Dying to Be Slim
Page 4
4
Monday
TINA
Tina reclined back on one of the low leather sofas in the corner of Benvolio’s Wine Bar to wait for Marnie. She ordered a glass of lime flavoured tonic, painfully aware of its lack of gin. In her head, she ran through Tuesday’s lessons. All the resources she would need were in the classroom so she wouldn’t have to rush into school too early thankfully. She’d got two free periods tomorrow too; that made life a little easier.
Mikey had dropped her off and driven home to unpack the shopping. The cusp of fatherhood was definitely making him more aware of how much work existed within a marriage. Previously, Mikey had spent hours out with his rugby chums, either playing or boozing. It certainly wasn’t hurting him to do a few chores for once! Tina felt a pang of guilt but quashed it by opening a small packet of chocolate beans and indulging herself in the rich flavour of naughtiness.
Tina had a bit of a craving for chocolate recently which worried her. She presumed it was a pregnancy thing. At least chocolate wouldn’t harm the baby. You heard about some women craving chalk or coal or other weird, inedible stuff. One magazine said that pregnant women craved only what their body was deficient in. The calcium in chalk she could understand… but coal?
Tina wondered what it was that was drawing her to chocolate. Perhaps a craving to have that which she’d denied herself year upon year? She blamed her life of calorie austerity on her mother-in-law entirely. Tina had known Clara for what seemed like forever. It had amazed and terrified her to watch Marnie and Mikey’s mam grow so enormous. Pre-teen, Marnie and Tina had made an oath on the roundabout at Jubilee Park: they vowed never to ‘get big’ and to refuse all foods beginning with ‘ch’. This worked well for chocolate, chips and cheese but collapsed when they realised that chicken was included. Later, when they learned to spell more words, it dawned on them that champagne did not begin with the ‘sh’ they thought it had! Neither of them had tasted champagne but both girls thought they might like to do so at Mikey and Tina’s wedding.
Even at ten years old, Tina had imagined herself marrying Mikey. She had already promised Marnie the role of bridesmaid and dreamed repeatedly of the day she would swish down the aisle in great swathes of expensive material with Marnie holding her ten foot train.
Tina smiled to herself as she finished her chocolate beans. The reality had been much simpler. She’d kept to her food vow, refining it slightly, and this had enabled her to wear a figure hugging, strapless gown. To add some height to her petite frame, Tina’s honey blonde hair had been piled up onto her head in carefully-secured ringlets and her diamanté sandals had been as high as she dare take them. No train. At twenty-three, she looked small, delicate, young and fresh – every inch the blushing bride. Marnie had been chief bridesmaid alongside Tina’s three teenage cousins: Natalie, Stephanie and Leticia.
It wasn’t long after the wedding that Marnie had announced she was pregnant with Skye. Now it was Tina’s turn. The baby fluttered inside her: a physical reminder of the news she needed to impart.
Marnie rushed into Benvolio’s and, spying Tina on the couch at the back of the bar, gave a wave followed by a drinking mime. Tina pointed to the glass in front of her so Marnie moved to the bar and ordered a glass of wine for herself only.
As usual Marnie looked amazing, thought Tina. An ebony designer mac, slightly flared, with big white buttons, openly flapped down to the top of her thighs. Underneath, she was wearing expensive-looking dark jeans which clad her long, slender legs. As if she wasn’t tall enough already (at the very least, nine inches taller than Tina), Marnie was wearing high, strappy sandals fashioned with a tasteful amount of bling. Tina noticed straightaway that Marnie’s handbag matched her footwear perfectly and, no doubt, when she got nearer, Marnie’s nails would also sport a little bling, to complete the look.
Tina knew that Marnie wore skilfully applied hair extensions but anyone else would assume her hair to be wholly her own. The extensions not only gave Marnie’s shiny dark hair length but added volume too. Marnie’s hair was probably the only thing she had in common looks-wise with her mother, Tina mused. Clara’s hair may even have had the edge on Marnie’s, since Clara didn’t need extensions to add volume.
Tina wished her own mother would do something a bit more exciting with her looks. Granted, Theresa Mortimer was considerably older than Clara – she’d been in her mid-forties when she’d found out she was expecting Tina – but she was a quarter of Clara’s size and could easily sort out her wardrobe. And her hair for goodness’ sake! Half the time, she walked around with it tightly secured in rollers and, when it was allowed some freedom, it took on the tight look of an eighties perm. She was looking more and more like Mrs Unwin-across-the-road every day.
“I’ve not been in Benny’s for ages!” exclaimed Marnie, bending to kiss her sister-in-law on the cheek. “It’s so lovely to see you. Feels like forever!”
“Great to see you too, Marns.” Tina patted the sofa next to her. “And you look amazing, as always!”
“Hmmm… don’t know about ‘amazing’. I went to put on my newest top and remembered that Skye christened it with blackcurrant juice at the weekend. Kids, eh? Who’d have ’em?” Marnie chuckled.
“Funny you should say that actually, Marns…”
“What? Who is…” Marnie put her head on one side momentarily. “Oh. My. God. Really? When?”
Marnie squealed and, like Morgs had in Bargain Barn, clapped her hands together in delight.
“Now you mention it, yes, I can see a slight bump!” she enthused.
Tina flattened her top across her middle.
“We thought it was about time to tell everyone,” she said, “he’s beginning to show and I can already feel him moving. He’s due late September.”
“He?”
“Oh, we’ve no idea about that. Just seems to feel like a boy – must be the strength of movement inside.”
“A rugby player like Mikey!” laughed Marnie. “Lucky you! You’ll have two of them to haul out of the Harriers’ Clubhouse or the Jubilee Arms now!”
Tina winced at the thought.
“How do you feel though?” Marnie asked, sipping her wine.
“OK,” shrugged Tina. “I’ve not been sick or anything like that.”
“Not even at the start?” asked Marnie.
“No, never. Not once. I’ve gone off a few things though.”
Marnie laughed.
“Oh well, as long as my brother isn’t one of them!”
Tina smiled but a slight shadow, unnoticed by Marnie, crossed her brow.
“Have you told Mam yet?”
“Mikey called in earlier today when I was at school to tell Clara. I think he and Jakey ended up in the Jubilee Arms.”
“Typical!”
“Mikey said that she was thrilled, of course.”
“Oh, she would be. She’s been dropping unsubtle hints for ages. I was beginning to feel sorry for you both.”
“What? Because we didn’t have a baby?”
“No, silly, because Mam was being pneumatic-drill-subtle!”
“Oh.” Tina giggled.
Both girls leaned forward and took a sip of their drinks.
“Poor Mam,” sighed Marnie.
“Yes, it’s not much of a life is it?”
“It’s not that, particularly. Well, it always is but… I mean… I just feel so bad when I think of what I’ve told her. You know, The Big Lie.”
“Oh, the being married thing?” asked Tina.
“Yes… but you say it like it’s insignificant. And let’s face it: it’s a whopper!”
“Hmmm…” Tina shrugged.
There was no way round it; Marnie had told her mother a big, fat lie. She had, for reasons best known to herself, told Clara that she was married and that ‘Rob’, a fictional character, was Skye’s father. She’d even provided photographic evidence, getting a friend to pose as ‘Rob’.
“Marnie?”
“Yes?”
“Oh, Tina,” Marnie’s face twisted slightly with guilt, “It was a silly, almost non-comment that just grew and grew. She has so much hardship in her life. I was trying to evade the whole ‘who is Skye’s father’ thing? And I wanted her to be proud of me.”
“But she is so proud of you, Marns. Clara and Jakey are both nuts about little Skye and you should hear them talking about the way you look, the clothes you wear and the life you lead!”
“All provided by my imaginary husband,” sighed Marnie. “If she only knew that I’d done it all alone. She’d certainly want to know how and why. And, worse, she’d never stop nagging me about the real identity of Skye’s father.”
“But you don’t know who Skye’s father is, do you? Lots of women are in the same position and have been since the dawn of time.”
“Certain types of women!”
“Rubbish! It’s more common than you think and I imagine there’s many a Countess, Duchess or even Princess, who have questioned the paternity of their little Cuthberts and Clarissas.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I just know that Skye is mine. All we need is each other.”
“And babysitters!” Tina added.
“And babysitters!” echoed Marnie. “Here’s to babysitters! You will come to cherish them in the coming years!”
The girls laughed and downed their drinks.
5
Monday
TINA
“Just drop me here, please.”
The car pulled over in the bus stop bay at the end of Mitchell Road. Tina paid, stepped out onto the pavement and watched her taxi drive away into the night, tail lights disappearing slowly into the dark like the last couple of sparks in a dying fire.
Tina walked up the street, scrabbling in her bag for the house keys. The council were saving money in the area by turning off most of the streetlights. Mitchell Road, in the centre of Hawpeak, was a long road full of estate agents, solicitors’ offices and flats. Two streetlights were on: one by the bus stop bay that the taxi had pulled into and one at the top end of the road by the Tornado roundabout. It was so-called because the pub next to the roundabout was The Tornado, although in rush hour, a non-local could be forgiven for thinking it was due to the amount of traffic whizzing around it at speed.
Tina wished she could see what she was doing.
Footsteps.
She stopped.
No footsteps.
Tina chastised herself for being so nervous and carried on.
Again, footsteps.
Once more, she stopped.
Once more, the footsteps ceased.
Tina quickened her step, no longer bothering to look for her keys.
The footsteps became more hurried.
Tina could see the gate which led into her block of flats.
She ran towards it.
The footsteps were quicker, heavier, nearer.
She could barely hear them through the sudden rushing in her ears and the beating of her heart but she knew they were gaining on her.
Tina’s hand touched the cold, heavy, metal gate and she pushed it open.
Home. Thank god!
The gate creaked its thirsty need for oil.
Then… a hand on her arm!
Blind panic!
“Stop running Tina. It’s only me,” a male voice came out of the blackness.
Tina swung round in fear, then collapsed against her pursuer, sobbing with relief.
“Oh my god, it’s you. It’s you. It’s you!”
She found her tears being kissed tenderly away and she fell against his eager, youthful lips.
He pushed her gently but firmly against the wall of her home and stroked the hair off her wet cheek.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, pressing against her.
“You scared me half to death,” she hissed, trying to convey her anger but not quite managing to move away from his embrace.
He kissed her urgently.
“My husband’s not back till six tomorrow morning. You want to come in?” Breathless.
“Mrs Waterfall,” he murmured into her ear, “teach me good!”
She wondered if correcting his grammar would break the moment. Choosing to stay silent, she simply took his hand in hers and lovingly led him astray.
6
Tuesday
JAKEY
The following morning, Jakey unhitched Clara’s oxygen mask and, with a flick of a switch, brought her bed to a sitting position. With some help from Clara, he was able to untangle the quilt and bring her around to the edge of the bed. From this position, using a bariatric frame, Clara could just about heave herself up to a standing position. This was the best way for Jakey to wash her when he had to manage alone.
Once a week, usually on a Sunday, he and Billie would help Clara shuffle into the shower which had been specially installed off the end of the kitchen. Formerly an outside toilet, the shower wasn’t as good as they’d hoped because, whilst there was enough room for Clara, there wasn’t really enough room for Clara and anyone else. It wasn’t much use having Clara in there alone because her full effort went into staying upright; she really was not able to stay upright and wash herself at the same time.
Daily showers had therefore changed to weekly showers. Jakey, in swimming shorts, would squeeze in beside Clara. Billie, in a flimsy plastic raincoat (purchased from the Grand Canyon ride at Spinney Joy Theme Park and Zoo) would hover with loofah, long-handled sponge and several bath sheets. Any form of washing and cleaning, toileting and dressing brought a measure of indignity with it – if any of them stopped to think about it too deeply. However, Jakey and Billie had helped Clara for so many years that thinking deeply about such matters had fallen by the wayside. Occasionally, Billie would bring a rubber duck, ball or super-soaking water rifle to the showering, which would make them all laugh like loonies!
On weekday mornings, the district nurse came by to help with washing and dressing. The exception to this was Tuesday. On Tuesdays, Jakey always went to visit his elderly mother so the nurse was instructed to come by later in the afternoon. Often, around lunchtime on a Tuesday, Marnie would drop by to shampoo and blow-dry Clara’s hair. However, Marnie was not as reliable as Clara seemed to think she was. Marnie would sometimes fail to turn up and, as a result, Jakey had taken to leaving Clara’s lunch and snacks on a tray next to her chair. Jakey had come to the conclusion that it was asking too much to rely on anyone for anything. Even the health professionals ran late and, occasionally, didn’t turn up at all.
Today was a Tuesday so it was a quick-wash-standing-by-the-bed day. Jakey washed and dried Clara with great care as she stood with the support frame. He knew her body so well; he knew which parts were prone to soreness if they were left even slightly damp. Armed with a tub of therapeutic moisturising gel, he cleansed her liberally where he needed to and she moaned softly because this was the bit she liked best. He used the gel’s lubricating qualities to massage her body gently but firmly as she leaned back on the bed compliantly. When he reached her toes, she giggled slightly, and Jakey was reminded of the girl he first knew all those years ago at Hawpeak Youth Club.
Jakey had been attracted to Clara almost immediately. Sure, she was bigger than the stick thin models the magazines manufactured as the desirable norm, but she was curvy and sexy and her laughter had cascaded through the village hall like the waterfall that was her surname. Jakey remembered the struggle he’d had to lift his head and look her in the eye. He found himself mumbling and staring at her chest; it was the sort of chest that any red-blooded young male would have had difficulty taking his eyes away from!
Vic Smedley pulled her in the end. Vic got all the girls at that time. He was a muscly firefighter with a strong air of confidence. They all flirted with him and he had his pick of the bunch. No wonder he chose Clara. She had a beautiful smile and the prettiest green eyes Jakey had ever seen, framed with eyelashes as lon
g as those found on any film star. Clara also had masses of wavy brunette hair flecked with deep red that shimmered when the sunlight streamed through the club windows. She held an air of innocence about her that Vic had been longing to snatch.
Despite him impregnating her twice with twins, Clara never really lost her wide-eyed innocent look. Years later, she confided in Jakey about Vic’s lack of drive in the bedroom. Two sets of twins and she knew nothing! Vic had been so busy concentrating on himself, his image and his next high, that he’d neglected the mother of his children in almost every way possible.
As well as her eyes, Clara still had such a lovely smile. Jakey was as besotted with her as ever, despite her health issues. He often thought back to their youth club days and wondered if things might have been different had he been blessed with greater confidence.
Instead of Vic, would he have been the one courting her? Would he, Jakey Jackson, have married her? Would they have had money, their own home, their own restaurant perhaps? Of course, they would still have had children eventually but, unlike Vic, Jakey would have taken care of Clara, protecting her against losing her youth.
Jakey sighed as he helped Clara into her day clothes, figuring that ‘might-have-beens’ were of no help to anyone. Sadly, like Hawpeak Youth Club, those early days were gone. The clubhouse had been demolished in a fire. Arson, they said, kids with nothing better to do.
“What time’s your train?” Clara interrupted Jakey’s thoughts.
“I’ll catch the usual one at ten past nine. That’ll give me time to drop Skye off at nursery.”
“OK. And will you be taking your mam any Jakey-bakes?”
“Of course… I think I’ll take her some of that vanilla shortbread I made yesterday and… hmm, maybe the toffee crunch cake that Skye helped me to make. Don’t worry, I’ll remember to leave some sandwiches and cake on the dining board. It’s coffee and walnut cake for you today.”
“I wasn’t worried and it sounds… delicious.” Clara’s voice came out flatter than Jakey’s rolled shortcrust.