Almost Perfect

EMMA WEBSTER IS PLOTTING REVENGE

It was on Tuesday that Vile Kate finally noticed the change in Emma. It had taken her a day longer than everyone else.

Kate had been in one of Her Meetings. These went on for a long time, were supposedly very difficult, and she pretended she found them A Terrible Chore, while at the same time dropping simpering hints about how Vital she was to the organisation, and how close she was to all the powerful people. When Kate walked in, she was talking to Arwel, the new researcher. ‘Honestly, she put down her Blackberry and gave me a big hug and told me how nice this perfume was. Do you like it? It’s very similar to something Posh wears.’

And then Kate looked at Emma. And noticed her. New, slim, gorgeous, perfect Emma. And her mouth formed a lovely little ‘oh’ and a frown. And for a glorious instant she looked like a sex doll. Emma grinned. Kate snapped on a warm smile. ‘Oh, Emma lovely, look at you! It’s so nice to see you making an effort in the office!’ She turned around to her colleagues with a fond look that said ‘See, everyone, what she can do when she tries!’ and settled down to work.

To Emma’s horror, everyone nodded at that.

I can give her cancer.

What?

I can give her cancer. Incurable, slow, painful cancer that burns away more steadily than your hate.

Emma’s head flooded with a sudden, delicious view of Vile Kate, sat at her desk, weeping and clutching clumps of hair that had fallen out.

No.

Really? Too much? Not even for a couple of weeks? How about a bit of a scare? Go on, the tiniest non-malignant lump. But, you know, worrying enough that they’ll chop off her boobs. Go on…

Emma shut her eyes and felt dizzy. She breathed in deeply and then out. And felt the red mist gently float away.

No. I hate her. But I don’t really know her. I don’t want to… maybe later. Is there anything small you can do?

Well, she’s had work done. Those boobs aren’t real, and her lips have had a bit of plumping. I can soon sort that out.

Really? Oh that’s brilliant.

And… I can make her fat.

Emma giggled, remembering all the little comments about struggling to bring up bebbies and maintain her figure.

Do it.

Nice one! I think you’ll love the results. And then some day you can dance on her grave while her fat children watch.

Emma smiled warmly and truly. A few minutes later some of the girls asked if she wanted to join them for lunch for the first time in ages. ‘You look really… confident,’ said one. And Emma beamed.

‘So how are you?’ asked Sharon. ‘We’re all dead impressed with your makeover. How are you feeling?’

Emma watched Kate walking over to the salad bar, laughing with one of the Divisional Sales Managers while ostentatiously picking out a few green leaves. ‘Perfect,’ she said.