a little Italian, if only to be polite and say thank you. ‘
Grazie
,’ she said, rhyming it with ‘patsy’.

‘Ah!’ cried Nonna, clapping her hands together with joy. ‘
Parla italiano, eh
?’

Nonna appeared overjoyed that Violet was now attempting
to speak her language. Violet made a face and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, not really.

But Nonna had taken her hand and squeezed it, as if to reassure Violet. ‘
Grazie
,’ said Nonna, over-pronouncing the word as she rolled the ‘r’ and spread out the middle part of the word.

Then she smiled and Violet realised she was waiting for Violet to repeat the word. She cleared her throat. ‘
Grazie
,’ said Violet, this time copying the Italian pronunciation.

Nonna beamed as she nodded her head. ‘
Bene
,’ she said.

Violet had no choice but to smile back at the old lady. She was grateful her efforts had pleased Nonna.

Violet handed over the money for the courgette and left, waving at Nonna as she went. At least she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself.

Her mobile rang as she headed back
to the office. It was Kathy.

‘So what should I have for dinner tonight?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got a pie in the freezer but I don’t think you’ll let me have that.’

‘I’m having fish,’ Violet told her. ‘Salmon with steamed vegetables. Try slicing some fresh garlic and ginger over the salmon before you wrap it in foil to bake in the oven. It’s really nice.’

‘Can I have a baked potato with it?’

‘Only
if it’s no bigger than your fist and you don’t smother it in butter.

‘You’re mean and nobody likes you,’ replied Kathy, before chatting away about the salad she’d had for lunch.

The phone calls continued for the rest of the week. Violet even received one from Edward about the pros and cons of breakfast cereals.

But nobody seemed to be going hungry, least of all her, Violet realised. The fish
and vegetables were tasty and full of flavour. And if her stomach did rumble, she had stocked up on plenty of fruit.

The strawberries were so sweet at that time of year
that
they really didn’t need sugar. Maybe they warranted a big dollop of double cream but she managed to cope with a blob of 0 per cent Greek yoghurt and a drizzle of honey. In fact, Violet’s stomach was pretty much fooled most
of the time. It seemed the damage was mostly in her head.

Boredom was certainly the biggest problem. Finding her mind wandering longingly to the corner shop for a huge bar of chocolate one evening, Violet picked up Isabella’s book to distract herself.

The first chapter had been all about food. She reread Isabella’s instructions about buying fresh food and concentrating on lots of lean meats
and fish with plenty of fruit and vegetables.

Then she read the second chapter.

‘Rule Number Two,’ said Isabella. ‘Drink water all day. Most Italians drink at least one litre of water per day, sometimes two. It is marvellous for the skin. And brides should be glowing as they walk down the aisle.’

Violet considered what she drank at the office each day and realised that it all came out of the
vending machine. If it was hot, it was coffee. If it was cold, it was Diet Coke. At home it was cups of tea and more Diet Coke. Perhaps it was time to rethink.

‘Wine is served at dinner but there will always be a pitcher of water on the table as well. Do not drink alcohol to excess. This is not becoming in any woman, especially brides.’

Violet thought briefly about the wedding she had attended
with Sebastian and how drunk the bride had been. It had not been elegant.

Isabella carried on: ‘If you must, a little champagne is acceptable.’

How wonderful to be so refined that the only alcohol
you
allowed yourself would be champagne. What a great life Isabella must have led. A champagne-swilling style guru.

So Violet bought a two-litre bottle of water at the garage on the way to work the
following morning and began to drink. And drink. And drink until she thought her insides were going to explode.

She also pored over recipes with an Italian twist. Most of them required fresh herbs which were a little pricey, especially if they were used sparingly. She knew she could freeze the leftovers but Violet had always wanted terracotta tubs of herbs in her garden. Her mind went back to
Nonna’s pots in the courtyard. How wonderful to be able to go outside each evening and pick some fresh herbs.

The English summer was actually behaving itself and becoming hot and humid. Perhaps she could buy a few pots at the weekend and start her little Italian kitchen garden.

Violet asked Sebastian about it the following evening.

‘What do you want to go to a garden centre for?’ he said, frowning.

‘No reason,’ said Violet. ‘I just thought I could get a few herbs and things. Now that the weather is so warm.’

‘Why bother? I suppose this is to do with that fat club, is it?’

Violet frowned. ‘No. It’s to do with me wanting to do a bit more cooking.’

He raised his eyebrows at her snappy tone of voice but didn’t reply.

Violet stalked into the kitchen and stared out of the window. The garden
was completely overgrown. A few roses had pushed through from somewhere but
the
rest was a total tangle of weeds. There was probably no space for her pots anyway.

But she was upset. Why couldn’t Sebastian be supportive instead of rude? And if his opinion of the other members of the diet club was that low, what did he really think about Violet?

TRUDIE WAITED FOR
the compliments as the fatties arrived. But nobody mentioned her tan. Not even an admiring glance. What was the point of spending time in the sun if nobody told her how good she looked?

They were just jealous, that was all. Besides, it wasn’t as if any of this lot would be lying on a sun-lounger on a mini-break to Spain any time soon. The news would declare an
unexpected solar eclipse if that happened.

‘Who’s first?’ she called out.

Trudie picked at a rough bit of skin on her hand. She wasn’t going to peel, was she? That would be a disaster. She must put on some more moisturiser when she got home.

The fat man came up first with a superior look on his face. Don’t know what you’ve got to be smug about, thought Trudie as Edward stepped up on to the
scales. You’d still take up two seats on an airplane.

‘Seven pounds off,’ she told him.

‘Excellent,’ replied Edward with a smile. ‘That’s another half a stone.’

Trudie tried to return his grin but couldn’t be bothered. He genuinely seemed pleased to still be that fat. She supposed that if ignorance was bliss than Edward must be the happiest person alive.

Her back cried out to be scratched.
She was certain it was beginning to peel. It was all Trevor’s fault. She had told him to rub the moisturiser in thoroughly each night but he was always too drunk to do it properly.

She focused on the teenager Lucy as she stood up on the scales.

‘Another three pounds,’ she snapped.

‘Ha!’ yelled out Lucy in triumph before walking away.

You don’t have to shout in my face, thought Trudie. Just
wave your Asbo about.

She knew all about that generation. Getting pissed on their brightly coloured kiddie drinks. Just like Trevor, she realised. Her face screwed up into a scowl as she remembered how drunk he had become each day on their holiday.

The bride-to-be Violet had also lost three pounds. Trudie had watched a couple getting married on the beach. A very different affair to her own wedding.
That had been a quick march down to the register office by her parents. Of course, it turned out she hadn’t been pregnant after all. But she had known she was going to marry Trevor at some point so it was a good idea to get the papers signed. He had been the best prospect at school, both good-looking and intelligent. He was the one who was going places, who would take Trudie out of boring
suburbia.

To her eternal disappointment, it turned out he
actually
wanted to stay in the same town and do a boring job in a boring office. Something to do with insurance; Trudie had never been interested enough to ask.

Menopausal Maggie came up for her weigh-in.

‘Five pounds off,’ muttered Trudie.

This was so annoying. Of course, she wanted them all to do well. She received her commission
when they dropped the pounds. But where was the fun in that? She enjoyed their misery.

Trudie began to feel a little brighter as Kathy came to stand in front of her. This was better. This was the one who hadn’t lost any pounds during her time at New You! Kathy shouldn’t feel too bad, thought Trudie as she stood up on the scales. A lot of people had no talent in life.

She took a double take at
the scales. No, it couldn’t be. She looked up at Kathy.

‘You’ve lost four pounds,’ Trudie told her, trying to smile but failing.

Kathy bit her lip and looked like she was going to cry. Trudie would cry too if she had lost four pounds but still had five stone to lose.

Five stone overweight. Trudie shuddered as Kathy walked back to join the rest of the group. There was no way she would ever let
herself gain any weight. Unlike her mother who had spent most of her life plump and seemingly happy with it. It was disgusting.

Trudie had deliberately chosen the resort in Spain for its gym and sports facilities. Each morning she had pounded away any fatty residue from the all-you-can-eat buffet on the running machine, followed by two aerobic sessions.

Trevor had only seemed interested in the
all-inclusive
drinks
. He even tried to tempt her towards the pool bar that first afternoon. Was he mad? There was no way she was going to lower herself into a public pool where children had been playing and splashing about. The pool was probably diluted with all their wee.

So she just watched in disgust as Trevor drank himself into oblivion from dawn to dusk each day. It was almost as if he couldn’t
bear to be with her when he was sober.

‘IT WAS HILARIOUS
,’ Maggie was telling the group.

Kathy was also giggling. ‘Honestly, you should have seen the state of us by the end of it.’

‘You threw up!’ cried Maggie, wiping away a tear from laughing so hard.

‘That’s cheating!’ said Lucy, giggling. ‘That’s not the way to lose weight properly, is it?’

She turned to Violet, who smiled back at her, and thinking how nice
it was to see Kathy appearing a lot happier.

‘I’ve lost four pounds!’ said Kathy, still amazed. ‘I never thought it would happen. I mean, I’ve stuck to the breakfast and lunches. And the fruit instead of biscuits with my cuppa. But the dinners have been a bit borderline, calorie wise. I can’t believe it!’

‘We knew you could do it,’ said Edward.

Kathy blushed a little and couldn’t stop herself
from beaming.

‘It must have been that army fitness camp, as well,’ said Maggie.

‘Did you see Trudie’s face!’ said Lucy with glee. ‘For once she couldn’t have a go at any of us!’

‘She looked as if she’d swallowed a lump of lard,’ said Maggie with an evil grin.

‘Well done,’ said Violet. ‘Anyone for a cup of tea?’

‘I’ll help,’ said Maggie, following her into the kitchen and opening up the fridge.
‘Where’s the milk? Oooh! Look at all your healthy food. No wonder you’re doing so well.’

Violet blushed and put the teabags in the mugs.

‘What’s that garlic bread and pizza doing in there?’ said Maggie, frowning.

‘To keep my fiancé happy,’ Violet told her.

She sighed, wondering if she should confess. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm?

‘Sebastian doesn’t want me dieting,’ said Violet, pouring
out the hot water into the mugs.

‘But he knows how unhappy you are?’

‘I think so.’ Did he? Violet wasn’t certain. ‘But it makes it a bit difficult.’

Maggie took a deep breath. ‘Snap,’ she said.

Violet looked at her.

‘Gordon hates me dieting as well.’

Violet shook her head. ‘It’s mad, isn’t it? Surely they should be supportive?’

‘I don’t know what my husband’s problem is,’ said Maggie. ‘Or
how to get round eating the same food as he does.’

‘That’s the easy bit,’ said Violet, bringing out the milk.

Maggie glanced at the plastic bottle and raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought whole milk was banned. Semi-skimmed or skimmed only.’

Violet gave her a small smile. ‘I decant my
semi-skimmed
milk into the whole milk container. Then he doesn’t realise what he’s putting on his cereal and into
our tea and coffee.’

‘My God! That’s brilliant!’ said Maggie. ‘What else?’

‘I’ve been starting to cook healthier versions of our favourite dinners, like spaghetti bolognese. But I’ve been draining the fat off the mince and using low-fat sauces. He hasn’t a clue!’

‘All very cloak and dagger,’ said Maggie. ‘We’ll have to compare notes later.’

They headed back into the lounge and Violet put down
the tray of mugs on to the coffee tables.

‘I’m sorry but I’m going to have to use your bathroom,’ Maggie told Violet. ‘I’ve never weed so much in my life. It must be all water that’s dropping off me. Five pounds this week!’

She did a little jig and then stopped before breaking into a giggle. ‘I don’t want to scare the neighbours into thinking there’s an earthquake.’

Maggie knew it was the combination
of exercise and healthy food that was working for her. She was using the exercise DVD every day but was beginning to find it a little monotonous. So she was also heading out every afternoon for a walk. She had even bought new trainers, in case she ever felt like jogging. Not that it was very likely, of course.