‘Billy?’ She grasped his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. ‘Billy, it’s time to get up. You’ll miss your train.’
Billy made a show of murmuring before rubbing his eyes and stretching. Clare waited, propped up on her pillows, until Billy had woken fully.
‘Sorry to wake you but you don’t want to get to the station too late. You’ll hardly have time to see your dad if you get a later train.’
‘You’re right. Thanks for waking me.’ Billy shifted into a sitting position, avoiding Clare’s gaze as he knew what was coming next. It was a conversation they’d had plenty of times already.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? It’s about time I met your dad.’ Billy and Clare had been together five months but Billy still felt it was too soon. ‘You’ve met my parents a few times now.’ That was true, even if Billy would have done anything – anything – to avoid seeing them. Visiting parents was all a bit scary and serious for Billy’s liking. What if they thought he was a prick? He was hardly wonderful boyfriend material, was he? He was floppy haired, a bit scruffy and, let’s be honest, a bit of a geek while Clare was none of those things. She deserved somebody better than Billy, somebody better looking and with better prospects. Like that Jared guy Ruth hung around with. He was a proper man, someone who could take care of Clare financially, physically and emotionally.
Billy’s fingers clenched into fists on his lap at the thought of Jared and his good looks, sniffing about the place. Billy was surprised Clare hadn’t dumped him upon sight of pretty Jared and made a play for him herself.
‘You have no problem with Ruth going with you,’ Clare pointed out, dropping her lashes, her mouth turning down at the corners.
‘That’s different. Ruth isn’t my girlfriend. She’s known my dad almost as long as I have. Our dads used to go to the pub together and we were always in each other’s houses as kids.’
‘Exactly. I am your girlfriend. You should want me to meet your dad, to be a part of your life.’ Clare looked at Billy, her green eyes wide and moist. ‘Are you ashamed of me or something?’
‘No. Don’t be daft. Look at you.’ Billy grasped Clare’s hand and swept his fingers along her soft, pink cheek. Jesus, look at her. She was beautiful and angelic. Any man would be proud to show off Clare. It was just… Billy didn’t know what it was holding him back. ‘You’re perfect.’ He kissed her on the lips and felt Clare’s arms wind around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.
‘You know, if I came with you, we could go in the car. We wouldn’t have to wait around for the train. We wouldn’t have to get up just yet.’ Clare bit her bottom lip as she lay back down on the pillows, pulling Billy down with her and how could he refuse?
Billy was a nervous wreck for the duration of the journey to Liverpool, his hands and feet jittery and his mind unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. It was silly to be so nervous and he really had nothing to fear. Clare was perfect and his dad would be so pleased that Billy had a girlfriend, in much the same way Billy had been pleased when Brian met Pearl. The stuffing had been knocked out of Brian when his wife passed away, but Pearl brought him back to life. Billy got on well with his stepmother and was glad his father finally had someone to share his life with again. His dad deserved to be happy and Billy knew it didn’t mean he’d forgotten about Patricia or stopped caring.
‘They are expecting me, aren’t they?’ Clare asked as they pulled up outside Brian and Pearl’s little terraced house. She cut off the engine and clasped her hands on her lap without removing her seat belt and Billy realised she was nervous too. She was just better at hiding it than him, the first signs only seeping out now.
‘I phoned them when you were in the shower.’ Billy unclasped his own seat belt and then Clare’s. ‘Come on, I bet Pearl’s got the kettle on already.’ He gave Clare’s hand a squeeze before they climbed out of the car and made their way to the house. Pearl answered the door, beaming down at them.
‘Clare! How lovely to finally meet you. Billy never shuts up about you so I feel like I already know you.’ She enveloped Clare in a brief hug before ushering her into the house, shooting Billy a wink. Billy hadn’t mentioned any hint of a girl until that morning. ‘The kettle’s on, so sit down and I’ll make us all a nice brew. Your dad’s out in his greenhouse as usual but I’ll give him a shout. He’s looking forward to meeting Clare.’ Pearl hesitated on the threshold, watching Clare as though she may have been a figment of her imagination. Then, realising what she was doing, she flashed a smile before darting into the kitchen.
‘Is this where you grew up?’ Clare glanced around the small but cosy sitting room, photos of a younger Billy framed on the walls.
‘No, I grew up in Oldham. Dad moved here with Pearl when they got married. I think there were too many memories back home for Dad. He’s more settled here now.’
Clare leant across to kiss Billy’s cheek, to offer some little comfort. She couldn’t imagine losing a parent, especially so young.
‘Hey, I’ll have no canoodling on my sofa.’ Brian strode into the sitting room, wiping his hands on a tea towel, a grin filling his whole face. ‘You must be Clare.’ He leant down to peck her on the cheek before settling himself in an armchair. ‘It’s very strange for Billy to bring a girl to meet his old dad. He usually only brings our Ruth with him.’
‘Don’t tease the boy, Brian.’ Pearl bustled into the room, a tea tray in her hands, which she set down on the coffee table before sitting down in an empty armchair.
‘I’m not teasing. Just saying.’
‘Well don’t.’ Pearl shook her head at her husband before turning to Clare, asking her a million questions and listening intently to the answers. Billy learned more about Clare over his cup of coffee and a plate of jammy dodgers than he had during their five months together.
‘I’ve got a lovely piece of beef in the oven for lunch,’ Pearl said after draining her cup of tea. She bit her lip. ‘You’re not vegetarian, are you?’
‘No, I’m not vegetarian.’
‘Good. It’s all a load of nonsense if you ask me. I’ll just go and check on the potatoes.’ Pearl heaved herself out of the armchair and disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Speaking of nonsense, how’s Ruth getting on with those silly diets of hers?’ Brian asked Billy. ‘Still eating cabbage, is she?’
‘She’s not doing the diets any more. Not the daft ones anyway. She’s trying to eat more healthily and cut down, and she’s been going to the gym a lot. She’s doing really well, isn’t she, Clare?’ Clare nodded and was about to say something, but Billy hadn’t finished. ‘She’s looking really well too. She’s got a bit of a glow now and you can tell she’s happier than she has been in a long time.’
‘Good, I’m glad. She’s a lovely girl, our Ruth. Is she courting?’
Billy shook his head. ‘Not that I know of.’
‘What about Jared? They’re always together and she never shuts up about him.’
Billy gave Clare a funny look. ‘Jared’s gay. Ruth said so.’ And it had been a relief to hear it.
Clare gave a hoot. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at her?’ No, Billy hadn’t noticed anything peculiar about the way Jared looked at Ruth. ‘He’s smitten. And I’d say she is too.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Billy began to roll his eyes but paused midway. What if Jared wasn’t gay? He did spend an awful lot of time with Ruth. Perhaps he saw her as more than just a friend. Did Ruth realise? Billy wasn’t sure but he wasn’t about to go sticking his beak in, just in case Clare had got the wrong end of the stick.
‘You young ones don’t half complicate things,’ Brian said with a shake of his head. In his day, if you liked a girl you let her know. You didn’t go around pretending to bat for the other side or shove your feelings away and out of sight.
Pearl poked her head around the door. ‘Lunch will be ready in a couple of minutes. Do you want to come through?’
The
four squeezed around the small round table in the kitchen, the plates in front of them piled with beef and the potatoes and vegetables from Brian’s greenhouse, all smothered in thick gravy. Billy’s dad had survived on microwave meals, pot noodles and the odd portion of fish and chips before he met Pearl. He’d attempted to cook when Billy was younger but, with Brian having to work long hours to provide for them, Billy spent most of his time at the Lynch household where he was fed food that hadn’t been reduced to lumps of charcoal.
‘This is grand, love,’ Brian said, tucking in with gusto.
‘Yeah, it’s lovely.’ Billy matched his father’s enthusiasm. He may have had a weedy frame, but he could put away food like the rest of them. When he was little, his mother used to joke that his food was stored down in his toes to make room for more.
‘There’s plenty of beef left. You’ll have to take some home with you. Ruth loves my beef sandwiches. She’s not still on those silly diets, is she?’
‘Nope but she’s been spending her time at the gym,’ Brian answered.
‘The gym, eh? Has she got her eye on a fella then?’ Pearl giggled. ‘It’s about time the girl found herself someone decent. Wish her luck from me, won’t you, Billy?’
‘I don’t think she’s got her eye on anybody specific.’
Clare immediately thought of Jared but she kept quiet this time. Billy didn’t want to believe Ruth fancied Jared and Clare was afraid to push him, afraid it would open up a Pandora’s box of trouble.
To: s.lynch
From: billy.worth
Subject: Meet The Parents
I finally did it. I introduced Clare to Dad and Pearl. It went well. I think.
To: billy.worth
From: s.lynch
Subject: Re: Meet The Parents
Good on you. It’ll be me meeting her next. Only a few more weeks until I’ll be home for the reunion. I’ll be able to show Clare where all the embarrassing stories I have up my sleeve took place. I think I’ll start with you being caught behind the stage curtains with your hand up Lisa Piper’s blouse…
To: s.lynch
From: billy.worth
Subject: Re: Re: Meet The Parents
You’re only jealous because you fancied Lisa Piper as well.
Anyway, Clare isn’t coming to the reunion. I only have one ticket and I think it’s too late to buy another.
THIRTY-TWO
Ruth
The room began to empty, towels flipped over shoulders, mats rolled up and tucked under arms, chatter and laughter fading as I was left on my own, slumped on my mat, too weak to open my eyes, let alone drag myself to my feet. They wouldn’t have kept me up anyway, my body too exhausted by the exercise programme I’d devised for myself over the past few weeks. In desperation and with time stampeding away, I’d made a last-ditch attempt to lose weight, packing my days with classes and time in the women’s gym. I’d tried everything from Legs, Bums and Tums, Total Tone, and step classes to aqua aerobics with the irritating Tahlia and I even returned for a tortuous spinning class. So desperate was I to shed a few more pounds, I’d even taken to using the pool during general hours, swimming for an hour each morning before work. Luckily it was usually just me and Jared and a couple of hard core fitness freaks, who were more interested in their breathing techniques than my fat arse squeezed into a swimming costume. And speaking of mortification, I’d also taken part in a street dance class with Courtney. My cheeks burned remembering my flailing arms and legs moving to a different rhythm to everybody else, even now, as I slumped on the floor, unable to coerce my muscles into attempting to work.
The lights were switched off as I lay on my mat but I didn’t care. I’d sleep on the floor and resume my crazy exercise regime in the morning. I’d swim with Jared first thing, fit in half an hour on the treadmill if there was time and dash back over at lunchtime. After work I’d use the women’s gym, pushing myself until I could no longer blink, before Jared dropped me off at home. And then I’d sneak back for a class on my own in the evening. Jared didn’t know I took an extra class in the evenings as he was concerned I was pushing myself too much already. And he was probably right. Everywhere ached from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning until I collapsed on the bed at night, grateful for rest at last. But then my dreams were plagued by dumbbells and spinning bikes and horrific dance classes and my mind ached along with my body. The only thing keeping me going was the thought of Zack’s mocking face when I turned up at the reunion still fat. I couldn’t. I had to keep going, to lose the weight, any weight. I no longer had The Dress as motivation and the grief I’d felt as I’d passed the boutique’s window and found a different dress on the mannequin was still with me.
I’d flown into the boutique that day, the first time I had dared to cross the threshold. It was a tiny shop with only a couple of rails of clothing, another mannequin beside a blue curtained changing room and a cash register squeezed into the corner. The owner noticed me straight away – how could she miss the woman who was taking up her entire shop? She was pencil thin with shiny auburn hair and dark eyes that narrowed when she saw me.
‘Can I help you?’ Her voice was incredulous. How could she help me? I thought she was about to start wafting her hands, shooing me out of her shop, reserving her precious space for the thin and beautiful.
‘You had a dress in the window. A pink one with beading but it’s not there any more.’
The owner flicked her head, more of a tic than a nod. ‘It was sold this afternoon.’
It was as I feared and I felt my stomach – along with all my hopes and dreams – plummet to the tiled floor. ‘Do you have another?’
The owner pursed her lips, deciding whether it was worth explaining or if it was easier and kinder all round if she simply ejected me from her shop. ‘I create one-off garments.’ She looked me up and down, thinking it wouldn’t have fit me anyway. And she was right – it wouldn’t have, but while it was in the window, the dream was still burning inside, urging me on. ‘Besides, I don’t think my designs fit in with your style, do they?’ She attempted a smile but couldn’t stop it turning into a sneer as she strode towards the door, opening it as wide as possible to allow me to thump my way back out into the street.
So The Dress was gone and for a few minutes so was my motivation. What was the point? Who was I kidding? I was never going to be thin enough to change Zack’s opinion of me. I imagined the disgust pass across his face as I stepped into the room, followed by sneering and the jibes of old. He wouldn’t be taken aback and ashamed of his actions. He’d probably still think it was funny.
And that’s when the anger began to build up, a tight ball in the pit of my stomach spreading its branches throughout my body, taking hold of my muscles and forcing them into action. I wouldn’t let him win. I wouldn’t. He’d reduced me to nothing but a blubbering wreck the last time I saw him but he wouldn’t do that to me again. I was better than that. I was better than Zack.
I turned away from the boutique, feeling the owner’s eyes on me as I began to walk away. The anger inside stretched and I felt my pace picking up, my breath becoming haggard as my legs powered their way home. My chest and the back of my throat burned, but still on I went, faster and faster until somewhere along the way I began to jog. On and on I jogged, my body working on autopilot as my mind wondered what the fuck my legs thought they were up to. I reached Oak Road and instead of slowing down, my feet were spurred on and I found myself running, actually running, every part of my body screaming for mercy yet refusing to give up. I barrelled into the front door, my legs working quicker than my fumbling fingers as they attempted to slot my key into the door. Stumbling into the hallway, I collapsed on the bottom step, head hung low as I took in sharp breath after sharp breath, fighting the urge to throw up all over the hallway carpet.
I’d done it. I’d pushed myself more than I ever thought possible and, though I felt like shit at that moment, I’d survived. The nausea and exhaustion subsided, making way for euphoria. I’d
survived! I could do this. I could push myself more and more. I could lose the weight. Perhaps not as much as I’d originally planned but I could lose something. I could feel good about myself as I walked into that reunion, head held high, mocking faces passing me by unnoticed.
And that’s when the crazy schedule began.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.’ The Pilates instructor flicked the lights on and wandered back into the room. ‘Are you ok?’ She towered above me as I lay slumped on my mat, willing my body to move. I’d assumed Pilates would be similar to yoga, which was by far my favourite class at the gym, but I was wrong. Pilates was an exercise plan devised by Lucifer himself and I didn’t think my stomach muscles would ever stop hurting.
‘It’s Ruth, isn’t it?’ The instructor dropped to her knees and I managed a nod. ‘Do you need a hand?’
The humiliation of being yanked to my feet by the instructor, who probably thought I was too fat and lazy to stand up, was enough to release the reserves of energy I’d secretly stored up and I inched myself up onto my hands and knees, eventually rising to my feet.
‘I’m ok. Thank you.’
The instructor cocked her head to one side. ‘You look exhausted.’
Did I? That’s funny because I felt exhausted too. My body was utterly spent. But more than that, I was devastated. I’d worked so hard over the past few weeks since the disappearance of The Dress and it hadn’t been good enough. The reunion was just over a week away and I’d only managed to drop one dress size. I should have been celebrating my triumph, but it was nowhere near enough. I’d failed miserably, despite my efforts. I thought back over all those diets, the salads and the cabbage soup, and the humiliation of wearing a swimming costume in public for the first time since I was a teenager. Had it all been worth it?
A Beginner's Guide To Salad Page 21
