part0025

And just to be clear, we’re talking about Rita, not Mother. No, Mother was nothing to do with me, her death was sheer coincidence and completely natural. A stroke, according to the post mortem; to be expected, apparently, in someone of Mother’s age with her medical history.

That’s not to say that the thought of murdering Mother never crossed my mind. It did. But only ever fleetingly, and in very low moments, because I’m not a murderer.

I just wanted to make Rita ill enough so that she’d stay off work so that I could take over her shifts at Bella’s. I knew that she had a peanut allergy but so did the whole world because she had to tell everyone , all of the time. But I thought she was exaggerating when she said the slightest trace could kill her, I didn’t think a tiny little smear would kill her and it didn’t, did it? And that’s all it was, a trace; the merest wipe of peanut oil on the inside of a bottle of water purchased from Foodco .

It was so ridiculously easy; I knew which bottles of water she always bought because she was always flashing them in everyone’s face (value range, six small bottles for fifty-nine pence). I bought some myself and then I just had to swap my bottle for hers– it was too easy. She always had at least two bottles rattling around in that humungous handbag and there’s no way she could see what I’d done because the value range only have normal screw on tops and you couldn’t even tell I’d opened it after I screwed it back on tightly. It’s not as if she was even looking, anyway.

The police were wrong about me doing it the first time that Rita took us to Bella’s though. The idea didn’t even occur to me until afterwards and then all I had to do was wait until the Friday when all of the cleaners went into the office to give in their timesheets. It’s always a bit of a crush and Rita would insist of leaving that stupid handbag of hers lying around, usually getting in everyone’s way and taking up one of the few chairs in the office. A quick scan of the room to make sure no one was looking at me and then I simply swapped my bottle for hers.

The police were right about me being at Bella’s last week when Rita was there cleaning; I was in and out of there in less than five minutes and the job was done. A bit unfortunate that Rita saw me from the window but it’s only her word against mine isn’t it? And she couldn’t have actually seen me go into the house if she was upstairs in the front bedroom, she must have only thought about it afterwards and put two and two together. I am surprised though, that she thought it was me, that she joined up the dots. I really didn’t think she was that bright.

Anyway, I’ve just remembered, as they say, that I was out running that morning so I may well have passed Bella’s house and not given it much thought at the time.

I do feel sorry about it though because I’m not a complete monster. I’m relieved that Rita’s okay and that there’s no long-term damage. I knew she was the sort that would never be far from her EpiPen. All the same, she might want to think about who she tells about her allergy in the future, might be best if she didn’t bang on about it to all and sundry because not everyone’s as nice as me.

Gerald’s been an absolute revelation; when he’s in solicitor mode he’s very impressive and much more attractive than when he’s blathering on endlessly and boringly in a social environment. I could quite fancy him when he’s getting me off a murder charge, he’s quite masterful.

The evidence was flimsy to say the least but of course I couldn’t see that in my state of panic. In fact, they didn’t have any evidence as such, but I have a feeling that the police thought I would crumble and incriminate myself– and I so nearly did. The only thing that still concerns me a bit is if Justin goes to the police about his laptop; things could get very sticky if that happens and I’m not sure how I could lie my way out of that.

It’s unlikely though; I’ve heard no more from the police since I was released and it’s over two weeks now, so I’m optimistic. I’ll just have to keep my fingers crossed that Justin doesn’t decide to try and prove his innocence. And I need to keep Gerald sweet too in case I need him to ride to the rescue again. Hopefully Justin will take his suspension from work like a man, do a bit of grovelling to Bella and everything will go back to how it was. I think it will; I’ve started to include Bella’s house on my daily running route and on the last two occasions as I went by I saw Justin’s car was parked on the driveway. So I think she’s going to take him back if she hasn’t done so already. She has a level of credit card debt that is frankly unmanageable on her salary so I’m sure she’ll forgive him. I thank my lucky stars that I didn’t put child porn on his laptop or the police definitely would be involved and then my carefully constructed house of lies would all come tumbling down.

I can look back on my actions dispassionately now, the way I’ve behaved seems very strange to me and if it did ever come to court I think I’d have to plead diminished responsibility. In other words: I went a bit mad. I couldn’t even explain why I did what I did to Justin, or what I hoped to achieve by it.

I suppose the years of caring for Mother took their toll. I’m not a psychologist but I think that my obsession with Bella was a way of changing myself and my life and that if it hadn’t been her I would have found someone else to fixate on and use as a role model.

I don’t consider that I’ve been cruel to Mother, I still looked after her even though I made sure she couldn’t come downstairs. She had her television and her magazines and cooked meals, all of the home comforts. I don’t feel guilty, and anyway nobody knows that she was basically a prisoner so that’s all fine. I was a prisoner for most of my life and definitely for the last ten years so is it any wonder I went a bit mad?

Luckily, no lasting damage has been done, to me, that is. Although I will have to be very careful in the future. Because I’m definitely not the person that I thought I was; I spent most of my life thinking I was weak and stupid because that’s what Mother kept telling me but of course I’m not like that at all. In fact, the things that I’m capable of are rather frightening so I’ve given myself a good talking to and made a promise that I’ll behave. I need to stop the lying too.

Unless it’s absolutely necessary of course.

Mother’s funeral hasn’t happened yet; some sort of backlog at the crematorium, too many people dying apparently. It’s going to be next Monday and Doris and Gerald have promised to come and support me which is really sweet of them. In a way it’s lucky that it’s been delayed because Doris had a week’s holiday booked in Marbella (y’know, on that little island, Spain I fink it’s called she said, I didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s not an island.) She wouldn’t have been back in time if the funeral had been any sooner. I gave her the green dress to take on holiday and she was delighted with it and says she’s going to wear it with her Primark wedges.

I’m still employed by Moppers but I’m on compassionate leave at the moment. I’ve decided I’m going to leave after the funeral but I’m not going to tell Veronica yet. I’m being paid full wages which is unusual but I know that’s only because Veronica feels guilty for dobbing me into the police as a murderer. Doris says Veronica looks very sheepish whenever my name is mentioned so I’ve told her to mention me at every opportunity to make her squirm.

Gerald has got over his initial shock at finding out that I’m a cleaner and is keen for me to get a job more suitable to my talents, he’s even offered to ask around his friends to see if they have anything suitable. He’s been visiting me a lot – I had to let him into the house so unfortunately, he’s seen the hideous seventies décor and horrific furniture – and he’s been very kind. He did have a funny look on his face when he saw the state of the place; he looked around as if I lived in a museum.

He also doesn’t know I used to be jumbo-sized and I’m certainly not going to tell him; there’s only so much truth he can cope with. I think the thought of me as hugely fat would be a step too far for him. No, I’ll keep that to myself I think, there’s no need for him to know. We haven’t progressed our relationship any further yet and he’s not pushing it as I’m still grieving, apparently. He’s being all gallant and has told me he’s prepared to wait until I’m ready . I think he’s quite enjoying his role as my hero. Also, he’s not used to having someone who doesn’t jump straight into bed with him though I’m sure the novelty will wear off once I sleep with him.

He’s going to help me put the house up for sale after the funeral and says I should get a really good price for it even though it needs completely updating. I’m going to buy myself a nice modern apartment and bank the rest of the money, which if I get what he thinks the house is worth will be a huge amount. Realistically, there’s no rush to get a job, I could have a few years off and do some travelling.

But I don’t think I will, I think I need to channel my energies into some sort of career; too much time on my hands and I could get into mischief and I don’t want to go down that road again.

Once I have a buyer I’m going to arrange for one of those house clearance companies to come in and clear the house. Apart from my clothes and laptop I’m getting rid of everything, the whole lot. I hate this house and I can’t wait to leave it. Maybe a young couple like those at number five will buy it and dispel the miserable ghosts of Mother and my grandparents and the old, fat me.

When Gerald brought me home from the police station I’m sure every curtain in the street was twitching. I decided the best form of defence was attack so I waited for a few days and then I strolled along to Dolph’s and knocked at his door. He was delighted to see me although he tried to hide it and looked all compassionate and caring, but I could practically hear the cogs of the rumour mill grinding around his brain. He took me indoors and plied me with tea and some horrible lemon pie that Brian had made and I sobbed convincingly on his kitchen table.

I told him everything, the truth actually, about how I’d been arrested and Mother had just died and how absolutely awful it all was and how it was all a huge mistake. I stopped short of suggesting police brutality (remembering my promise to myself to stop lying) but let’s just say that the police didn’t come out of it very well. Dolph was horrified and I was still there when Brian came home from work and he joined in being horrified. Dolph then insisted that I let him cut my hair for me, to make me feel better and he made a lovely job of it; I might even start using him now Mother’s not here.

Anyway, by the time I left, Dolph had all of the information that he needed to set everyone straight on what had really happened and I’m sure he lost no time in putting the word out. I have noticed over the last week that the neighbours are giving me friendly waves and saying hello instead of avoiding me or cutting me dead.

There’s just the funeral to get out of the way now; I can’t say that I’m looking forward to it and I did actually think do I really have to go? It’s not as if I need to be there is it? They could just shove her in the burner and dispense with the service as far as I’m concerned. If Doris and Gerald weren’t so insistent on coming then I really wouldn’t bother. I can’t pretend to myself that I care that Mother’s dead even though I’ll put on the pretence in front of others, which is a form of lying which I said I wouldn’t do but it’ll be the last time. Probably.

If I’m completely honest I’m relieved Mother’s dead, it means I can move on and start my life again, start to live my life how it should be. How it should have been except that now I’m quite rich.

So, all in all, life’s looking very positive and I have lots to look forward to. Funny, isn’t it? This time last year I was supersize and now I’m super fit. A chance sighting of Bella in Foodco changed my life which just seems incredible, doesn’t it?

And I’m free of Mother, which also seems incredible.

I feel quite affectionate towards Foodco although obviously I rarely shop there now; mostly I buy my food from Marks and Spencer. Although I did pop in there yesterday because M&S shut at eight and I was coming back from my run at about half-past-nine and I remembered I’d run out of raspberries for my breakfast. I popped in and was on my way to the till when the sound of laughter caught my attention.

Nasty, loud, mocking laughter and when I looked across the supermarket I saw that the laughter was coming from four teenage girls who looked to be about fifteen. They were all walking along in an exaggerated way, arms out to the side, legs bent with their heads down and shuffling along. Intrigued, I followed them and as I got a bit closer I could see there was a man in front of them. He was a bit younger than me but he was as fat, or maybe even fatter, than I used to be .

Those girls were mimicking him but the worst thing was that he knew it; I could tell by his ears, they were beetroot red. And they were getting closer and closer to him and they didn’t care that he knew they were laughing at him because he knew he was fair game because he was so huge. He was shuffling along in the way I used to; head down, eyes down, thinking it would somehow make him less visible.

I felt for him, I really did (see, I’m not a monster) and I wanted to help him. I wanted to tell him, look, just because you’re super fat it doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve politeness or respect, you’re still a person so put your head up and be proud of who you are and people won’t be so quick to laugh at you. Don’t apologise for existing.

But I knew he wouldn’t listen, the same way I wouldn’t have listened. If anyone had come up to me in Foodco and said things like that when I was fat I’d have thought they were making fun of me and trying to embarrass me. So what I did do was speed up a bit until I was right behind those four girls, and my little hand basket on wheels, those ones that I always thought looked so chic when other people pulled them? Well, I swung it around in front of me and somehow, I pushed it a bit too hard and it sort of went into the backs of their legs and the one on the end, the ringleader, she nearly fell over.

When they’d recovered themselves those four girls turned around and looked at me and they looked a spiteful lot; not afraid of anyone. I thought; they’ll start on me now but I can take it, you don’t frighten me.

‘Sorry,’ I said cheerfully, in a not sorry voice.

It was very strange. They all took a good, long look at me and then after a moment they looked at each other uncertainly and turned around and walked away.

I think I heard one of them say bitch , or it might have been witch .

And I thought, no, you’re wrong.

I’m fat girl slim .

Thank you so much for reading this book. I really do appreciate it. I am an Indie Author, not backed by a big publishing company, so every time a reader downloads one of my books, I am genuinely thrilled. I’ve worked hard to eliminate any typos and errors, but if you spot any, please let me know: marinajohnson2017@outlook.com

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