Michele Gorman - The Curvy Girls Club

Two years earlier, when Nutritious pared back the whole company’s hours to four days a week, there was very little silver lining in that ominous thundercloud. But the company needed to save a lot of money or we wouldn’t have had any chance of keeping our jobs, and in the middle of a recession nobody felt much like arguing above a disgruntled whisper.

It didn’t actually have much of an impact on us salespeople, since most of our pay cheques came from commissions. So we just squeezed a bit more work into the remaining four days to keep the clients happy, and once again the company got more work out of us for less money.

Ellie survived a month of Jeremy Kyle before getting herself work at the café around the corner on her day off. She preferred getting paid to serve the down-and-outs to watching them for free on TV. Besides, she didn’t have sales commissions like the rest of us, so the cut in hours hurt.

I shared neither her urge to work nor her aversion to daytime telly, which, as the club business accelerated, was turning out to be a good thing. I started splitting my Tuesdays between the equally important tasks of napping, watching old films and club business. Invariably, though, I still had to make some calls from the office.

I’d just hung up with the river cruise people when Alex appeared beside my desk. ‘I’ve got something for you. Want to grab a coffee before my next meeting?’

Of course I did. Despite all my unsubtle hints, we hadn’t been to lunch again. Still, there was no doubt we were on more familiar terrain now.

‘I’ll need some caffeine,’ I said. ‘I’ve got my appraisal this afternoon.’

I was willing to make an exception to my no-caffeine rule to get me through that meeting.

When it came to my comfort and enjoyment, reviews were on par with smear tests. True, no tears had been shed during them in the entire six years I’d worked at Nutritious. Yet no matter how hard I worked, I’d never been more than Adequate. Five grades to choose from and my boss always put me in the middle. What kind of motivation was that? Adequate was a nice way of saying meh . It was so-so, a verbal shrug. They claimed it meant I was doing everything I was supposed to. It meant they had no complaints. Was it any wonder I always walked away with a sense of disappointment?

But today I was going to make my stand (not my normal modus operandi). I knew I was better than adequate. I just had to grow the meatballs to tell Cressida why.

Alex made me wait until our steaming takeaway cups were in hand before pulling a small white envelope from his jacket pocket.

Inside were two tickets for the orchestra at the weekend. ‘Wow, thank you!’

‘You mentioned that you like classical music, and there were some extra tickets going, so I thought …’ He grinned, watching my expression.

‘I’d love to, thanks!’ I nearly dropped my coffee as I lunged to hug him. It was an unusual feeling, and, being honest, slightly awkward. ‘I had no idea you liked the symphony. You never said.’ I added that to the list of his perfect man credentials.

‘That’s because I can’t stand it. I’d lose the will to live halfway through the performance. I thought you and Ellie could go. Like I said, we’ve got the extra tickets so someone may as well use them.’

Then this wasn’t a date. It was a nice gesture from a work colleague. ‘Well, thanks very much, I’m sure she’d love to. Really, this is very kind of you.’ I kept my voice bright to hide the disappointment that suddenly hit me.

How much longer was I prepared to let this stupid crush go on? Snap out of it, Katie. Perhaps it was time to heed six years of evidence that he’s not into you.

I’d got some perspective again by the time we reached the office. Alex had, after all, remembered that I liked classical music. And he had thought to give me the tickets. Those were the actions of a friend. So he wasn’t interested in me romantically. I could live with that. I had lived with that for over half a decade. And we were friends, of a sort. No, I wouldn’t call him to discuss weekend plans (although this was mainly because I didn’t have his phone number, not because I exercised any restraint), but we were friendly. It was time I let that be enough.

The office kitchen was abuzz an hour later when I went in to microwave my cooling coffee. A large dark chocolate cake sat on the table. Next to it was an envelope, scrawled with the invitation to Help yourselves you greedy sods . A few people had hacked into it, revealing layers of chocolate sponge held together with creamy cocoa icing. My mouth watered.

‘That looks delicious!’ I said to my colleagues. ‘Have you tried any?’

Mark and Matt both nodded.

‘I’m having seconds!’ said Stacy, our HR bod. Everyone called her Racy Stacy behind her back, thanks to her talent for seducing most of the men in the office. She stuck her finger into the slice she’d just cut, licking the icing off while Mark and Matt tried to calm their erections. ‘Mmm, I could swallow the whole thing.’

I had no doubt about that.

‘Are you having any?’ she asked me.

‘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.

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.’