I don’t start crying or sobbing when she nods, nor when she voices her thoughts.
Better out than in, I tell myself.
They’re no worse than the thoughts I once had.
I just look at Daisy who’s still sleeping and Eleanor starts begging me not to go out tonight.
‘I’m not going to leave you with Daisy.’ I tell her.
I’m not.
For all that everyone moans about the NHS, if you get a GP like Dr Carmody, you really have nothing to complain about. For forty minutes we are in there and we’ll be back again next week, I tell the receptionist, as I make the appointment and I thank her for getting Eleanor seen.
For the first time in six weeks we have a plan.
‘Eleanor has to be at my house at nine o’clock every school day,’ I tell Paul as we walk with Daisy to the slimming club. ‘And I don’t care if she just sits in the chair, Eleanor’s got to come. She’s on medication.’ Paul holds my hand over where I’m holding the pushchair as we walk. ‘Doctor Carmody is ringing around the mother and baby units but hopefully things will start to improve now.’
‘They will.’ He gives my hand a squeeze as we reach the centre.
‘We still haven’t been out on a proper date.’ I feel terrible for him I really do, it’s night-time feeds and nappies and I’m constantly exhausted.
‘We’re a couple with a new baby,’ Paul smiles as he looks at Daisy. ‘We’ll get a babysitter at the weekend, if you want to go out.’
‘I don’t mind not going out,’ I tell him. ‘I just feel bad for you.’
‘Gloria,’ he says. ‘I haven’t been this happy in a long time.’
He says the nicest things sometimes. ‘I really don’t want to get weighed,’ I admit. ‘I might not bother.’
‘Come on,’ says Paul and steers me in there. We line up in the queue. I bite my lip as she writes down my weight and then I get back my little book. I don’t look at it till I’ve sat down.
Paul’s lost one pound.
He doesn’t gloat.
I ask to see as I always do and when he shows me his, I show him mine.
Except, I’ve put on three pounds.
Imagine if I’d had that chicken?
The meeting starts. Beryl has a life-size cardboard cut out of her, from before she lost all her weight. She carts it around to all the meetings she holds in different venues and then, presumably, she takes it home. I could think of nothing worse than being reminded of how big I was, but it must work for her. She asks who’s had a loss and they get a gold star and then she asks if anyone has had a gain.
‘Three pounds.’
Normally I wouldn’t have answered. In fact, normally I wouldn’t have even shown up for the meeting.
Beryl goes through my food journal and we both know I’m lying, that I haven’t put everything I’ve eaten down.
‘What about exercise?’
‘I’ve got a six week old baby to look after.’
‘You have to make time for you, Gloria.’ Beryl says.
‘When?’
Beryl opens her mouth to give one of her long, convoluted answers, but I get in first. ‘I stopped to get chicken takeaway today,’ I tell her and I tell how badly I wanted it and how upset I was.
‘Did you ask yourself if you wanted that piece of chicken?’
‘I did,’ I say. ‘And, I did.’ Beryl purses her lips. ‘But a few minutes later it passed,’ I tell her. ‘I didn’t end up going in.’
I get a round of applause from the attendees and Beryl gives me a pat on the arm and yes, I’ve gained three pounds this week, but I’ve gained other things too. Like strength and knowledge and a plan for my daughter and a man who makes me smile.
‘I’m back on track,’ I tell Beryl.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Lucy
‘Mum! It’s Jess on the phone.’
I peel open my eyes and I try to orientate myself. It’s light and the clock by my bed says it’s six but I don't know if it's morning or night.
‘Tell her that I'll call her back.’ I go to pull the duvet back over my head and then I remember something about getting takeaway and I know that I have to get up.
I know that something has to give.
I’m finally Eleanor.
I’m lying in bed ignoring a kid whose father has died and I hate myself.
Maybe I should see my doctor but she knows about the Viagra. I just can't