Times have changed.’
Her mother looked so sad that Daisy felt a sudden burst of love for her, love and pity. Her mother had tried to live in the past, relying on past glories to help her through her life.
‘Poor Mother.’ She said it aloud.
And she did something else she’d rarely done before: she reached out and hugged her mother.
Nan didn’t sink into the embrace but then she wasn’t that sort of person. Instead, Daisy was sure there was a slight unbending of her spine.
‘Chin up,’ Nan said briskly, pul ing back. ‘Never let them see you cry, that’s the family motto.’
‘I think we need a new family motto,’ Daisy murmured under her breath.
Daisy sat in the very last row of the chairs set out in the room and looked at the other dieters who’d come to the Wednesday night meeting of the Carrickwel branch of Born To Be Slim. They were al shapes and sizes, some glowing with pride at their new slim selves, others glowering with misery at not being slim. The ones who’d got through the awful business of being weighed chatted with each another, bandying comments about losing two pounds, losing only three ounces, how soon the wedding was going to be, the joy of fitting into a size fourteen and how they’d kil for some real butter.
Daisy could no longer get into a size sixteen. The shame of it. She’d tried everything: clearing the kitchen of goodies; saying
‘I wil not buy any chocolate’ when she walked past the newsagent’s; buying bags and bags of salad and low-fat salad dressing that tasted faintly of sugar-laced polystyrene. Nothing worked. Which was why she was here, parading her shame among some forty other women, and a couple of men.
The BTBS leaflet that she’d picked up in the health food shop (that detoxing and slimming herbal drink had been completely useless after al ), promised that they could help anyone lose weight. ‘Al you need is to want to be thin,’ the literature promised.
Wel , Daisy certainly wanted that. If wanting was enough to make it happen, she felt thinner already. But then she’d wanted Alex back and he hadn’t come back, so wanting was clearly not enough. The woman in charge of the Carrickwel branch of Born To Be Slim looked vaguely familiar. Her hair was short but Daisy had a sudden mental image of it long, swished back with a confident flick of the head. Bal et classes. They’d been to bal et together. The years she’d stomped around Ms De Fressange’s studio in her bal et shoes were years Daisy had hoped to forget.
She’d always felt too plump and too self-conscious to glide like a gazel e and in the studio’s Christmas bal et productions, Daisy had always been confined to second swan at the back of the corps de bal et. But her mother had insisted. ‘Bal et is so good for the posture, Denise.’
Daisy instinctively pul ed herself up straighter now. Yvette had been one of the studio’s bal et stars and she didn’t appear to have changed. Stil slim, poised and probably capable of a couple of grands jetes without looking like a baby elephant on ice. Daisy knew that Yvette must have been fat once or else she wouldn’t have been running a slimmers’ class, but there was no fat visible now. Why weren’t the class leaders made to wear before and after photos? Then everyone wouldn’t feel so intimidated.
Meekly, Daisy took her place in line in front of Yvette where the weigh-in torture was going on, and hoped that Yvette wouldn’t remember her.
‘Daisy! It’s great to see you. And you look fabulous. Wel a few pounds you could do without, but don’t mind that. We’l soon get it off and turn you into a new woman.’
For a thin person, Yvette had a big embrace, and her enthusiasm took Daisy by surprise.
‘Hel o, Yvette,’ she mumbled in deep embarrassment.
‘It’s so nice to see you, real y,’ Yvette went on, briskly taking Daisy’s weight and writing it down. ‘Now, height. That’s so we can work out your goal weight.’
Chatting blithely to get past the horrific statistics was obviously the secret to Yvette’s success with her class. In a flash, Daisy Was clutching a piece of paper with her shameful weight written on it, along with the weight she was hoping to reach. There was a difference of two and a half stones between the two figures, and even then she wouldn’t be as thin as she’d been for the past few years. A woman who’d just been weighed sat down beside her and smiled shyly at Daisy.
‘Hi!’ Daisy introduced herself.
‘I’m Cyn,’ said the woman. Cyn was huge. Not just fat but in the obesity danger zone. Daisy thanked her lucky stars that she wasn’t that size. Yet Cyn had a lovely face and big eyes that sparkled with vitality. And she had such a sweet smile, though to see it, you had to get past the fat. Daisy realised that if she’d seen Cyn in the street, she’d only have noticed her huge bulk, not that there was a lovely person underneath. That was just the way people had looked at her years ago.
Suddenly Daisy felt horrendously ashamed of herself.
She’d done just what she never wanted other people to do to her: to judge a book by its cover.
While Yvette talked about good foods, bad foods and foods that were so evil and calorific they should come wrapped in skul -and-crossbones paper, Cyn and Daisy talked.
‘I’m here to get thin once and for al ,’ said Cyn, who was twenty-five and wanted with al her heart to be a nurse but couldn’t due to her bulk. ‘I am going to give it one last shot and then, it’s stomach stapling time. I’ve been this size since I was a teenager. Al my family are big, but they don’t mind. What are you doing here?’
‘Same.’
‘Why?’
Daisy faltered. She couldn’t say ‘because I’m fat’, because compared to Cyn, she wasn’t she didn’t need to be there.
The truth hit with sudden clarity. ‘I’m heavier than I’d like to be,’ she said lamely.
‘You’re a sprite,’ laughed Cyn. ‘You don’t need this.’ Cyn had been coming for two weeks and had lost eight pounds.
‘It’s been so hard,’ she whispered. ‘I longed for white bread and cream cheese. Longed for it. I would have kil ed for some but I knew that if I started, I’d never stop.’ ‘Chocolate,’
Daisy whispered back.
‘Oh, don’t!’
They chatted through the class, then Daisy asked Cyn if she’d like to have a coffee in Mo’s Diner.
Cyn hesitated. ‘I don’t go out much at night,’ she said, and she looked shy again, the way she had at first.
‘Just one coffee, black, no sugar,’ Daisy said. And if anyone made a single comment about Cyn’s size, Daisy would kil them. She could see herself in Cyn: hiding from who she real y was. Cyn needed to lose weight, but she needed so much more besides. Daisy had spent years thinking that if she was thin, her life would be better. And it hadn’t been. She’d lost the weight but the neuroses had grown fatter and healthier than ever. They sat in the back booth in Mo’s. Cyn had to sit sideways because she couldn’t real y fit her stomach under the table. ‘It’s lovely to be out,’ she said, eyes shining brightly, looking around.
‘I don’t think I’m going to go back to the class,’ Daisy began. ‘I’ve spent years panicking about my weight and thinking if I was thin it would al be better, and that’s wrong.
It seems so obvious to me now!’ she laughed. She’d been thin for years and yet Alex had left her. Her state of mind was what mattered not what she weighed. The diet class had been a mistake, she knew that now. And that realisation felt wonderful, like several pounds being miraculously lifted from her body. Peace of mind was the ideal diet aid, Daisy thought happily.
‘But who’l I talk to if you’re not coming any more?’ asked Cyn anxiously.
‘I didn’t say we wouldn’t be friends,’ Daisy reassured Cyn.
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly. There’s someone I think you should meet,’ Daisy added. ‘Leah Meyer, she runs Cloud’s Hil Spa.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Cyn, pul ing her cardigan around her as if to hide herself even further. ‘I don’t do spas and gyms and that type of thing.’
Daisy reached out and took Cyn’s hand. She had tiny hands and dainty little fingers and they clung to Daisy’s.
‘Cloud’s Hil isn’t about the gym and dieting,’ she said gently. ‘It’s …’ she searched for the word, ‘it’s a bit magical.
If I tel you how it helped me, would you come and visit it?’
Cyn’s eyes met Daisy’s. She nodded. ‘Nobody wil laugh at me?’ ‘No,’ said Daisy. ‘They’l love you.’
‘But what would I do there?’
Daisy thought about what Cloud’s Hil had done for her. She felt like a different person now. She saw the world clearly; she wasn’t the frightened, anxious teenager looking out from behind the big barrier of her own insecurities. She’d had to survive a lot, Leah had reminded her. She was a survivor and she had a future. How could she explain al this to Cyn?
‘You’l meet people who’l make you see your life differently,’ Daisy said. ‘You’l stop being scared, you’l learn to like yourself.’ Cyn looked frankly disbelieving at this.
‘You wil . I have,’ Daisy said cheerful y, ‘and a few months ago, I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.’ But it is, I
.promise.
Cleo’s bag was packed, Leah was driving her to the train station the fol owing morning, and she had to be at the airport by ten for her flight to France. Her mother said they couldn’t wait to see her.
‘And you need a break, love,’ Sheila Malin fussed. ‘You’ve been doing far too much, by the sound of it.’
‘I’m so looking forward to it, Mum,’ Cleo said. ‘I’ve missed you both.’
A few days away sounded lovely, Trish said, and muttered about how she’d love a weekend away and now that her other plans had fal en through, she’d nothing planned. ‘What other plans?’ asked Cleo.
‘Carol mentioned she and some friends were going to Tunisia in September but when I asked her about it the other day, she said she’d changed her mind. She’s so unreliable.’ Cleo, who remembered the time she’d met Carol and had to endure watching her flirt with Tyler, was proud that she didn’t make any of the smart remarks she could have made. ‘We could go away somewhere at the end of the year,’ Cleo suggested. ‘Or,’ she decided she’d tel Trish what had been on her mind for the past few days,
‘we could go abroad for a month’s holiday. I was thinking of Australia. I know you’d love to go and we deserve it.’
‘Oh, wow!’ squealed Trish excitedly. ‘Wow! But like, what about your mum and dad’s plans for the French B & B?
Won’t you be helping them out?’
Cleo’s parents had discussed the idea of starting a B & B
in France, but Cleo had decided that she’d be intruding on their retirement if she joined in. After years of being at everyone’s beck and cal , Mum and Dad wanted time on their own. And now Cleo must move on too. She’d grown up.
‘Could you get the leave from Cloud’s Hil ?’ Trish added. ‘I’l have to beg to get a month off here, but I’ve holidays due.’ ‘I can,’ Cleo said. ‘It’s not as if I’m tied down in any way, so why not?’
And if she wasn’t around the Wil ow for the next month her heart might have healed a little. That way, she’d cope better when she got back and had to watch her old home being turned into a Roth Hotel, while she forever remembered what might have been with Tyler.
‘Fantastic!’ squealed Trish. ‘I’l come down and celebrate.
A month’s holiday. Yahoo! You phone Eileen and I’l locate my party dress! The floordrobe’s getting worse and I can’t find a thing!’
A night out partying with Trish and Eileen the day before she flew to France had not been on Cleo’s list of must-do things, but it might be good for her, she decided. Al she’d planned was a quiet night in her room.
Eileen was delighted to hear that Trish was coming to town to party.
‘Haven’t seen her for weeks,’ Eileen said. ‘Bet I know what we’re celebrating too! You’re a dark horse, Cleo Malin.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Cleo.
‘Six foot something of al man?’ teased Eileen. ‘You know.’
‘No,’ insisted Cleo. ‘What are you on about?’ ‘Tyler Roth is in town,’ Eileen said in exasperation.
‘Tyler? You saw him?’
‘You didn’t know? I thought he was here to see you and we were al going out to be introduced to him properly, minus the whole fal ing-over-in-the-street with the crowd of drunks watching.’
‘I wish,’ said Cleo before she could help it.
‘You haven’t seen him?’
‘The combination of me storming out of his suite, and Ron tel ing him that I was outraged at some dastardly hotel group buying the Wil ow means that I am probably not his favourite person in the whole world,’ Cleo said morosely.
‘But he went looking for you?’ Eileen said simply. ‘And he could have found me and he didn’t,’ Cleo replied. That was the painful truth. Tyler had tracked her down to Trish’s house and had discovered she was a Malin of Carrickwel .
So it wouldn’t have been too hard to find her in person.
Except he hadn’t bothered.
‘You should find him then,’ Eileen said matter of factly. ‘I …
but…’ Cleo faltered. She’d never thought of that, but she couldn’t. Men went after women and told them they loved them. That was how it was done. She’d read about it often enough. ‘It’s up to him,’ she muttered.
‘Why?’
‘Because it is!’
‘Because it is in al those daft books you read where the guy leaps onto his white charger and finds the maiden, who faints at his feet,’ Eileen raged. ‘Give me strength, Cleo!
You’re the independent woman who has twice as much brain, drive and ambition as any man, so why go al girlie and act like a daft bodice-ripping heroine when it comes to something you real y want?’
Cleo was shocked into silence. Eileen was normal y such a laid-back person. What had brought this on?
‘Find him and tel him you’re crazy about him. What’s difficult about that?’
Put that way, it wasn’t difficult at al . But what if his eyes hardened when he looked at her and he told her she’d had her chance? Cleo thought she could deal with thinking Tyler despised her if she didn’t have to actual y witness it. ‘But where … ?’
‘At the Wil ow, you big moron,’ snapped Eileen. ‘Or if he’s not there, they might know where he is. Or ask in Mo’s.
Carrickwel ’s not that big. I promise you, Cleo, I am not going out with you tonight unless you’ve made an effort to talk to Tyler. Don’t be a wimp. What’s the worst that can happen?’ ‘He could be disgusted with me, or say I never gave him a chance and jumped to conclusions, and make me feel an inch high,’ Cleo muttered.