Dying to Be Slim

by Abby Beverley

  The two English teachers left the toilets, giggling. Starla washed her hands and stepped out into the corridor. She could see Tina still chatting to Faye at the end of it. Invisible, she advanced down the corridor towards the pair.

  “So we’ll finish the Year 8 reading programme on Thursday after school.” Starla heard Tina say to her colleague.

  Seeing Tina had suddenly made Starla feel a bit more cheery, reminding her that there were some things in life to feel good about; a precious new grandchild being one of them. Tina bade farewell to her colleague and headed towards a flight of stairs. Starla followed her to the top and watched her disappear between a set of glazed double doors. Unsure as to why she’d even bothered to follow Tina, Starla turned towards the stairs intending to make her way down, remove the ring and sign herself out.

  Suddenly, from the other side of the landing area, her youngest son emerged from a different set of glazed double doors. Guy! Starla wanted to run up and claim a hug. She needed a good mother-son cuddle after all she’d been though today. He was unable to see her, however, and therefore just strode past clutching an old-fashioned, heavy-looking monitor in his arms. He negotiated the second set of double doors – the ones that Tina had disappeared though – by pushing one open with his back and the other with the heel of his left foot, making him hop twice in a very controlled way; a well-practised move, obviously. Having never seen her son in his workplace, Starla followed in his wake.

  Guy walked to the end of a long corridor and Starla recognised it as the one where all the maths rooms had been in her day. Now they appeared to be full of computer rooms or ‘ICT Suites’ as they claimed on their door plaques. As she went by, Starla could see that the suites were full of students and she wondered if Billie was one of them. At the end of the corridor, Guy kicked open a single door labelled ‘Network Manager’ and, since it stayed open, Starla hopped inside behind him. Guy’s office was indeed full of lights and switches, cabinets and computer parts, just as Billie had described. The temperature plummeted and Starla could both see and hear the large air conditioning unit pumping out cold air next to the gadget-packed cabinets that stretched from floor to ceiling. It wasn’t the tidiest of rooms but then the big back bedroom, which he’d shared with Gavin and Mikey when they were boys, hadn’t exactly been what anyone would call tidy.

  Guy placed the monitor down on a swivel chair – possibly the only empty surface in the office – and closed the office door, again with his foot. It clicked shut on a digital locking system. Although there was plenty of work space, every surface was covered in tools, folders, empty coffee cups, wires, cables, books, circuit boards – Starla didn’t even know what most of the junk was called, let alone what it was for!

  Down the left hand wall, a long shelving unit divided the office slightly. This bulged with boxes containing reams of paper. Several more boxes of paper were stacked precariously in front of it. At the far end of the office was a sink area, complete with kettle and microwave, although it had been taken over by several electronic music keyboards, some stacked in front of the microwave and some in bits around the kettle. A number of small screws were lined up on top of the microwave – it was probably the only space left to safely place something that might be required later.

  Between the shelving unit and the sink area was a desk, on which had been dumped several scanners, visualisers and a printer. Laptop bags were propped up here and there around the office and, if they failed to trip anyone up, there was always the likelihood that an errant tripod or two might do the job.

  Another desk towards the back of the room, this time to the right of the sink area, partially blocked the fire exit and in front of it, one of Guy’s colleagues sat with their back to the mess. Noticing the presence of someone else, Guy walked towards the chair. He put his hands on the back of it and swivelled it round to face him.

  Guy stroked her face sensually with the back of his hand and bent down to kiss her lips!

  Starla’s hand flew to her face in horror.

  Tina?

  This was not the fond kiss of a man to his brother’s wife. It was a kiss that all but sizzled with heat, intensity and passion. And the kiss was being returned! With closed eyes and evident enjoyment!

  Starla staggered back, shocked. She banged into the table behind her and a screwdriver rolled onto the floor. The kissing couple both turned their heads in the direction of the fallen tool, guilt etched across their faces like matching tattoos.

  Feeling panic rise up like a hot water geyser, Starla reached for the ring and rubbed it. Sobbing and gasping for air, she continued rubbing vigorously until the atmosphere changed from thin, chilly air conditioning to that of thick, warm living room air layered with the scents of home.

  14

  Tuesday

  CLARA

  Was she home? The sudden heaviness of her limbs and inability to move gave her the answer. Clara was once more back in her suit of corpulent armour.

  She lifted her eyelids and heard a voice: “Helloooo… Miss Waterfall… Clara?”

  It was Yasha Gupta, the district nurse, trying desperately to wake her up.

  “We thought you weren’t going to wake up, Clara,” Yasha said with a small hint of panic in her voice. “I was just about to get Rosie to ring the doctor.”

  Rosie looked every inch the student nurse, her young face pulling the right expressions and nodding fervently in agreement with Yasha.

  “Have you met my student, Rosie Watson?” asked Yasha, gently pushing an ear thermometer into her patient’s auditory canal and removing it to read the LED screen. “She’s observing at the moment but I’m sure she’ll make an excellent nurse when she qualifies.”

  “How are you feeling today, Miss Waterfall?” enquired Rosie politely.

  “I… feel… numb.” Clara’s reply was little more than a squeak.

  “Whereabouts, Clara? Is it your legs? Can you show us?” Yasha moved her hands efficiently.

  “No, it’s my heart,” sighed Clara, her voice wobbling with emotion.

  “Your heart?” Yasha looked slightly panicked again. “Do you have any chest pain right now? Is your heart beating too fast or too slow? Does it feel irregular? Give me your wrist.”

  Clara sighed. That was the trouble with these nurses, everything was so literal. She waited until Yasha had taken her pulse and patted her stopwatch back flat onto her tunic.

  “No obvious signs of…”

  “My heart’s fine,” Clara interrupted. “I just meant that I feel a bit down today.”

  “Oh.” Yasha picked up the blood pressure monitor. “Let’s take your blood pressure then and see if we can’t cheer you up, eh?”

  Clara shrugged. She failed to remember any time in her adult life when having her blood pressure taken had made her feel cheerful. Usually the cuff pressed so hard, it felt as though her arm were trapped in a vice. It wasn’t unusual for her to fantasise about ripping it off and throwing it against the wall.

  “Awww… are these pictures of your family?” enquired Rosie, pointing to the photo shelf.

  Clara nodded, thinking that some of her family weren’t quite living up to expectations right now. How things had changed in just one day!

  “Oh I’ve seen this guy!” exclaimed Rosie.

  “He’s the Network Manager at St Jude’s,” responded Clara, misunderstanding.

  “I didn’t go to St Jude’s,” said Rosie. “I grew up and went to school in Leicester.”

  Yasha, unable to resist a bit of a mystery, looked at the photo that Rosie had picked up.

  “No, that’s not Guy,” she explained to Rosie. “Gavin and Guy started at St Jude’s about the time I was doing my GCSEs. Everyone knew them because they looked so alike. Funny how Guy ended up working there, isn’t it Clara?”

  “Mmm,” agreed Clara, disinterested.

  “No, that’s a photo of Jakey and…” Yasha paused. “What’s Marnie’s daughter called again?”

  “Skye.”

 
“Yes, that’s it. That’s Jakey and Skye. Jakey works down the Muncaster Hotel. He’s one of the chefs there. I expect that’s where you’ve seen him Rosie. Now let’s get these obs finished and written up, then we can all have a nice cup of tea.”

  Rosie shrugged and assisted Yasha in completing Clara’s obs.

  Everything seemed to be in order and, before long, the nurses were returning their mugs to the kitchen, putting their things away and gathering up their coats.

  “It’s warm out. You won’t need those thick coats,” remarked Clara.

  “Says she who hasn’t been outside for years!” joked Yasha.

  “It said so on the telly,” Clara retorted, wondering if Yasha’s disrespectful attitude would rub off on her young assistant.

  “Hey! I’ve just remembered where I’ve seen your fella!” cried Rosie in a way that indicated it had been bothering her. “He’s been round our house, back in Leicester.”

  “Leicester!” Clara exclaimed.

  “Yes, he’s friends with my mum. I’ve seen him there a few times when I’ve been home between block shifts.”

  “I think there’s a mistake there, love,” said Clara. “Jakey’s always here, except Tuesdays when he goes up to Leeds to visit his mam on the train. I don’t think he’s ever been to Leicester. We’ve always preferred being up north.”

  “No, I’m sure I’ve seen him. My mum’s an ex-model turned photographer. Part of our house is extended and she’s got her own studio. Might he have done some modelling for her?”

  In spite of all that had happened during the course of the day, Clara found herself laughing out loud. Yasha joined her.

  Coughing on the back of her sudden laughter, Clara croaked, “Well now lass, you’ve cheered me up if nothing else – and I have to tell you, I was feeling pretty down. No, our Jakey’s not exactly cut out to be a model.”

  “I don’t know,” defended Yasha, “he’s a nice looking chap. I think you’re being a bit harsh, Clara. I’m sure he’d do very well on a shoot.” But she laughed as she said it, reaching for a frame from the photo shelf which showed Jakey and Billie’s faces close together, the likeness unmistakable.

  “Shoot?” echoed Clara.

  Then realisation dawned. Marnie’s shooting had nothing to do with guns and drug raids.

  “Of course! Our Marnie’s doing a bit of modelling on the side! Yes, that’ll be it! I always thought she’d look as good as any of those skinny women on the magazine covers.”

  “Well, now… two models in the family, eh?” Yasha looked again at the photo of Jakey. “Not sure Jakey’s quite got the confidence for it though, has he? Although there’s nobody could argue about him not having the looks.”

  “I’ll ask him to give me a private showing when he gets home,” chuckled Clara, relief about Marnie flooding over her like a tsunami.

  “Not everyone comes to see Mum about modelling,” declared Rosie indignantly.

  “Well, I’m sure your dad wouldn’t appreciate him taking his clothes off for any other reason!” Yasha giggled.

  “I never said he took his clothes off!” said Rosie. “And my dad’s dead. He died from motor neurone disease.”

  Clara bowed her head remorsefully.

  Yasha put her arm up to Rosie’s back hesitantly. She gave a professional half-hug.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” she said with genuine sadness.

  Rosie smiled weakly.

  “It’s OK. You didn’t know,” she sighed.

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken though,” Clara said eventually, lifting her head. “My Jakey’s never been to Leicester in his life… that I’m aware of…”

  “Unless he’s telling you fibs.” Yasha’s eyes gleamed, briefly revealing the spiteful schoolgirl that had once lurked inside.

  Clara frowned and watched Yasha return the framed photo back to its place on the shelf.

  “Why on earth would my Jakey be going to visit a widowed ex-model in Leicester?” asked Clara quietly but, too late, a plausible answer sprang into her head and, once there, it simply would not shift.

  15

  Tuesday

  TINA

  At five past three, Tina sat down heavily on the springy office chair behind her desk in Room 17 on the second floor of St Jude’s. Wide, cluttered and hefty, the teacher’s desk dominated the front right hand side of the classroom. Two tall stacks of Year 7 novels teetered against a large filing cabinet which blocked light from the window. On top of the filing cabinet some plastic boxes draped with sugar paper further obstructed the light. On the desk in front of the novels, a flat screen monitor helped to shed a bit of extra light although Tina had to pull the mouse cable quite hard to gain enough slack with which to work.

  To her left, the teacher she shared her classroom with had created two piles of papers which appeared to be breeding overnight. These were laced with various leadless pencils, felt tips with missing lids, confiscated Pokemon cards and a long-lost lunchbox with crusts, apple core and thriving spores trapped inside. A stripy, chipped mug with a small amount of cold tea in it was balanced precariously on top of the lunchbox.

  Last lesson, Tina had shown Year 9 a range of speeches to help them prepare for their speaking and listening assessment after half term. The end-of-school bell had rudely interrupted J K Rowling speaking to a crowd of Harvard graduates in Massachusetts. Her speech had been paused near the end, leaving a still image of Ms Rowling with her mouth open, in the middle of thanking her attentive audience. Tina closed the clip and, since the computer was already on, she flicked open her Inbox and began to check through her emails.

  A noise at the door interrupted her task. Tina looked up, her hand still resting upon the mouse. One of her Year 9 students from last period charged back into the classroom, laughing.

  “Yes, Ella?”

  “Sorry, Mrs Waterfall, I forgot my pencil case,” giggled the girl, clearly being egged on by two of her friends who were hanging around outside the door.

  Tina sighed.

  “Is that it over there?” she asked, removing her hand from the mouse and pointing towards a lone, orange pencil case stranded mid-table at the back of the room.

  “Yeah Miss, that’s mine,” answered Ella.

  Without further comment, Ella went to grab the pencil case and stood checking its contents briefly while Tina returned her focus to the computer screen.

  “Oooh Miss, is Mr Waterfall in IT your husband then?”

  “What?” Tina looked up at Ella, who, annoyingly, was still standing by the table at the back of the room.

  “It says up there. ‘I can’t wait to spend another night with you soon – Guy Waterfall, Network Manager, St Jude’s…’ Oooh Miss, that’s dead romantic, that is!”

  “Thank you, Ella. I’d prefer it if you didn’t read my personal emails. Now take your pencil case and go home.”

  “But I’m only reading what’s on the screen, Miss. You keep telling us that we should read as much as possible!”

  Tina hurriedly muted the data projector and stood up.

  “Ella, you and I both know that I was talking about books. Now, if you don’t mind… I’m busy, your friends are waiting and the show here is most definitely over.”

  “Funny…” called Ella, skipping from the room, “we all thought Mr Waterfall in IT was your brother. I’ll make sure I tell everyone that they got it wrong.”

  Tina gave a forced smile and said nothing more.

  Once Ella had left the classroom, Tina released a breath that she didn’t realise she was holding. She turned the data projector off and sat back down on her chair, head in her hands.

  This was not good news. Ella Cameron’s mother was a nurse at the Yorkshire Royal Infirmary where Mikey worked. Tina recalled Mrs Cameron arriving at Parents’ Evening wearing her uniform, having rushed to see Ella’s teachers after a ten hour shift. She was a loud, gossipy woman who wanted to talk more about herself and her varicose veins than Ella.

  Tina shook her head. She was proba
bly fretting about nothing. The hospital had hundreds of employees. The likelihood of a nurse and an ambulance driver confiding in each other about personal matters was highly unlikely.

  Tina considered the worst case scenario: Ella could tell her mother who, in turn, could tell Mikey. But what could Ella tell her mother exactly? Mrs Waterfall is married to Mr Waterfall? Well, that’s hardly news. Mrs Waterfall is having an affair with her brother? That would just make Ella sound ridiculous. Mrs Waterfall received a romantic email from the network manager? That sounded worse.

  The thought of being found out made Tina shudder. She didn’t want Mikey to know; she loved him too much. After all, she was carrying his baby – she was pretty sure about that.

  But… Guy. Guy excited her. He made her feel sexy and desirable.

  He brought something to her life that Mikey didn’t. Passion, romance, and something deliciously illicit. Guy was a man with no historical inhibitions; Tina barely remembered him from the time she was a child. He had been half a double act that she never spoke to. Maybe the fact that he was her brother-in-law made their affair more dangerous – a perilous edge that she might lurch over or launch off from, the latter taking her to previously unimagined heights.

  Tina knew she should stop, but… it was so hard to do. Just like her mother-in-law who couldn’t stop eating, Tina couldn’t stop seeing Guy. It was bad for her in every way – but it felt so good too!

  Oh she had tried! Lord knows, she’d tried! She had halted the affair several times over the past few years – for a whole year, once. But each time her heart would behave like an elastic band stretched to full capacity. Eventually it could take no more and she would spring back into his open arms.

  Tina closed the mails in her Inbox and negotiated her way through the maze of tables to the back of the classroom. As usual, the dictionaries had been hurled onto the back shelf haphazardly. Some had ripped spines or their covers bent back, some had torn covers, some had no cover at all, giving them a slightly ‘bald’ look. As Tina did her best to stand each book up, spines facing out, she thought about the first time she got together with Guy.