‘Are you still playing rugby tomorrow?’ Alison asked Dave over their evening meal.

      He gave her a withering look as he scooped up a forkful of chilli and rice. ‘You know I am.’

      She speared a kidney bean with her fork and pushed a few grains of rice round the edge of her plate with it. ‘Do you think you’ll always play rugby?’

      ‘Oh yeah. I’m sure I’ll still be playing in my seventies cos it’s such a gentle game,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Perfect for old gits.’

      ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Alison protested. ‘It’s just that you loved rugby at school and college and you still play now, but I loved hockey just as much and I don’t play it anymore and—’

      ‘That’s because you’re too fat.’

      ‘Dave!’ She could have laughed it off if he’d said it jokingly, but his tone was cruel, just like when he’d talked about her in shorts or a bikini. If he was trying to hurt her, he was certainly succeeding.

      ‘What?’ He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth and showered bits of rice onto the table as he spoke. ‘You want me to lie and say that you’re curvy or cuddly instead? You were when we met but you’re not now. You’re a right chubba now.’ He took a swig of his lager. ‘You’re not thinking of joining a hockey club again, are you? Jesus, Ali, they’d need an ambulance on standby. Imagine if you fell on one of the lasses in a bad tackle. You’d crush them. Unless you bounced.’ He laughed loudly. ‘Oh, what an image that is.’

      ‘It’s not funny.’

      ‘It is. You bouncing around the hockey pitch? Boing, boing.’

      She stared at him, open-mouthed.

      ‘Come on, Ali. What’s wrong with you? You used to have a sense of humour.’

      ‘And so did you.’ Alison pushed her barely-touched plate of chilli aside and stood up. ‘I’m going next door. I’m babysitting for Eden.’

      ‘You’ve hardly touched your tea.’

      ‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ she snapped. ‘After all, a chubba like me has plenty of fat reserves to keep me going.’ She stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed her bag from the hall, and slammed the front door.

      Standing on the doorstep, she shook with rage. How could he possibly think he was being funny? She used to laugh at comments about her weight. She’d giggle senselessly and tell him he was hilarious. She’d even made jokes herself. It wasn’t funny anymore, though, and he’d definitely crossed a line this evening. Had he crossed it long ago and she’d never realised? Had her absolute devotion and adoration of him helped create the man he’d become? A man who thought fat-shaming was funny? A man who, as Chelsea had quite rightly pointed out, didn’t treat her well?

      ‘I couldn’t remember whether you were going out at seven or half past,’ Alison said when Rachel answered the door at ten to seven, though she knew full well it was the latter.

      Rachel smiled. ‘Half past but feel free to make yourself at home while I finish getting ready.’ She opened the lounge door then called up the stairs, ‘Eden! Alison’s here.’

      Alison heard a door open and footsteps on the stairs. Eden had recently turned twelve and was nearly as tall as Alison, but she wasn’t averse to a bear hug. ‘Our Karen says you’re starting her new bootcamp,’ Eden said, hurling herself at Alison.

      ‘Yeah, but I’m not sure it was a good idea.’

      Eden let go and pulled Alison over to the sofa. ‘Why not?’

      Biting her lip, Alison hesitated. She’d always been careful not to put herself down in front of Eden, not wanting her to be affected by hang-ups over body image at such an impressionable age. ‘I’m not very fit,’ she said eventually. ‘I couldn’t even run for a bus.’

      ‘Isn’t that, like, the point of bootcamp? To get you fit and help you run?’

      Alison shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

      ‘Totes! I bet you a new lipstick that, in two months’ time, my sister will have you running at least half a mile. Maybe even a mile.’ Eden held out her fist towards Alison who laughed and bumped it with her own. A twelve-year-old girl supported and believed in her. Would Dave? Highly unlikely, considering his cruel comments earlier.

      As soon as Eden had settled in bed, Alison found herself replaying the ugly scene with Dave and the doubts set in. Damn him! She reached for her phone. She’d felt guilty that she hadn’t taken Sarah up on her offer of support but there was no time like the present. Right now, she needed it.

      ✉︎ To Sarah

      Sorry I haven’t been in touch since the chocolate amnesty. My willpower didn’t make it to the end of that day. Thought you might like to know that I’ve signed up to a bootcamp starting on Tuesday. Not sure what possessed me and panicking I can’t do it but I’ve paid my money so bring it on! Xx

      Sarah rang moments later.

      ‘Oh my God! Bootcamp? I am so excited for you. Tell me more.’

      So Alison did and, as she chatted, she realised that she was excited too. This was new. It was different. It was exciting.

      ‘If I can lose weight, so can you,’ Sarah said. ‘Repeat after me, “I can do it!”’

      ‘I can do it.’

      ‘And now say it as though you actually believe it.’

      ‘I can do it!’

      ‘Again. Louder.’

      ‘I CAN DO IT!’

      Sarah laughed. ‘Yes, you can. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’

      When Rachel returned, they chatted over coffee and she was just as supportive as Eden and Sarah had been. Alison left the house on a high but, as soon as she stepped onto her own doorstep, she felt the positive energy slipping away and running down the street. He was going to ruin it. He’d have a field day talking about her starting a tsunami by running along the beach or something equally nasty. She hated the thought of keeping secrets but she wasn’t going to tell him about bootcamp. Why give him the ammunition? He’d find out eventually but, for now, she’d keep it quiet.

      Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the front door and tiptoed up the stairs. Dave was in bed and his breathing was deep and regular. Asleep. Phew!

      Getting ready for bed as quietly as she could, Alison crept under the duvet, taking care not to knock into him.

      ‘You went to Rachel’s half an hour early,’ he said.

      Damn! Awake. ‘How do you know that?’

      ‘It was on the calendar.’

      ‘Oh.’ Since when had Dave ever paid any attention to what was written on the kitchen calendar?

      Silence.

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