Chapter One
As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her
as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming
pool. She was used to it by now and had learned not to react, just to carry on
as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.
With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed
him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she
resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The
warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no
illusions—he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or
home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without
fail. But for now she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy and
wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knew she’d like him to.
It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely
aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could
no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet
under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise…nothing worked. Adele had grown
so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally she’d lost some
weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be
hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since she’d
resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.
Which was why she visited her local leisure center three
times a week. She used the gym and sauna and went swimming. And every single
time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years
she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun,
she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy
in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming
race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness
and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much
more polite than them.
Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles
carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her
legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at
the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached
the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It
was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through
the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any
speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to
note she’d beaten her previous time.
She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard
voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that had clearly forgotten how
well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.
“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the
pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of
these days.”
The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and
Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a
bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches underwater and drown them.
The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her
just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.
Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about
her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the
leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d
just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was
out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to
her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d
start anything—she didn’t want to add
As usual, Adele Blackthorne felt the weight of gazes on her
as she walked from the changing room to the steps to get into the swimming
pool. She was used to it by now and had learned not to react, just to carry on
as though she hadn’t noticed people staring and not-so-subtly pointing at her.
With a polite nod to Oliver, the lifeguard, as she passed
him, Adele was grateful for his much more favorable reaction. If he thought she
resembled a beached whale, he hid it much better than everyone else did. The
warmth in his eyes as he nodded back even looked genuine. But she had no
illusions—he probably slagged her off the moment he got into the staffroom, or
home, talking about the fat woman who went swimming three times a week without
fail. But for now she’d pretend he didn’t. Pretend he thought she was sexy and
wanted to get lost in her abundant curves. God knew she’d like him to.
It was true, she was a big girl and she was most definitely
aware of it. Ever since she’d gotten to the age where her excess weight could
no longer be called puppy fat, she’d tried to do something about it. Every diet
under the sun, ridiculous amounts of exercise…nothing worked. Adele had grown
so depressed in her teens that she’d become bulimic. Naturally she’d lost some
weight that way, but she’d also made herself so ill that she’d had to be
hospitalized. It had terrified the life out of her, and ever since she’d
resolved that she’d much rather be healthy than skinny.
Which was why she visited her local leisure center three
times a week. She used the gym and sauna and went swimming. And every single
time she went, she’d catch someone gawping at her. But because of the years
she’d spent—especially at school—being called all the names under the sun,
she’d developed an incredibly thick skin. She was happy and healthy—so healthy
in fact that she could probably beat all of those skinny bitches at a swimming
race. Of course she never offered, never called anyone out on their rudeness
and ignorance, but it made her feel better to know that she was fitter and much
more polite than them.
Slipping into the fast lane, she settled her goggles
carefully into position—she hated getting water in her eyes—then lifted her
legs to rest the bottoms of her feet against the end of the pool. Looking at
the clock on the wall that counted seconds, she waited until the hand reached
the top, then pushed off from the side and launched herself into the lane. It
was quiet, so she had this section of the pool to herself. Her arms cut through
the water, her legs flapped wildly and she did ten laps without losing any
speed. Emerging from the water, she checked the clock again and was pleased to
note she’d beaten her previous time.
She was just about to start another ten laps, when she heard
voices from the other side of the pool. Voices that had clearly forgotten how
well they carried on water. It was as though they were right next to her.
“God, I’m surprised all the water doesn’t jump out of the
pool when she gets in. And the way she swims—she’ll cause a tidal wave one of
these days.”
The spiteful words were followed by a trio of sniggers, and
Adele gritted her teeth. Part of her wished that she could create a
bloody tidal wave, so it would sweep those bitches underwater and drown them.
The other part of her tsked at the thought. Ideas like that made her
just as bad as them, just as unpleasant, just as cowardly.
Because they were cowardly—the way they spoke about
her behind her back proved that. If they ever passed her somewhere in the
leisure center or its car park, they never said anything, not one word. They’d
just scurry away as fast as they could, then titter when they thought she was
out of earshot. She hoped that just one time, someone would say something to
her face, so she could retaliate, speak up for herself. There was no way she’d
start anything—she didn’t want to add
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