The Curvy Girls Club Read online

  ‘Oh, no thanks. I’ve got my cappuccino here.’ I waved my unsatisfying-by-comparison drink, determined to practise what I preached since quitting Slimming Zone. ‘That’s my treat for the day.’ Moderate Katie, that was me.

  ‘You’re doing it right,’ she said. ‘My cousin lost thirty pounds just by cutting out carbs. They’re really bad for you.’ She forked in another bite.

  ‘Exercise helps too,’ said Matt. ‘I can eat anything as long as I run. You should try running, Katie.’

  ‘Swimming is better,’ Mark said. ‘There’s less strain on the joints, so anyone can do it, regardless of their siz— fitness.’

  I smiled politely while my colleagues debated the best ways to slim me down, while shovelling in more cake. The fact that I hadn’t asked for their advice never occurred to them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I tried to calm my nerves as I walked towards the conference room, where Cressida waited with my employee file. She was an okay manager (some might say Adequate), and generally a nice lady.

  ‘Hey, all right?’ she said, smiling through the bright red lipstick she always wore. She was a fit woman of a certain age who’d been with Nutritious since it was founded twenty years ago. She was always impeccably presented. Her makeup never wore off, her hair stayed where it was supposed to and her chin didn’t sport the stubborn hairs the rest of us worried about when the sun shone.

  ‘How was the meeting yesterday?’ Cressida asked.

  Our company liked to keep us abreast of the latest ways to legally harass people. Everyone else had gone to the sales techniques meeting.

  ‘Tuesday is my day off, remember?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said vaguely. ‘I’ve been so tied up with reviews that I’ve been a total scatterbrain. So, you know the drill by now.’ I nodded. ‘We talk about how you’ve done these past six months … but first, there’s something else.’

  I waited.

  ‘As you know, the company has been doing everything it can to get through the downturn. Unfortunately our revenues have still fallen off, so we have to make some adjustments. I’m sure you can appreciate that these decisions aren’t easy, and I wish I was able to give you better news, but Katie, we need to ask you to go down to three days a week. But that does mean that you can have Fridays off!’

  She said this like she’d just given me a free holiday, not an unpaid one. I did a quick calculation to see if I could live on three days a week. I could, just about.

  ‘Is this permanent?’

  ‘Hopefully not!’ Cressida said, sounding relieved that I hadn’t burst into tears. ‘We’ll assess in a few months and if business has improved, we’ll look to bring people back on board.’

  Sure they would. That’s what they said after cutting our hours last time.

  ‘After all, productivity will be affected with the reduced hours, so we don’t want to make these cuts,’ she continued. ‘Don’t worry about that though, we’ll adjust your objectives accordingly. Do you have any questions?’

  ‘Yes, one. Does this affect all the staff like last time?’

  She shook her head. ‘Luckily we didn’t have to be that drastic, so we’re only forced to make some cuts.’

  In that case, actually I had two questions. ‘Why me?’

  ‘It’s nothing personal, Katie. We looked at everyone and had to make some difficult decisions. Now, if there are no more questions we can move on to your appraisal.’

  She waited to see if I’d object further. There wasn’t any point. Asking more questions, or complaining about the decision, wouldn’t change her mind.

  ‘How many others have lost a day?’

  ‘Around twenty.’

  That made me feel better. Misery did love a bit of company.

  ‘Is Ellie one of them?’

  ‘I can’t discuss other employees with you. But no, she’s not.’

  I nodded, happy for her at least.

  ‘I’ve no more questions.’

  ‘All right then, let’s continue,’ she said, clearly relieved to be back on solid ground. ‘How do you feel you’ve done these past six months?

  In the few moments before I answered I tried to calm my racing thoughts. In the lead was My Mortgage Payment, who always ran well in difficult conditions. Following closely behind came Why Me?, looking like a strong contender for the prize. But then on the inside rail, Day Off was making up ground, and Could Be Worse began passing the field on the outside. It was going to be a tight race.

  All right, Katie, old girl, enough daydreaming (nightmaring), concentrate on the question. Now’s your chance. Ignore the fact that you’ve just lost a day. You can do this; remember you’ve got the meatballs. Mmm, meatballs. My tummy rumbled.

  ‘I’ve done well.’

  Cressida’s face remained impassive.

  ‘I think I have. I mean, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to.’

  ‘You have.’ She nodded, speaking slowly. ‘Your performance is as good as it was last time round.’

  ‘No!’

  She jumped in her chair.

  ‘I mean, it’s better than last time. Look.’ I pointed to my last appraisal. ‘See here? My goal was to renew five client contracts. I renewed six. And here, I signed up two new accounts.’

  ‘How’s Jenny?’ she asked.

  I cringed at the thought of my nemesis. ‘No change,’ I admitted.

  Most people just put the phone down on me when they didn’t want to listen to my spiel. And they didn’t take my calls when I tried again. Not Jenny. She always took my call. They usually went something like this:

  Her (in her nasally Australian accent): Go ahead, I’ve got five minutes. What are you going to tell me that I haven’t heard before?

  Invariably I rose to the bait, launching into the features and claims about our newest products. I always listened to our weekly product briefings with Jenny in mind, optimistic that one day I’d win her over.

  Her, after listening in silence: And you claim this works? It sounds like another one of your gimmicks.

  I’d explain that they weren’t my gimmicks, that we had an entire team of scientists who developed the products. Then I’d point to all the studies that proved their efficacy. Our company armed us well like that.

  Her: You fund those studies. Of course they’re going to give you the results you want.

  We didn’t fund the studies, I’d explain (every time). They were independent studies.

  Her, changing tack: People today are just lazy. They’re happy to stuff pills down their gob instead of addressing the underlying issues.

  Me, breathing deeply through my gob: Our products are for people who need some help staying healthy.

  Her: Lazy people. Would you use this product?

  Me: Yes.

  Her: Then you’re one of the ones I’m talking about. Why would I buy from you? Clearly your company is only interested in shortcuts. Maintaining health is a lifelong process, not a quick fix.

  At which point the conversation would veer off into a philosophical debate about the psychology of our culture today. That’s the part I rather enjoyed, and the reason I wouldn’t give her up when Cressida asked if I wanted to take her off my list.

  ‘Jenny aside,’ Cressida said. ‘You’ve done very well with your prospects, though you haven’t quite met your client meeting target, have you?’

  ‘But I’m never allowed out to see clients. Clive doesn’t give me the new clients and you never approve travel expenses.’

  ‘It’s tough right now. Finance checks every expense.’ She looked sad to have to tell me this. ‘You know we have to look at each request based on the cost-benefit of the meeting. If one salesperson can see several clients in the same area, we have to do that. It’s a cost-efficiency decision.’

  It wasn’t, but I needed to stay on-point. ‘Then why am I being penalised for not meeting that target?’

  ‘You’re not penalised. Not at all. I’ve still given you Adequate on your client meeting
s, even though you haven’t hit the target.’

  ‘But it counts as a negative when I point out where I’ve exceeded the target.’

  Cressida sighed. ‘Katie. Your overall grade is based on your aggregate performance.’ She spoke as if to a dim-witted child. ‘In order to exceed expectations you mustn’t be behind in any of your goals. I’ve really given you a very good review, considering …’ She shifted in her chair. The mood changed suddenly. ‘There is just one thing we need to discuss.’

  I got the feeling I was about to find out why I’d been the lucky winner of another day off.

  ‘Our records show that you’ve been using company resources for your own personal use.’

  I racked my brains for something to say. ‘I, I might have taken a pen home, accidentally.’

  ‘I’m not talking about pens.’ She fished in her folder. ‘Your telephone records show a lot of personal calls.’ Dozens of phone numbers were circled in purple pen. They never used red pen these days, since the consultants came in last year and declared it to be a shouty colour. ‘These aren’t clients, and they’re not on the cold-call lists. Are you making personal calls from work? I don’t mean the odd call home to check your messages. This looks like much more. ’

  It was a rhetorical question. The evidence sat on the table between us. Is ignorance a valid self-defence? Your honour, it never occurred to me that these were crimes. Everyone made personal calls on company time. Like everyone took pens home (I had a stationery cupboard in my handbag).

  ‘I’m really sorry, Cressida, and I’m very embarrassed about this. I didn’t think it was a problem. And I didn’t realise I’d made quite so many calls. Of course I won’t do it again.’ Though I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep that promise. I’d have to find someone else to make the club calls on the days I worked. Maybe Pixie could do it. She was at home, though with her children and husband there, it wasn’t a very conducive work environment. Maybe Rob.

  Cressida smiled. ‘It’s fine. I just had to mention it, as your boss, that’s all. Really, don’t worry about it. It’s definitely not a big deal.’

  ‘Did it factor into your decision to cut my hours?’

  ‘No, not at all!’

  I exhaled with relief. ‘I feel really foolish.’

  ‘Please don’t. You’re right, everybody does it. It just got flagged up because there was a pattern. You know how the company likes its exception reports. Seriously, don’t think any more about it. Have you got any more questions about your review before we set your goals for the next six months?’

  I shook my head, feeling stupid for trying to argue my way out of the Adequate box. She took my final review from her folder and slid it over the table.

  Needs Improvement. My face burned. ‘But I thought you said it was no big deal?’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh, it’s not, believe me. We just had to put you there since the reports were flagged up. HR policy. But in reality it’s not an issue as long as you don’t turn up on any more reports. Your performance has been fine. Now, shall we talk about your goals?’

  She talked through the rest of the review, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I Needed Improvement.

  Alex’s email was waiting for me when I returned to my desk.

  You okay?

  Did you know about the cut in hours?

  Yes, I’m sorry. I couldn’t say anything until everyone was told. It’s a companywide decision. Hopefully it won’t mean a big cut in income as long as you keep up with your commissions. Seriously though, are you okay?

  I guess so, thanks. I’m trying to see it as a positive – I get an extra day off!

  That’s my girl. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.

  As I typed smiley faces in response, something occurred to me. Were those sympathetic symphony tickets he gave me, to cushion the blow?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Whether they were pity tickets or not, Ellie and I enjoyed the symphony tremendously. By the time the last note faded away I wasn’t thinking about my change in circumstances at all.

  But of course, being told you’ve been singled out for partial redundancy does prey on the mind, so after the concert I obsessed about it all weekend. Dress it up any way you like, it hurt to know I’d been singled out. Cressida had said it wasn’t because I Needed Improvement, but if not that, then why?

  Alex was at my desk when I got into work on Monday. He whisked me away to the coffee shop, his face creased with concern as we sipped our steaming drinks.

  ‘Will you fight it?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. I’d spent the weekend figuring out what I wanted, and how I might get it. When I told Alex, he smiled.

  ‘You’re a very sharp woman,’ he said, touching my hand as my tummy cartwheeled.

  Back at the office I put on my game face and told Cressida that if they insisted on taking work away from me, then I wanted my days off to be Thursday and Friday. Given that I was the one being underemployed, I reasoned, she should accommodate my wishes. Plus, it would be easier to find part-time work when I didn’t have to split my days. At the mention of another job, Cressida flinched and easily acquiesced. I was glad she felt guilty. She bloody well should, having given me the Judas kiss.

  Not that I had any plans to get a part-time job. Ellie worked through my budget with her Worst Case Scenario hat on and I’d still have just enough money with the pay cut. Besides, I had a better idea about what to do on those days. So I called our first official Curvy Girls Club meeting.

  A smattering of the regulars sat at stools along the bar in our local, while most of the booths were colonised by the trendsters who’d moved into the area in the past few years. As a quasi-local (four years in the neighbourhood), of course I pretended to commiserate with the pub landlord’s rants about the Uniqlo-clad newbies ruining the character of the place. But given that the estate at the end of my road was raided weekly and the strip club on the corner had to install blue lights outside to keep the addicts from shooting up on the property, I welcomed the fact that our new neighbours raised my property value and didn’t usually carry concealed weapons. And if the owner saw fit to use some of his windfall to replace the burgundy paisley carpet that still stank years after the last fag was puffed in there, all the better.

  ‘I have news,’ I said as Ellie and I returned to the booth with everyone’s drinks. ‘I’m down to three days a week at Nutritious. They’ve cut my hours again.’

  ‘Oh no, that’s terrible!’ Jane’s hands paused over her knitting. ‘Both of you?’

  Ellie shook her head.

  ‘Bastards.’ That was Pixie.

  ‘Well, it’s not completely bad news,’ I said, hoping that was true. ‘Looking on the bright side, it’ll free me up to do other things … like maybe work more on the Curvy Girls Club?’

  ‘Well of course, sweetheart, you can, but can you afford not to work that day? I mean not getting paid for doing it. I know doing the organising is a lot of work.’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing. Maybe I could get paid for doing it.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking and it is a lot of work to put the events together. So maybe it’s reasonable to charge a small booking fee – just a few quid to cover overheads. Rob designed the website and is running it for free. If we had a bit of money coming in then we could afford to pay for the time everyone puts into the club.’

  I watched my friends’ faces as they mulled this over. A little smile played around Ellie’s lips. She already knew of my proposal, of course. I’d told her as soon as I’d thought of it.

  ‘Then it would be a business?’ Jane asked, sounding uncertain.

  ‘Do we want it to be a business?’ asked Pixie.

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t, not really. But it does seem to be getting more popular, and I’m excited about where it could go. It’s been so fun, but I also feel like it’s important. I suppose we could just plan events as and when we’ve got time … It’s just that we’ve started something now. I really want to keep it going
.’

  ‘Me too,’ Pixie said. ‘These past few months have been great. Every time we go out I feel like I find a little piece of myself again. I can’t remember when I was so chuffed with my life. Sometimes I even forget about that bloody man at home. That’s worth more than a couple of quid to me.’

  We laughed at her statement, but I recognised the sad honesty in it. ‘Is he still trying to get into your knickers?’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. He’s bloody keen for someone who constantly tells me how fat and ugly I am. Last night he called me a … and I quote, a “shit-filled pig”. He was angry that we ate tea without him. As if I’d starve myself or the children just because he’s two hours late back from the pub. But he’s a walking contradiction. One minute he’s saying things like that, pointing out the fat rolls on my tummy or jiggling the backs of my arms, and the next he’s pointing his erection at me and telling me how much he loves me.’

  ‘Pixie, you can’t let him do that to you!’ Ellie said. ‘I mean making you feel bad about your weight, not the other thing.’

  ‘He’s not hurting me.’

  ‘Maybe not physically,’ I said. ‘But mentally he is. Ellie’s right. You can’t let him do that.’

  She sighed. ‘I pick my battles, love. He’d never dare lay a hand on me or the children. Believe me, that would be going too far.’ She chuckled. ‘And now I think I’ve got a way to keep him from laying anything on me …’ Her eyes glinted as she dug her mobile phone from her bag and scrolled through a few screens. ‘Look what I’ve just bought!’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Jane said, as we all looked at the photo. ‘Are you planning to wear that?’

  ‘I got three of them. They arrived in the post today. I’m going to try one tonight. Sexy, eh?’ She grinned wickedly.

  Pixie seemed to be suggesting wearing a puke-green, thick terrycloth onesie around the house as birth control. The one she showed us had a hood and feet and zipped up the front. She was right. I didn’t imagine Trevor would unzip that unless she was going into cardiac arrest.