“No, no, no, we cant have that can we?” A darting hand almost rived the cream bun from the fat woman’s clutches; she looked sheepishly at the floor.

“Any ideas why?”

She refused to answer.

“Look” Mali sighed, “How are we going to get through the harder situations in life if we have no self discipline with the simpler stuff?”

The lady looked up at him, “But I thought that….”

Mali’s shaking head cut her off “No Mrs. Dawson that’s my point you didn’t think, not for a moment and not for a second.” He smiled, the wryly kind that Mrs. Dawson didn’t like.

“Its just a cream bun, I’ve been good all week and having a small treat before going to the gym is okay, isn’t it? I’ll just burn it of wont I?” Her attempts at justification were falling on deaf ears. Mali’s attention was now drawn to the bag of sticky buns in her right hand. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her. Without words she offered up the bag, Mali dropped the confiscated bun into the bag then took the whole bag from her. “Well?” he glared at her.

“Sorry, it won’t happen again.” She was back to looking at the floor.

“Good!” Mali took a deep breath and slapped his washboard stomach, “That’s more like it, you need to be more positive, more…..” he searched for the right words “more in control, then maybe you will be happy with yourself like me!” he flexed his pecks and admired the slight response from her. “ Now run along and get changed and I’ll see you in five for some top fat busting techniques that’ll make you think twice the next time you pick up a sticky bun, okay?” She was gone, scurrying toward the changing rooms with a trifle more hate coursing her veins.

Mali made his way to his little office and placed the bag in his bin. Retrieving the afternoon schedule sheet from his desk he scanned the activities and smiled to himself; the well-being clinic had not known the world wind that had hit the place when he had got the job. Oh how he had shook the place up, made it a place for the strong-minded not the weak willed, true he’d had more drop-outs than previous employees but by far the worst drop out was that damn Clair Banks whom he likened to Dawson. She came here with her retched life and sloppy attitude probably in the hope that someone else would do the work for her. He had been more than average with Clair even giving her tips on how to improve the down right disgusting lifestyle and her appearance; she had taken more than her fair share of his time too, crying that this one said this and this one did that. The pinnacle was when she had made sexual suggestions. Relief was abundant when he was made aware of the news. No more of having to listen to her whine on about her sad little life and no more of that dog breath and vinegary sweaty odour coupled with the her sexual mustiness. Mali figured that the other people in her life would feel some relief too, except for the train driver whom unknowingly in Mali’s view had performed the world a service, but he would get over it. After all for train drivers, jumpers must be an occupational hazard.

“Right, lets get it together we haven’t got all day I’ve got a life to lead unlike you lot!” Mali Rubbed his hands together “We’ll start with some warm-ups to get the lungs working” he eyed the waving arm at the rear of the congregation “YES Mrs. Dawson what is it now.” She held her limb aloft leaving Mali wondering if she needed to visit the lavatory.

“Well,” she began nervously “ Seeing as it’s Clair’s first anniversary the girls and I have had a whip round and bought some flowers. We were wondering if you could place them on her grave on Friday?” There was silence in the room. Mali stared at Mrs. Dawson then slowly nodded. A clear but small droplet of water formed in the corner of his eye then rolled his cheek. Mrs. Dawson fidgeted “Are you okay Mr. Banks?”

“No” Mali said quietly “I miss my wife.”