Free Paradise Fields by Katie Fforde

say.
    â€˜Don’t apologise. I expect I deserved it.’
    â€˜I wasn’t going to apologise. And you certainly deserved it.’
    â€˜It’s just you’re not in the usual run of women, you know.’
    â€˜No woman is “just in the usual run of women”, that’s a terrible thing to say,’ Nel retorted indignantly.
    â€˜You do seem to make me say terrible things. And I obviously have the same effect on you.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜You were going to tell me to – er – how shall I put it?’
    â€˜Don’t tempt me to help you out! See you in court!’
    As Nel made her way back through the now thinning crowds to Suzy she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. However hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Jake Demerand was not only the most attractive man she had met in years, he was one of the most attractive men she had met
ever
. And the fact that there was obviously some sort of spark between them was not helping. He was the enemy. She held him responsible for the building plans even more than she did his clients. He probably gave them the idea.
    â€˜I’d better go,’ said Nel when Vivian had been given a quip by quip account of her meeting the other evening with the chairman of the football team, aka Jake Demerand, over a hurried drink. ‘It’s the dreaded WW tonight, and I haven’t been since before Christmas. I’ve probably put on a stone.’
    Vivian yawned. ‘You’d have noticed your clothes getting tight if you had.’
    â€˜I think they’ve just stretched. I’ll give you a ring if anything of interest crops up.’
    â€˜
Anything
of interest,’ said Vivian. ‘Not just anything to do with the hospice or the farmers’ market.’
    â€˜They are closely linked, you know. The farmers’ market is a nice little earner for the hospice.’
    â€˜Oh, go away and torture yourself!’
    Thus, late, aware that the white wine she’d drunk might smell on her breath, and not wearing suitable light clothes, Nel fell into Weight Watchers just before the talk was due to start.
    Getting out her wallet, she searched for her card, finally finding it buried beneath all the other stuff in her handbag. She handed over a note, then, carryingeverything in one hand, she pulled off her boots with the other and went to the scales, where the leader was waiting. Then, throwing it all onto the floor, she said, ‘I’m terribly sorry, I just got all behind. Well, I’ve always been that, really . . .’ As usual at this nail-biting moment, Nel made pathetic jokes, as if low humour could somehow stave off the ghastly truth. ‘I haven’t been since before Christmas, but, then, you know that.’
    â€˜Never mind, you’re here now,’ said the young and lovely girl, who, rumour had it, had produced three children without adding a single pound to her svelte hips. ‘How did you cope with the festivities?’
    â€˜Well, to be honest, I didn’t think about dieting. I just ate whatever I wanted.’
    She stood on the scales, holding her stomach in and not breathing, in an attempt to make herself lighter.
    â€˜Well! That must be a first! You’ve lost two pounds! Do you know what you did?’
    Nel shrugged, delighted but mystified. ‘Just rushed around a lot, I expect.’
    â€˜Exercise.’ The group leader handed Nel back her card. ‘I’m always telling my ladies to get out there and exercise!’
    Nel smiled, taking the booklet which followed her card and picking up her boots. Would watching a football match count as exercise, she wondered? Or did you actually have to play it?
    Not wanting to hold up proceedings, Nel bought several boxes of Weight Watchers chocolate bars and piled them up under her chin, anxious to escape before the group leader made her feel obliged to stay for the talk. It wasn’t