of Art and Design? The same London design college where Stella McCartney went. And Matthew Williamson.
But she’d be like a baby elephant crashing around in such a trendy college where everyone was going to be thin and gorgeous.
‘It’s time to start believing in yourself,’ the lecturer toldher.
Lucy sighed. If only it were that easy.
Wednesday night was practice night in the cricket nets. A two-hour session to get ready for the season ahead. Truth be told, practice night consisted of half an hour of bowling practice and two hours getting drunk in the clubhouse afterwards.
Edward was trying to nurse his pint through the evening to stop himself having more than one but the ladskept buying him one round after another.
There hadn’t been time to cook dinner between leaving work and heading out, so he had grabbed a cheeseburger, fries and onion rings on the way. But now that the baskets of chicken and chips had arrived at the table, he still couldn’t stop himself tucking into the food.
The practice session hadn’t been great. His energy levels had slumped and he had beenbarely able to make the run-up when bowling. Which was hardly surprising when he was so tired these days he drove everywhere, unable to walk any distance at all.
‘Come on, big guy,’ said Mike. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Yeah, you big miserable bastard,’ said Pete, replacing the empty glass with a full one. ‘You been given six months to live?’
Edward rubbed his chest but smiled back at his friends.If only they knew.
Chapter Eight
VIOLET WAS QUAKING as she got dressed into the same black trouser suit as the previous day. She hadn’t worn a skirt since school. And there were no high heels in her closet. No skinny stiletto was going to support her tree-trunk legs. Just sensible black shoes.
She paired her suit with yet another black top. All her tops were black. Apparently, black was slimming. But nothing hidher double chin. Or her nerves.
She’d scoffed half a loaf of bread that morning, just to steady herself. The diet would have to wait for another day. Friday would be diet day. Thursday was going to be stressful enough without having to worry about food.
Sebastian had stayed over the previous night but had left before seven o’clock. He liked to hit the gym before starting work at some investmentbank in the town. She’d never quite understood what his job entailed. His work parties were a complete nightmare, full of braying men and skinny women all talking about their iPads and flash cars.
Violet lived only a couple of miles from the office but hadn’t contemplated walking. She never walked anywhere. It was far too exhausting. So she inched her way into town in the rush-hour traffic. Car-parkingspaces were a duel to the death at ten to nine in the morning but she finally found one and headed towards Mason & Mason.
She was quaking at the thought of the new job. New people to talk to. New people to stare at her and think she was some kind of fat freak. And as for Mark Harris … her stomach churned just thinking about seeing him every day.
She took a deep breath and went in. She was justabout to step up to the receptionist when a familiar voice spoke behind her.
‘So you decided to come back, I see.’
She turned round to face her new manager. He was grinning at her. Violet felt her cheeks grow warm as she flushed pink.
‘Come on then,’ he said.
She followed him as he walked towards the lift with a swagger in his step. She stayed silent in the lift, not wanting to say anythingwrong.
Once on the third floor, she followed Mark to the department. This was her new workplace. There was a group of four desks, one of which was empty. The desks were divided with a low partition.
Mark gestured at the only empty desk. ‘This is you. Feel welcome to get rid of anything personal that Felicity left behind. Rest assured, she took all her Peter Andre photos with her.’
Violet lookeddown at the desk. There was a huge
But she’d be like a baby elephant crashing around in such a trendy college where everyone was going to be thin and gorgeous.
‘It’s time to start believing in yourself,’ the lecturer toldher.
Lucy sighed. If only it were that easy.
Wednesday night was practice night in the cricket nets. A two-hour session to get ready for the season ahead. Truth be told, practice night consisted of half an hour of bowling practice and two hours getting drunk in the clubhouse afterwards.
Edward was trying to nurse his pint through the evening to stop himself having more than one but the ladskept buying him one round after another.
There hadn’t been time to cook dinner between leaving work and heading out, so he had grabbed a cheeseburger, fries and onion rings on the way. But now that the baskets of chicken and chips had arrived at the table, he still couldn’t stop himself tucking into the food.
The practice session hadn’t been great. His energy levels had slumped and he had beenbarely able to make the run-up when bowling. Which was hardly surprising when he was so tired these days he drove everywhere, unable to walk any distance at all.
‘Come on, big guy,’ said Mike. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Yeah, you big miserable bastard,’ said Pete, replacing the empty glass with a full one. ‘You been given six months to live?’
Edward rubbed his chest but smiled back at his friends.If only they knew.
Chapter Eight
VIOLET WAS QUAKING as she got dressed into the same black trouser suit as the previous day. She hadn’t worn a skirt since school. And there were no high heels in her closet. No skinny stiletto was going to support her tree-trunk legs. Just sensible black shoes.
She paired her suit with yet another black top. All her tops were black. Apparently, black was slimming. But nothing hidher double chin. Or her nerves.
She’d scoffed half a loaf of bread that morning, just to steady herself. The diet would have to wait for another day. Friday would be diet day. Thursday was going to be stressful enough without having to worry about food.
Sebastian had stayed over the previous night but had left before seven o’clock. He liked to hit the gym before starting work at some investmentbank in the town. She’d never quite understood what his job entailed. His work parties were a complete nightmare, full of braying men and skinny women all talking about their iPads and flash cars.
Violet lived only a couple of miles from the office but hadn’t contemplated walking. She never walked anywhere. It was far too exhausting. So she inched her way into town in the rush-hour traffic. Car-parkingspaces were a duel to the death at ten to nine in the morning but she finally found one and headed towards Mason & Mason.
She was quaking at the thought of the new job. New people to talk to. New people to stare at her and think she was some kind of fat freak. And as for Mark Harris … her stomach churned just thinking about seeing him every day.
She took a deep breath and went in. She was justabout to step up to the receptionist when a familiar voice spoke behind her.
‘So you decided to come back, I see.’
She turned round to face her new manager. He was grinning at her. Violet felt her cheeks grow warm as she flushed pink.
‘Come on then,’ he said.
She followed him as he walked towards the lift with a swagger in his step. She stayed silent in the lift, not wanting to say anythingwrong.
Once on the third floor, she followed Mark to the department. This was her new workplace. There was a group of four desks, one of which was empty. The desks were divided with a low partition.
Mark gestured at the only empty desk. ‘This is you. Feel welcome to get rid of anything personal that Felicity left behind. Rest assured, she took all her Peter Andre photos with her.’
Violet lookeddown at the desk. There was a huge
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