Dying to Be Slim

by Abby Beverley

  “George!” Mrs Unwin called her husband. He did not respond.

  “George!”

  “Wait here,” she instructed and disappeared into the kitchen.

  The ambulance drew up outside the house next door. Jakey swept the net curtains to one side and gave Mikey the thumbs up.

  “I hope he’s quick. We need to distract the old bag,” Jakey commented, still peering out of the window.

  “Can you see how many blokes there are with him?” whispered Starla.

  “Looks like a girl. She’s only small so they won’t be carrying Clara out on a stretcher. I guess they’ll help her into the wheelchair then push her out.”

  “It’ll take ages,” sighed Starla.

  “It looks as though they’re wheeling a hoist in,” said Jakey. “That will speed things up a bit.”

  Starla joined Jakey at the window and pressed her face close to his.

  “Ah, a twin hoist,” she muttered.

  “Much safer,” said Jakey. “She’ll be fine… or he, I should say.”

  “Good… I think!”

  Jakey gave Starla a warm smile. He understood her misgivings.

  They replaced the net curtain and moved away from the window.

  “Follow me,” whispered Starla, boldly ignoring Edna’s instruction to wait.

  The pair of them went through to the kitchen and looked out through the open patio window. They could see Edna speaking to George by his vegetable patch. She was pointing towards the house and he was shrugging his shoulders in response. They watched him spear his gardening fork into the soil and sigh.

  George trudged up the garden path, following his wife meekly. His shoulders sagged and his body language screamed that he wanted to return to sewing his carrots, radishes and summer caulis. He was probably craving a swift cigarette behind the shed to boot.

  Edna stepped inside the patio doors and stopped short.

  “I told you to wait in the lounge,” she stated, pinching her lips together in a look of disgust.

  “The garden’s looking excellent, George,” beamed Jakey to George. “Rain’s done it some good.”

  “Thanks, Jakey,” said George, his face crinkling up into a smile.

  “My grandsons?” Edna asked.

  “Ah yes, your grandsons.” Jakey pulled a stool out from the breakfast bar and perched. “Greg and Charlie Unwin. They’re at St Jude’s with Billie. Greg’s in the same year as her. Year 10.”

  “Our Phillip’s two lads,” wheezed George. “Bit of a handful the pair of them!”

  Edna looked as though she’d been slapped by her husband.

  “You know nothing of those boys, George. Good lads, the pair of them. I saw their school reports. Clearly very intelligent. Both of them more than capable of getting to good universities, you mark my words.”

  “Well, they’re going to struggle to get any university to take them if the school decides to suspend them,” Starla retorted. “It’ll stay on their record, you know.”

  “Why would the school want to suspend such fine young men?” quizzed Edna haughtily.

  “Because,” Jakey sighed, “they’ve broken the school code of conduct, not to mention the law. They’ve been sending the modern day equivalent of poison pen letters to our Billie.”

  “We’re going to the school to meet with their teachers this afternoon,” added Starla. “But we thought we’d come over and mention it to you first.”

  Edna and George looked dumbfounded.

  “There are a great many personal insults laced with bad language that the school can apparently prove have come from your grandsons,” said Jakey, trying to remember the details that Guy had given yesterday. “They even have close circuit television video of your grandsons working at the same computer in the library at lunchtime. The IP address places them at that computer at the actual time that some of these bullying comments were sent.”

  “IP address?” questioned George.

  “Yes, George. Every device has its own unique code – a bit like a fingerprint or DNA coding – called Internet Protocol or IP for short. It’s one of the ways that the police can track criminal activity over the internet or find out other information.”

  George looked uncomfortable and Edna had to hold onto the kitchen counter to steady herself.

  Starla smiled gently.

  “Edna,” she said softly, “much of what was said has clearly come from either you or your husband. Not many people know about Billie’s mother’s, er… condition. Hardly anyone really. We’ve kept it very quiet. Only family, close friends and the health care professionals.”

  “Maybe one or two neighbours might know the extent of her weight problem,” added Jakey. “One or two neighbours like yourselves, perhaps, or the Mortimers across the way.”

  “Are you saying that we’ve fed our grandsons a load of vicious gossip, which they’ve used against young Billie?” asked George reasonably.

  Jakey nodded sadly.

  George pulled himself up to his full height.

  “Well…” he asserted, “I wonder which one of us might have done that? Any ideas, Edna?”

  “I might have made one or two comments,” muttered Edna. “But I certainly didn’t tell the boys to use them maliciously.”

  “Either way, I’m sure the school will be in touch with your son and his wife,” said Jakey. “It might be an idea to tip your grandsons off. That way the boys could maybe ‘own up’ before the school haul them in front of the governors and discuss their suspension. As Starla said, we’re going along this afternoon but I doubt they’ll confront your grandsons about it till next week now.”

  “Perhaps they could apologise to Billie, in person and online,” Starla suggested. “You could always come to the school with us this afternoon if you’d like to put in a word for your grandsons. That’s if you’re not busy around two o’clock?”

  Edna looked at her husband who raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded, then pursed her lips.

  “Now, Edna…” smiled Jakey. “How about offering us a cup of tea? I don’t know about Starla but I’m parched.”

  Edna Unwin filled the kettle puckering her face up so tightly that it matched one of her crocheted doilies. George Unwin stood on the patio explaining to Jakey and Starla, in some detail, his plan for this year’s vegetables.

  40

  Friday

  COLE

  Cole felt traumatised. A big bloke called Mikey had just wheeled him back into the house that he’d been collected from earlier that afternoon. He wasn’t actually sure where the house was located since the wheelchair had been strapped against the interior back of the ambulance, making it impossible to see out of any of the windows. He thought it was probably near Bilberrymoor, where he and Connor had mugged the woman they all called Starla. Well, Starla was getting her own back now, by blackmailing him good and proper. If he did this, did that; said this, and said that, she’d get him home. It was all wrong. He was the Cobalt Bat Boy! He should be doing the blackmailing.

  Just recently he’d been rethinking the whole Bat Boy thing. It didn’t seem to get him anywhere other than into trouble. He hadn’t enjoyed prison (although he knew some blokes who did) and he felt guilty about leaving all Evie’s care to Maria. Maria had always been so good at remembering to give Evie her meds and at clearing her lungs. She looked after her sister constantly, even when they were quite little and he’d found himself put away for varying lengths of time. Maria was in her early twenties now and should be getting on with her own life. She’d had the same boyfriend for some years and had mentioned a few times that they were thinking of moving in together.

  Besides that, Connor needed more direction. He could be a bit dim at times, could Connor, although he had taken well to crime and so far, thankfully, Cole had managed to shield him from ever getting arrested. Connor might take well to something else. Perhaps he could look at some college courses with his son when he got back home… if he got back home.

  Cole had been very surpr
ised when the ambulance turned up just before midday to transport him to Spinney Joy Theme Park and Zoo. He had taken his kids there about fifteen years ago. He remembered it well. A monkey had picked up a pile of its own faeces and thrown it at the crowd of spectators. Poor Connor, a toddler in his pushchair, had copped the lot; it had stuck to his face and hair like sticky brown glue.

  Cole wouldn’t have recognised the place now but they had unloaded him by the front gates so he’d seen the colourful Spinney Joy Theme Park and Zoo sign. It bade him Welcome in bubbly writing interlaced with monkey tails, elephant trunks and giraffe necks.

  It was a warm day and obviously National School Trip Day since every sodding schoolkid in South Yorkshire appeared to be present and gawping at him being wheeled towards the zoo’s veterinary centre. He had wanted to jump out of the chair and scream at them that he wasn’t a freak, that there was nothing to rubberneck at, that the poor woman whose body this was didn’t deserve their sniggers and stares.

  He had no idea that they scanned obese folk at the zoo. It was outrageous! Did they think that larger people deserved to be treated like animals? Was it a crime to enjoy a slab of chocolate cake or an extra-large fish in batter? Cole thought of all the actual crimes he’d committed and the mental trauma he’d inflicted upon his victims. The health professionals were no better at times, he decided, they just had the law on their side.

  He had found the whole zoo excursion utterly humiliating – and he wasn’t even overweight in reality. He may have developed a bit of a steak-and-ale-pie belly perhaps, but nothing even close to obese. Nothing that could ever warrant being hauled into a hippo stall.

  To top it all, the big bloke called Mikey had constantly massaged his shoulders, stroked his hand and, unbelievably, was another one who kept calling him ‘Mam’. Bit like those twins yesterday. What were their names? Gus, Gav, something like that.

  He didn’t mind the girls stroking his hand. Especially the hot one – the porn star! She could stroke anything she liked, as far as Cole was concerned. Pity he was stuck looking like a woman. He couldn’t chat the hottie up properly wearing a woman’s body.

  Cole wondered where his own body was. Slumped over in the car still or had they moved him into a bed? Perhaps they thought he was dead and cremated his body? Worse! What if they’d buried him in a coffin and he returned to a body that was trapped underground? He’d seen a movie about being buried alive once and it had scared the crap out of him. Cole began to hyperventilate slightly at the thought of never returning to his own body and Mikey patted him gently as if he were a dog.

  Dog. That reminded him… Statham? Would they remember to feed Statham? Would they walk him and give him fresh water. Connor was usually pretty good with the dog but would he forget this time?

  He must stop this worrying. He’d never worried about things before.

  Must. Calm. Down.

  It was this bloody family’s fault. They were a bunch of bullshitters. It was hard to keep up with the bullets that kept firing from their constantly full arsenal of lies. This way, that way; this way, that way. He was told to say that Starla was his sister and he understood that the bloke who made the delicious cakes was his (the fat lady’s) partner. Then his ‘sister’ and ‘partner’ had got it on together out in the hall; he’d just observed enough to come to the conclusion that they were definitely a lot more friendly than a brother and sister should be!

  He’d also heard them that say their daughter-in-law, Tina, had been expecting a baby but they didn’t know if the father was her husband, one of the twins or some other guy. Anyway, he knew she’d lost the baby and that made him sad, despite not knowing this Tina person at all. His late wife had lost a baby in between the girls and Connor. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy… and he had a few!

  The younger daughter (the cute one that was still at school) had announced that she was pregnant and wouldn’t say who the father was. As far as he knew, she was still carrying her baby.

  The bloke with the beard and the mole under his eye had put his hand on the knee of one of the twins – the one without the black eye and swollen nose. They seemed very close: a couple perhaps? Cole had seen a lot of that in prison so he recognised the signs. The beard and mole bloke had then confused the issue, however, by claiming that he wasn’t the father of anyone’s child, although he’d originally said he was. He’d even apologised to Cole, declaring that he wasn’t the pratt who’d married the hottie porn star. Perhaps he was a pilot? They talked a lot about sky and she had mentioned something about being at the airport tomorrow morning.

  It was all very confusing and Cole’s head throbbed.

  It hadn’t helped when they’d shot him with that stuff before the scan. The liquid they injected was slightly cooler than his blood. It zoomed round his body so fast; it felt like an icy venetian blind being internally dropped down from his head to his toes.

  Then they’d shut him in the drawer and although all he could actually smell was disinfectant, he began to convince himself that the stench of rotten rhinoceros faeces was crawling up his nose like a thousand threadworms thrusting themselves into his brain. He had closed his eyes in terror and seen pachyderms pushing behind his pupils, trumpeting to be set free.

  Of course, the health care people had been nice. Nice. It was the only word he could think of to describe them. But ‘nice’ is a bit like the circus clown with the upside down mouth and the black backgammon spikes around his eyes. Nice can be disturbing; calm can be chilling; reasonable can be unsettling.

  Cole really, really wanted to go home.

  41

  Friday

  STARLA

  At two o’clock, Starla buzzed to be let into the reception area at St Jude’s Academy. Next to her stood Jakey and just behind them, Mr and Mrs Unwin.

  “Ye-es?” asked the long-faced receptionist. Valerie, Veronica… something beginning with V, Starla tried to recall her name. Not Victoria, that would have put her in mind of Vic.

  “We’ve got an appointment with the Head of Year,” stated Starla, proud because she knew what she was doing this time.

  “Mr Pantling? Mr Patel? Miss Warden? Mrs Lambert? Mr Jenkins? Miss Keane?”

  Damn! Starla had forgotten she did the whole list of names like that.

  “Mrs Lambert, please,” she mumbled, feeling stupid.

  “Please take a seat. Mrs Lambert will be with you directly.” The long-faced receptionist whose name began with V had as much charm as a freshly-caught Grimsby haddock.

  “Thank you, Verity,” smiled Mrs Lambert, appearing a few minutes later. “Could you hand out some lanyards and sign these good people in please?”

  Verity! That was it!

  When they were signed in and given badges, Mrs Lambert led them to the same meeting room that Starla had been to on her previous visit. She was wearing her suit this time, although it looked a little tight, given the advanced stage of her twin pregnancy.

  “Mrs Lambert, lovely to see you again,” smiled Starla, once they were inside and away from Verity the long-faced receptionist. “This is Billie’s father, Jakey Jackson. I believe you spoke to him on the phone previously about a truanting issue.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Jakey, shaking hands with Mrs Lambert.

  “And these good people are our next door neighbours – Edna and George Unwin. They are the grandparents of Greg Unwin in your year group and his brother, Charlie, who is in Year… who is, er… younger.”

  “Charlie’s in Year 9,” volunteered Edna helpfully, also shaking hands with Mrs Lambert.

  “Good to meet you all,” nodded Mrs Lambert. “Please take a seat one and all. And then, perhaps, someone could enlighten me as to the problem.”

  “Remember the cyberbullying issue we discussed?” began Starla.

  “Of course,” responded Mrs Lambert, “we’ve had our IT fella onto it here and he has given me the names of culprits. Water?”

  Mrs Lambert hauled her huge bump over the table to reach s
ome freshly iced water and five glasses.

  “And…?” Edna chipped in, hoping that Mrs Lambert had been given the wrong names.

  “Erm… I’m really sorry,” apologised Mrs Lambert, pouring the water and handing a glass to each visitor, “but I need to talk to the parents first.”

  “Look, Mrs Lambert,” George piped up, “we all know that it’s Gregory and Charles. That’s why my wife and I have come here today. We want to assure you that it will never happen again and we want to inform you that the boys will apologise to Billie, will delete their online comments and will be severely punished.”

  “Ah,” said Mrs Lambert, wondering how much she should divulge. “And this was, what? A confession? Or did you discover their antics?”

  “It was… erm…” George felt unable to lie. “It was brought to our attention.”

  “With a full and frank confession from both boys!” Jakey leapt in to help his neighbours.

  “Yes,” agreed Starla, following Jakey’s lead, “they came round last night and were so upset at what they’d done. It seems they have quite a conscience between them and were terribly distraught at the thought of hurting Billie’s feelings.”

  “What about your sister? The larger lady who needs the special equipment that you mentioned previously?” enquired Mrs Lambert as politely as possible.

  “Oh yes! They were concerned about her feelings too and now they’ve met her, they realise that she’s a lovely person. They’re terribly sorry.”

  George and Edna stared at each other, open mouthed. They had been prepared to explain that the boys were wrong and would be forced to make amends, but they hadn’t expected their neighbour and his sister-in-law to lie in order to bail their grandsons out.