Thin Girls Don't Eat Cake

by Lindy Dale

  Olivia rolled her eyes.

  “I mean it,” he reiterated. “You need to keep it elevated, not go jumping around at an exercise class.” For some reason his gaze was directed at Cole.

  “How long for?”

  “Three or four weeks, I’d say. We’ll review it when you come to the surgery.”

  “Cool.”

  “And take the painkillers.” He reached down, handing her a box she’d left on the bed. “You’re going to need them for a couple of days.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  Cole stood, pulling the door open and gesturing for Olivia to go first. She hopped gingerly through, attempting to manoeuvre the crutches without knocking into things, specifically Cole’s leg and then a chair.

  “You okay?” he asked, as they walked.

  “Yep. I’ve cracked a bone in my foot, that’s all.”

  “No plaster?”

  “It’s not bad enough for that, just enough to hurt like crazy.” She gave a wan smile.

  “You don’t need me to carry you again?”

  “Definitely not. I think we’ve both had enough torture for tonight.”

  It was no hardship to Cole. As he’d already told her, he’d carry her to Antarctica and back if he had to, though why he felt this way about a girl he barely knew, he had no clue. He suspected her smile had a lot to do with it. Smiles were highly underrated in his book.

  It was pitch dark outside the hospital and the walk to the car was slow, slower than when Olivia had been attempting to hobble into the hospital under her own steam. As they trudged along the path, Cole’s bare legs brushed against sprigs of lavender and the scent wafted into the air around them. Up in the sky, the moon was hiding behind a large bank of clouds, which made seeing more difficult. Luckily, Cole had always had good night vision. He wouldn’t want another accident. Though having Olivia fall into his arms again wouldn’t have been a complete disaster.

  “So you know that doctor bloke then?”

  “Intimately.” Olivia glanced in Cole’s direction. Was she trying to make him jealous? If so, it was working.

  “Sean and I grew up together,” she explained. “We used to get up to all sorts.”

  Cole wasn’t sure he wanted to know what ‘all sorts’ entailed.

  “Right.”

  “Kid stuff mostly,” she went on. “He’s certainly changed a lot since I saw him last.”

  There was that stabbing feeling again. It was damn hard to hold a conversation with it assaulting his chest.

  “People tend to do that when they get older.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  They reached the car and Cole opened the door, settling Olivia into the car. Then, he hopped into his seat and turned the ignition on. The car purred to life.

  “Thanks again for helping me, Cole. It’s kind of you.”

  “I’d say I’ll see you at Zumba but I guess you won’t be there for a few weeks.”

  “Not unless I master the art of dancing on crutches between now and next Monday.”

  Chapter 9

  “What on Earth have you done this time?” Mum looked down at my swollen foot, her face a mixture of horror and utter disbelief.

  “I fell over at Zumba.”

  “Elaine Tanner said you threw yourself at some man and he had to carry you to the car. You can’t go about the town behaving like that. People will think you’re desperate.”

  It was lucky Mum was bending into her gym bag as she said it. At least she couldn’t see me giving her the rude finger and rolling my eyes.

  I wasn’t in the mood to argue logistics that morning. My foot hurt like the clappers and even though I was sitting with it elevated as much as I could, I still had to work. Self-grooming dogs had not yet been invented. Likewise, sick pay for self-employed people. I couldn’t afford to close the shop for a couple of weeks.

  “I didn’t throw myself at him and I’m not desperate, mother. I tripped.”

  “But you let him drive you to the hospital? That was a wise move.”

  How did I tell her it wasn’t a ‘move’, that I wasn’t in the throes of executing Operation Get Cole?

  “I heard he’s quite the bees-knees,” Mum said.

  “He is handsome.”

  “And how’s Sean? When did he get back? Is he going to Shannon-down-from-Perth’s birthday?”

  “Yeah. I rang and asked him this morning. I don’t think it’s breaking any sort of doctor-patient thing if I do that, is it? I mean, he’s like a family member.”

  “Of course not. You’ve known him since you were both in nappies. What are you going to wear?”

  “My choices are limited with this big balloon on the end of my foot, so I’m thinking a dress of some sort, or maybe those loose fitting pants. You know, the black ones.”

  “Don’t forget your Spanx. Now that you have a man on the hook, you want to be looking your best.”

  Oh for pity’s sake. She made it sound like I was going on fifty with buckteeth and five chins.

  “It’s Sean, Mum. Nobody is on the hook.”

  Though the way Sean had grown into his body, I wouldn’t have minded if he were on the hook. The man version of Sean was a far cry from the teenager who never washed his hair I used to hang out with.

  “And don’t forget to slap on a bit of that bronzer I bought you. You’re looking so pale lately. This being indoors business can’t be good for you. You need fresh air. You’re probably lacking in vitamin D.”

  Either that or I was secretly a vampire.

  I hobbled to the door, ushering Mum out with a kiss. “Right, well, I must be going. I’ve clients coming in a minute and I’m sure you’ve got heaps to do.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes. Now go.”

  Mum stopped, one foot out the door. “When do you dispense with the crutches?”

  “A few weeks, I think.”

  “That’s too bad. They’re a great way to attract male attention.”

  A slightly desperate option I hadn’t sunk to considering yet.

  “Hmm.”

  “Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about rescheduling our family dinner for the minute. I’ve decided to sign up for the full yoga course. It was so much fun.”

  I had no idea what yoga had to do with attracting attention and I wasn’t going to ask. “But we have a standing arrangement. I plan my week around our dinners.”

  “It’s not like I’m moving to the other side of the world, Olivia. We see each other nearly every day. I do have a life, you know.”

  “You seem to be having more of a life than me.”

  “Yes, well maybe Sean can sort that out for you. I’ve always found the medical profession to be quite social.”

  What on earth was she on about?

  “So, how about we move the dinner to Mondays?”

  I didn’t want to tell her Monday was Game of Thrones night. That would make me sound like I had no life. “Sure. Monday’s cool.”

  As Mum said her goodbyes and closed the door, I hobbled to the grooming room to prepare for my next client. Mum was definitely up to something she didn’t want me to know about. She’d rescheduled the mother-daughter dinner so many times now it was a wonder my calendar hadn’t crashed from over-editing.

  *****

  Two hours later, lunch eaten and a doggy mani-pedi completed, I was leaning on the counter, chin resting in my palm. Across the road, a shiny new sign was being hoisted above the veranda of the shop that used to sell shoes. The transformation that had been occurring over the last month appeared almost complete. Shuffling to sit on the stool, I studied the goings on. I should have been working but, at that minute, the happenings on the other side of the street were far more intriguing than dog collars and hypoallergenic pet beds.

  As I watched, two men climbed joint ladders in perfect synchronisation; their bum cracks visible above their work pants. A third stood in the middle of the street moving his hands left and right, directing them
to the correct positioning. I tilted my head to get a better view. The stomach of one of the men was obscuring the end of the sign and I couldn’t get a good look at it but even from where I sat I could imagine what the rest of it said. Imagine and cringe.

  Death By C…

  By now the sign was dangling in its intended position. I could see the entire thing, complete with cupcake logo. It was a swanky sort of sign: pink, silver and glittery. Very girly. It matched the now revealed tarted-up facade perfectly, right down to the silver sprinkles over the top of the cupcakes around the door. And, if the façade hadn’t caused enough of a stir amongst the locals already, the finishing touches certainly would. People would be talking about it for months. Merrifield wasn’t used to such overt displays of theatricality. The theatrical society was kept well within the confines of the playhouse.

  As new façade came to life, I discovered I wasn’t the only one with a newfound interest in architecture. Shop owners up and down the street were coming out of their shops. Some stood in doorways, blocking customers. Others were so blatant they went right onto the footpath to stare and two men who looked a lot like reporters were taking photos. Five minutes previous, Jim from the butcher’s had been heard to say he couldn’t give a pork chop about the goings on in the new shop next door to his. Jane from Your Dream Kitchen, on the other side, hadn’t given two hoots either. She’d passed by that neglected space every morning without a second glance.

  Not now.

  Now, she and Jim, disturbed by the hammering and clattering, were standing gob-smacked in front of my window, as if they’d never seen a pink glittered shop in their lives. Which they probably hadn’t.

  “Who d’ya reckon owns that monstrosity?” Jim yelled at Jane, his voice hardly audible over the sound of the electric drills. His hearing wasn’t the best either so he tended to yell in every circumstance.

  Jane shrugged, yelling back. “Must be female. A guy would never have a pink shop.”

  “Probably one of those cooking shows’ winners. Or maybe one of those effeminate types?” Jim glanced upwards to where the workmen were grunting under the weight of the sign. “Who else would decorate the front of a shop like that? Bloody lunatics.”

  With a huff he went back into his butcher shop, leaving Jane alone to ponder the fact.

  By then, I had completely lost the will to work, so I slid the pricing gun across the counter out of view and hobbled to the display window for a closer look. The men were lining up the sign with a laser level. They were screwing it in securely and the silver lettering was beckoning. It was practically hypnotic.

  Death By Cupcake: A Sprinkle is all it Takes.

  Catchy name, I thought.

  Trying to look like I wasn’t spying, I hopped to the counter and gathered a couple of the new dog bowls, leads and collars in one hand, tossing them into a cardboard box which I slid towards the display with my good leg. Then, I went back to the display by the window and began to reorganise it in a colour co-ordinated design — the blue accessories together, next the pinks, then the reds. Well, that’s what I told myself I was doing. Actually, I was staring out the window at the cake shop across the road and wondering how many hops on my crutches it would take me to get to the front door.

  I gathered a collection of green accessories and played around until the display looked pretty. Across the road, the scaffolding was being removed and the hessian covering rolled away. A large banner advertising ‘Grand Opening Deals’ on twelve packs of designer cupcakes had been tied between the verandah posts and an elderly, but rather glamorous looking lady had appeared from inside. Armed with a bottle of Windex and a cloth she began to clean the windows, allowing customers a perfect view of the row upon row of delights that were soon to be lined up in glass fronted cases.

  Oh God. It was bad enough having Maggie’s up the road when I was fit but this shop was close enough for the smell of cake to waft across the street. This was my worst Nightmare on Elm Street, except Freddy Krueger was a piece of cake.

  I shook my head in dismay. Clearly, the owners had no idea about the obesity rates in Australia these days. A cupcake shop was the last thing Merrifield needed. Me in particular. The only good thing was, I was so slow now I was on crutches if I did decide to partake the cakes would most likely be sold out by the time I got there.

  While I stood pondering ways to keep myself from the temptation inside that shop Alice came in, pushing a red stroller weighed down with baby Ethan, three recyclable bags of groceries and the many miscellaneous bags she felt necessary to take with her when leaving the house with a small child. She was dressed up a little more than usual, wearing full makeup, a new pair of jeans and heels that were so high it was a wonder she could walk in them. She looked nice but it was a bit over the top for that time of day. Or any time of day. Alice was only known to wear heels at weddings or funerals. Trainers were more her style.

  “What’re you gawking at?” she asked, following my gaze across the street.

  “The new shop over the way. Looks like a cake shop.”

  Alice bumped the door shut with her hip and put the brake on the pram before leaning across the stack of doggie treats on the SALE table to kiss my cheek.

  “Geez, you reckon? A cake shop, eh? Yummy.”

  I glared at her and headed back to the counter.

  “What?” Alice asked, her voice feigning innocence. “I love cake.”

  “Don’t we all. That’s the problem.”

  Alice was one of those annoying friends who managed to lose her baby weight in the first second after giving birth and come home from hospital wearing her skinny jeans. She never had to watch what she ate and had the ability to consume copious amounts of alcohol without gaining a pound. Or getting drunk. I only had to sniff vodka and I was incompetent.

  “I wonder when it’s opening?” she said.

  “Can’t be soon enough for me.”

  Having owned up to the fact that cake was no longer my friend, I was not giving in until my old clothes fit again. And I was certainly not returning those jeans for a bigger size. The hypnotism and Zumba may not have held the answer to my weight problem but that didn’t mean I was giving up. In fact, I fully intended to go to Weight Watchers that very evening. And I was nervous as hell.

  Alice unstrapped the baby from his seat, where he’d begun to fight for freedom. She bounced him on her hip. His chubby fingers wound around the string of her jacket and he grabbed and pulled at it.

  “Ouch! Ethan. Not everyone in the world’s cake-a-phobic. Maybe they’ll have low fat cakes? Here, hold Ethan for a sec.” She prised his little fingers away and handed him to me.

  “Where are you going?” Though it was pointless asking, Alice was already out the door. That was another thing about my friend. You could literally blink and she’d be gone. She was faster than a whippet after a rabbit at times.

  Not bothering to check for traffic, Ethan and I watched as Alice zipped across to the new shop. Her hand cupping the window, she shielded her eyes and looked into the interior of the cupcake shop. I saw her knock and wave to who I presumed were the owners. Then she stepped back and looked up to admire the sign, giving them a thumbs up. I jiggled Ethan who was still attempting to eat his fist and gurgling in satisfaction.

  “What’s your mummy up to then, Ethan?” I asked.

  He didn’t reply. Possibly because he couldn’t talk. He did, however, open his mouth wider allowing a string of dribble to escape. Then he grabbed a handful of fabric from my shirt and stuffed it in his mouth, along with his fist.

  “Ethan,” I laughed. “You can’t eat clothing. It doesn’t taste good.” I dug a baby rusk from his bag, handing it to him. “Here. Try this. Much yummier.”

  Ethan gurgled again and began to gnaw on the rusk.

  A couple of minutes later, Alice was back. She took the baby, who had somehow managed to cover his cheeks with soggy rusk while she was gone.

  “I can’t leave you two for five minutes, can I? Look at you!”
She dug in his bag, producing a Wet One to clean up the mess. “There’s a sign that says the shop’s opening Monday. You should see the inside, Livvy, it’s soooo pretty. I can’t wait to get in there and buy a cake.”

  “Hmph.”

  “I saw someone in there. I knocked on the window but they didn’t answer. Who do you think owns it?”

  “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.