Thin Girls Don't Eat Cake (8 page)

“An old lady was cleaning the windows earlier. Apart from that, I haven’t seen a soul come in or out.” I tweaked the position of a couple of the dog cushions in the new display and stood to survey the look.

“I wonder if they’ll be selling other types of cakes?”

“I don’t really care.”

“God, you’re such a liar.”

“No. It’s true. As of today, I do not care about cake. I’m joining Weight Watchers. The only thing I shall care about is lettuce and grilled fish.”

“You make it sound like torture.”

Well, it was. For me, anyway.

After buckling Ethan in, Alice pushed the stroller back and forth with her foot. “Do you want to come for tea tonight? Jed’s off out somewhere and we haven’t had a catch up for days. I’ll whip us up something diet conscious.”

I made a face. “I can’t. I have the Weight Watchers meeting and I don’t know how long it will take.”

Alice gave me the look, the one that always pulled me into gear. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Being negative about stuff before you’ve given it a go. Getting fit and trim isn’t going to happen if you walk around like Negative Nellie. You have to embrace the new lifestyle, see the positive side.”

Easy for her to say. The only thing I wanted to embrace was an enormous icing covered cupcake. Despite the fact that I’d said I didn’t care about cake anymore, I’d been having cravings for one since I’d seen those fake sprinkles over the cupcake shop. Or maybe two. Or three.

“So, will you come after your meeting?”

“Okay. It’s a date.”

At that moment, the door of the shop opened and Cole entered, pausing just inside the doorway. He seemed somewhat taken aback to find me standing in front of him. Like he’d seen a ghost or had déjà vu or something. He wasn’t as surprised as me though. He was wearing a pair of navy shorts with a rip right up the crotch. I could see his red undies quite clearly.

“Hey Cole,” I said.

My, but he had lovely shoulders.

In the kerfuffle of the other evening, I hadn’t even noticed.

“Olivia. Hi. I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I own Doggie Divas,” I said proudly, “Is there something I can help you with?”

I had no idea whether Cole owned a dog but I was positive if he did, it wouldn’t be the type to go to a grooming parlour. Cole was way too manly for a dog that needed designer shampoo. His dog would be large and shorthaired, like a Rottweiler or a Pointer or something.

“Adelaide misplaced Lulu’s diamante collar again. I was wondering if you had any in stock? That damned dog will be the death of me with the silly outfits she dresses it in.” He shook his head, obviously confused as to why a woman felt the need to dress a puppy like a child.

“Lulu’s your dog?”

“She’s Adelaide’s. Somehow, I get stuck with the bills every time another piece of her wardrobe goes missing. I didn’t think buying her the bloody dog meant I was responsible for its upkeep too.”

I limped over to the wall display that held the collars, picking up a pink bejewelled collar. “This is similar to the one Lulu had on when I clipped her.”

“That’s exactly what I’m looking for, though why she needs it, I don’t know. What happened to the good old leather collar with a circular metal tag?”

“A dog like Lulu could never wear a collar like that. She needs to be shown off.”

“Don’t I know it? She’s Adelaide’s pride and joy.” He picked up a baby pink dog coat, handing it to me. “I’ll take this too. It’s cold here, a lot colder than Perth. Lulu’s been shivering in the mornings.”

Sounded like Cole loved Lulu as much as Adelaide.

Having made our way back to the counter, Cole fished some notes from his wallet.

“So, about that secret door,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to pop by the house and show me where it is? If you’re up to it, that is. You’ve got me intrigued.”

I turned excitedly to Alice. “Alice, this is Cole. He owns Oak Hill. I was telling him about that room we used to play in when we were little.”

A smile lit up Alice’s face. “I’d totally forgotten about that. We used to have so much fun there. Do you remember the day we locked my sister out because she was being annoying and she told on us? When Mum and her came back they couldn’t find the door. Mum thought she was playing a trick and smacked her.”

“I think it was the only time she’s gotten into trouble in her entire life.”

Alice addressed Cole. “So, you’re the one who bought the old house, then?”

“Yep.”

“Lot of work?”

“Heaps. I’ve got a thing about old houses. Before I moved here I used to renovate them and sell them on.”

“There are plenty of old houses in Merrifield. You should get Olivia to show you around her family home. It’s similar to yours. Built in the same period. No secret rooms though.”

“I’d love that. I’m looking for ideas for Oak Hill.”

“And how did you two meet?” Alice enquired, looking at us both.

“At Zumba,” I answered. “Cole fell over me. Then he gave me a lift. Literally."

“That’s rather chivalrous.”

I saw Alice’s eyebrows rise slightly. I knew full well what she was thinking but decided it was better that I ignore it so I put the collar and coat into a small brown paper shopping bag and handed it to Cole. “There you go. Jewels fit for a princess.”

"Thanks. I'd better get going. Tons to do. How’s Saturday week for you? You know, to come up to the house? I can pick you up if you can’t drive."

“Great. I’ve got a few clients in the morning but I’ll be finished around one.”

"I’ll swing by then."

I smiled up into his friendly eyes. They were quite fetching. I hadn’t noticed them the night we met, either. Which proves the point that I should have paid more attention to the goings on around me instead of whining about how big my bottom was. In my defence though, it had been dark.

As the door clicked closed behind Cole, Alice flicked me on the arm. “Okay. Spill. Where did you find that dish?"

For some strange reason I could feel a blush coming over me. It wasn’t in my nature to blush yet every time I thought of Cole it seemed to be happening. "I told you. He fell on top of me."

“I wouldn’t mind if he fell on me. He’s yummy. Did you see his eyes? God.”

“You’re a married woman.”

“You know what I mean. And he likes you, it was so obvious.”

“Don’t be silly. Didn’t you hear him? He’s with that girl Adelaide. And if you’d seen her, you’d know there’d be Buckley’s chance he’d ever look at me even if he were single. She’s like a supermodel.”

“Not every bloke wants a supermodel for a girlfriend.”

Not many of them wanted a girl who looked like a donut either.

The lights of the community hall shone out into the car park and as I hobbled up the gravel path to the beginning of my new life, I was overcome with two feelings — one of insurmountable shame that others were going to see my weight and comment on it and the other of excitement. I’d decided on this course and, despite my hesitance, I was keen to begin. Even if it did mean stepping onto a set of scales in public.

As I walked in the door, I was greeted by a line of women longer than the queue to the Boxing Day sales. Happily chattering as they waited, they paid no attention when I got in the back of the line, which made me feel more at ease. I stood listening, slowly moving up and into the room along with the line. The general conversation seemed to be about how their weight loss efforts were coming along, the new products on offer and if it were possible to eat an entire block of Cadbury and stay within your points allocation for the day. Over to the side of the line, I spied a long trestle table that bore a blue and green smiley-faced sign saying ‘new members’. Taking a deep steeling breath, I hopped out of the queue and headed in that direction.

A jolly looking woman with a huge white sticky name badge sat behind the table. She didn’t look anything like someone who watched her weight. There wasn’t an ounce of excess body fat on her. Well, apart from her boobs, which were gi-normous — an underestimation of their size, to put it mildly.

“Welcome.”

“I’d like to join Weight Watchers, please,” I said as quietly as I possibly could, even though I had no idea why I was being so secretive about it when everyone in the room was there for the same reason.

“Fabulous!”

She was bubbly, so bubbly, in fact, I thought she might almost fizz over with enthusiasm. I hoped everyone else wasn’t going to be like this. I didn’t know if I could stand such a degree of animation after a long day at work. The woman took my credit card details and began to put my information onto a membership card, which she handed to me, punctuated with an affirming nod. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

And what exactly did that mean? That I looked like the rest of the women here? Honestly, one of them would have needed two chairs to hold her bottom if she sat down. I certainly wasn’t that fat. I only had a few kilos to lose.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You obviously want to make some changes or you wouldn’t be here,” she clarified. “And this is the place to do that.”

“Oh. Yes. Right.”

And clearly, I’d arrived in the nick of time, too. I was beginning to think like one of those paranoid people who thought everyone was having a go at them.

“You need to pop in the queue now,” she said, “and get your height and weight noted.”

My heart palpitated at the thought. And it wasn’t in a good way.

“It’s okay love. Everyone’s been there. The first week is the worst. After that, it’s a breeze, and such a lot of fun to share your successes with the group.”

“I have to talk?”

I knew this had been a bad idea, a really bad idea. Standing before a camera, when I’d been the size of a stick was one thing, but exposing myself in a room full of strangers was not on. I was there to lose weight, not get therapy. Though I’d often wondered if I might need a bit of that too.

The woman behind the desk gave me an understanding look. “Not right away. In fact, if you don’t feel comfortable speaking, you can simply listen. Some people never say a word the whole time they’re here.”

I felt the tension leaving my body, like air from a deflating soufflé.

Following the pointed finger, I got myself into the queue of women — far smaller than twenty minutes before — and waited my turn. I noted the looks of glee and a few of despair as they stepped on the scales and their loss or otherwise was revealed. One woman whooped for joy, the next in line was not so happy. It had been a bad week for her. One that involved large tubs of Baskin and Robbins ice cream and entire packets of Weight Watchers Chocolate Éclairs.

The mention of those two words made me gasp inwardly. Chocolate Éclairs? How was it possible to be able to eat éclairs and be on a diet? Hadn’t these people seen the éclairs at Maggie’s? They were the reason I was in this predicament to begin with. Well that, and the fact that my willpower had left me the day I found out Graeme had been playing me for the fool. It was weaker than a cup of that disgusting tea Mum kept plying me with when I went to her place and even if I did manage to employ its use on the odd occasion, things always went belly-up within hours. There was no point fighting the cravings, it only made them stronger.

But that didn’t mean I was giving up.

Soon, it was my turn on the scale. With a lump of nausea the size of a tennis ball in my throat and my head to the floor in fear of being recognised, I handed my shiny new membership card to a second person recording the weigh-ins whose voice sounded way too familiar. I glanced up through my eyelashes.

Oh. My. God.

NO.

It was Mrs Tanner.

Overcome with shock — which seemed to be the recurring theme for the evening — I swallowed and raced towards the scales, hoping to avoid her gaze and praying she wouldn’t recognise me without her glasses. It was embarrassing enough being there without people knowing I was. Which everyone would by about 9pm, if Mrs Tanner realised it was my membership card she was stamping.

“Hello, love. Fancy seeing you here.”

Great.

“Uh, hi, Mrs Tanner.”

“I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Probably because she was always on the phone spreading gossip.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

“Come to get fit and healthy, have we?”

“Something like that.”

“You haven’t been doing anymore of that hypnosis have you?”

“No.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Mrs Tanner moved from behind the table to stand next to the scales. I slipped off my thongs and using the other woman as a brace jumped onto the scale balancing on one foot.

“You won’t know yourself after a couple of weeks. This Weight Watchers malarkey is for the birds.”

I had no idea how to reply or what that even meant.

“Erm. Ah, yes.”

Mrs Tanner fiddled with something on the scales. “I mean look at me. I used to be a heifer, no two ways about it. Now I could give that Miranda Kerr a run for her money.”

I wasn’t too sure about that. The new Mrs Tanner might be thinner but she was definitely on the wrong side of fifty and had wrinkles on her face the depth of arctic crevices from years of smoking. Suppressing a smile, I glanced at my weight, now winking at me from the scales.

That couldn’t be true. There had to be some mistake.

Ninety. Point. Five. Kilos.

I blinked and blinked. I rubbed my hand over my eyes and squinted, hoping the blurring would change the numbers. I believe I repeated the process quite a few times before I slowly raised my eyes to Mrs Tanner. There I saw a faintly concealed look of shock, or perhaps it was disbelief, pass over her face. It couldn’t be true. Any second now, Mrs Tanner was going to tell me I should hop off and on again because scales were playing up a bit tonight. Or the excess amount of fluid in my sore foot could account for a good ten kilos? That could happen, right?

But no, she simply smiled, handed back my card and remarked that the hardest part of the journey was over.

Engulfed in the mortification of actually being fat enough to register for the next season of The Biggest Loser, I slid sadly into my thongs and slunk to the meeting area where I sat in my seat. It wouldn’t do to plonk myself down too hard. At ninety kilos I was likely to break the thing.

The meeting began. I couldn’t concentrate, even though I was quite interested in tips for eating out and staying within your points. How had I let this happen? It was going to take a good deal more than a few magic points and a bit of huffing at the gym to remove that amount of blubber. No wonder Connor had complained. No wonder I couldn’t fit into my jeans. I was fat.

And God, I really needed a peppermint slice.

*****

“You will not believe how humiliating that was,” I moaned as I limped into Alice’s kitchen an hour or so later and flopped down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Ninety kilos, Alice. I weigh ninety kilos! Everyone was judging me. I could see them.”

“I’m sure they weren’t,” Alice said. “There’s a lot of women in town fatter than you. Shannon-down-from-Perth has whacked it on in the last month or so, poor thing. She couldn’t even touch her toes at Boot Camp the other morning. I thought she was going to have a heart attack after pulling the tyres through the mud. Surely, you wouldn’t tip the scales heavier than her?”

“I know you’re trying to make me feel better but how fat I am in relation to the rest of the town is not the point. The point is, I don’t think I can go back. Not after tonight.”

“Why?” Alice headed for the pantry, where she had a bottle of red already uncorked. “Wine?”

I nodded.

“Mrs Tanner’s the weigh-in lady. Everyone in Western Australia will know how fat I am by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure she’ll be discreet. It is Weight Watchers.”

“She told the whole street about the boil Mr. Evans from the school had on his bum. I have no idea how she even knew about it and I certainly didn’t want to know what they did to drain it. But she told me anyway.”

“
Eww
.”

“Exactly. So can you imagine her keeping my weight to herself?  Anyway, I don’t think I’d be welcome.”

Alice’s look was quizzical. “Why?”

“I was so embarrassed after seeing Mrs Tanner, I decided to avoid all eye contact with the rest of the group. I walked straight into the table that holds the merchandise as I was leaving.”

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Alice picked a couple of nuts out of the bowl she’d put between us and popped them in her mouth.

“The table collapsed and the membership cards went sliding under the podium. Those bottles you put olive oil so you can use it like cooking spray smashed all over the floor. I thought Mrs Tanner was going to hit me with one of those recipe books they try to flog you. Plus, I had to buy an entire carton of Weight Watchers cookies because they were damaged. What am I meant to do with them?”

“Eat them?” Alice didn’t attempt to conceal her giggle.

I glowered at her. “You know, if I weren’t feeling so sorry for myself I’d hop over the bench and pop you one. You’re meant to be supporting my attempt to lose weight, not taking the piss.”

“You know I support you. I think it would’ve looked hysterical, that’s all.”

I gave a weak smile. “It was pretty funny. Mrs Tanner’s face went this funny shade of purple. It was like her blood was stuck inside her skull or something.”

Alice placed two glasses on the island bench. “Here. Drown your sorrows.”

“Bottoms up.”

“Not for long. In a few weeks we won’t even be able to see yours.”

Taking a sip of my wine, I glanced around the room. Alice had done a fabulous job with the decorating. She had a knack of knowing how to put bits and bobs together to make them look good. When I tried to reproduce her ideas, it ended up looking, well, like bits and bobs made by people with very poor decorating skills or a garage sale that hadn’t been packed away.

“When did you get the painting finished?”

“The other night while Ethan was in bed.”

“It looks fab. Did Jed give you a hand?”

“He was out.” Alice was facing the oven pulling a tray from middle rack, but I saw her body stiffen.

“Smells good. What’re we having?”

“Baked lemon snapper. The fish was on special at the supermarket. Oh, and salad things from the veggie garden. I cooked some potatoes too.”

She tipped a pile of teeny round new potatoes into a strainer and tossed them in a knob of butter, fresh parsley and ground rock salt. She served the fish and potato onto three plates, covered Jed’s with reused silver foil from the drawer and put it into the turned off oven to keep warm for later. Then she hopped up opposite me and took a huge swig from her wine glass before setting about cutting her fish.

“Boy, that goes down well. I’d had a shit of a day. I think Ethan’s teething. He whined the whole way to the shops and back.” She refilled her wineglass before stabbing a large portion of salad and shoving it into her mouth.

“He seemed okay for the few minutes I had him.”

“It’s those rusks. He adores them.”  Her voice choked and I was positive I saw her blinking away a tear from the corner of my eye.

I put down my cutlery and swivelled to face Alice. She wasn’t herself. It wasn’t like her to become upset over a little thing like teething. Alice was always so calm and collected. That was one of the things I loved about her. When I was having a meltdown over how my life was panning out, Alice always had a solution. She was the voice in my head, the pragmatic, practical one.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Refusing to meet my eyes, Alice stuffed a baby potato into her mouth and swallowed it whole while poking at her fish and swearing because she couldn’t get it to stay on her fork. “How’s your fish?”