Free Mrs. Pargeter's Pound of Flesh by Simon Brett Page B

then?'
    'The worst,' he said, 'the absolute worst – the thing that'd really make me divorce her on the spot and never see her again – would be if . . .'
    'Yes?'
    'If I found she'd gone and joined the police.'
    'Ah. Yes. Well, of course.'
    Somehow, Mrs Pargeter didn't think she was going to get much stimulus to her thinking about Jenny Hargreaves's job from Gary.
    On her return to Brotherton Hall, she bumped into an ecstatic Kim Thurrock – or it might be more accurate to say an ecstatic Kim Thurrock bumped into her. Kim was rushing from the gym, where she'd spent an hour increasing her weight-training circuits and repetitions, to the swimming-pool, where she still had thirty lengths to complete.
    The cause of her ecstasy was quickly revealed. 'I didn't see you this morning. Do you know, Melita, at the Seven-Thirty Weigh-In, I'd lost another ounce and a half!'
    Mrs Pargeter uttered suitable expressions of amazement.
    'I mean, I really do feel thinner. Don't you reckon I look thinner!'
    Kim stood sideways, holding her tummy in, for her friend's appraisal.
    Mrs Pargeter found it difficult to come up with an opinion. She'd never given much thought to Kim Thurrock's figure – it has always seemed perfectly all right to her – so she had difficulty judging to what extent (if any) it had changed.
    And Kim's now-permanent uniform of Mind Over Fatty Matter leotard and leggings (oh yes, and presumably exercise bra) didn't make assessment any easier. The patterns on the garments looked wonderful on Sue Fisher herself, and on her team of aerobic robots, but then presumably they had the kind of bodies that would look good in bin-liners. On ordinary bodies, like Kim Thurrock's, however, the pattern seemed to have a different effect; almost as if it had been expressly designed to accentuate any minor bulges.
    As she learned more about the Mind Over Fatty Matter approach to marketing, Mrs Pargeter found this conjecture increasingly plausible. It would be in character for Sue Fisher to promote garments which actually made people look fatter. They would preserve that all-important distance between the ideal and the reality, encourage her punters' basic dislike of their own bodies, and ensure that they bought even more Mind Over Fatty Matter products to make up for their shortcomings.
    'You look very nice, Kim love,' said Mrs Pargeter comfortingly.
    ' Nice ' Kim Thurrock echoed. 'But do I look thin ?'
    What did the truth matter under such circumstances? 'Very thin, love,' Mrs Pargeter reassured her.
    'Oh, good.' But Kim still looked uncertain.
    'Really terrific. I bet you're learning to love that body of yours now, aren't you, love?'
    'Good heavens, no ! I'm still such a mess. There's still so much to do.'
    So the Mind Over Fatty Matter programmed of stimulating feelings of inadequacy was still doing its stuff.
    'But do you know the other wonderful thing that happened today?' Kim asked.
    'No,' said Mrs Pargeter, who didn't.
    'I bought a prepublication copy of the Mind Over Fatty Matter Book of Warm Salads . . .'
    'Well, well . . .'
    'And do you know what?'
    'No,' said Mrs Pargeter, who didn't.
    'Sue Fisher actually signed it for me!'
    'I didn't know she was still here.'
    'Well, she certainly was this morning. And she's so generous. She signed books for practically everyone.'
    After they'd paid for them, Mrs Pargeter thought cynically. Curious, she asked, 'What did she write in yours?'
    ' "Keep trying, Kim!" ' her friend replied proudly.
    Clever. Never write 'Well done'. Never imply the process is complete. Because, of course, a slimmer who's achieved her goal is going to stop buying Mind Over Fatty Matter products, isn't she?
    'Anyway, I must dash. I've still got these thirty lengths to do,' Kim stopped suddenly solicitous. 'And how's your programme going, Melita?'
    'Programme?'
    'Yes. Fitness, slimming, you know . . .'
    'Ah. Well, I'm doing as much as the allergy allows me to,' she replied in a bravely martyred tone.
    'Oh, you do have