My Pear-Shaped Life: The most gripping and heartfelt page-turner of 2020!

by Harrington, Carmel

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You told me that the embarrassment of falling asleep on the flight was crippling. You also said it scared you.’

  ‘It did.’

  ‘Then why did you risk taking a tablet while you were in the bath?’

  ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Stop lying to yourself.’

  ‘Do you think I wanted my dad, my brothers to see my naked, fat body, sprawled across the bathroom floor. Do you think I wanted that?’

  ‘No. But I don’t think you’d even thought that far ahead. I think that while you lay in the bath popping pills, something else was going through your mind. And there can be no more hiding from it. Look it squarely in the eye, Greta.’

  Greta closed her eyes and thought of the damn fly and the nursery rhyme that she had said over and over again. She opened her eyes and looked at Noreen straight on. ‘I thought that perhaps I would die and that, if I did, it mightn’t be such a bad thing.’

  ‘And now?’

  Greta thought about the hell on earth she’d been through since she arrived at Hope Crossing. And how she’d pleaded with God to let her die; anything than face this head-on. But she also thought about her family. And the joy she got from acting. Her friends … Dylan.

  She looked into Noreen’s eyes and said firmly, ‘Now, I want to live.’

  All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid.

  The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum

  Part Three

  Chapter 13

  Greta looked at the house she’d toddled her first steps in.

  ‘We have to go in now, don’t we?’

  ‘We do. Or your mam will send out a search party.’ Ray moved closer and whispered, ‘But remember that I’ve got you.’

  ‘I know.’ She reached over to hold his hand, for a moment, in thanks.

  For every time her Uncle Ray walked behind her, ready to catch her if she faltered. And for collecting her from the centre today. Stephen was still smarting from the family therapy and Emily had all sorts of wardrobe dilemmas about what one should wear to collect a recovering addict. It was easier to let Uncle Ray do it.

  ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Of what’s on the other side of that door. The expectation that I’m fixed now.’

  ‘Your family love you and just want you to be OK,’ Ray said.

  ‘I know that. What I don’t know is what happens next.’

  ‘You can work that out as you go along. None of us have all the answers. For now, start with what you do know.’

  ‘I know I don’t want to go back to how things were before.’

  ‘Well that’s something. Concentrate on that. Think of the next few weeks as a holiday, a career break, a hiatus if you will. Give yourself some time to work out what does happen next.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right, I suppose. But if I win the lottery, I’m off to Las Vegas to see Dr Gale.’

  ‘If you win the lotto you’d better take me with you. I’ll carry the cases!’ Ray joked.

  ‘Wouldn’t go without you,’ Greta replied, with a smile.

  ‘Why do you love her so much? The doctor?’ Ray asked.

  ‘She’s living her best life. It’s comforting to know at least one Greta Gale in the world is! One day, I’d like to say I’m doing the same. She gives me hope, Uncle Ray. I know you all think I’m mad, loving her like I do. And it’s hard to describe, but there’s been times when I’ve felt like I’m in the dark, on my own. And Dr Gale is a light, a beacon, helping me see the road ahead.’

  ‘We all need hope in our lives,’ Ray said.

  The ground felt shaky beneath Greta’s feet as she walked through the front door. She was home.

  The only thing was, it didn’t feel like home any more. She felt out of place, awkward, as if she no longer belonged in their three-bedroom semi-detached red brick. Greta knew it was only her mind playing tricks, but it seemed smaller somehow. Then the whiff of bleach and Mr Sheen furniture polish hit her. A smell that unleashed uncountable memories from her childhood, of her mam cleaning down the counter tops, dusting the TV, picking up toys from the floor. And in an instant it felt like home again. The hum of chatter silenced as she walked into the kitchen.

  Greta looked at the faces of her family. A mixture of expectation, hope and fear on each of them. And Greta felt her heart give a little. They didn’t know what to expect from this homecoming, any more than she did.

  ‘Hello.’ She felt shy in the way you do when you’ve not seen someone for a while, and you know you’ve changed. Not just physically. But from the inside out.

  ‘You look like the old Greta,’ Emily whispered as she took in the changes in her daughter. Her hair, shiny and pulled back tight into a ponytail. Her face, without make-up, with skin bright and unblemished, eyes no longer bloodshot.

  ‘Almost back to your old self,’ Stephen agreed. ‘I can’t get over it. You’ve lost so much weight. Just brilliant.’

  So much about this comment worried Greta. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be the old Greta any more. She wanted her dad to know that she was changed in more ways than just her waist size, which was still considerable.

  Before she left the centre that morning, Greta had one last physical check-up.

  ‘Jump on the scales again, good woman,’ Caroline said.

  Greta did as she was told and once again turned her eyes away. ‘I swear if you shout out that I’m an even 300 pounds now, I’ll batter you to death with your stethoscope.’

  ‘That’s what I love about you, Greta Gale. That lovely placid manner of yours.’ Caroline peered at the scales. ‘So you want to know then?’

  ‘Just tell me the number or you’ll see my lovely placid manner in full force!’ Greta said with a smile.

  ‘You’re 229 pounds. You’ve lost twenty-one pounds! One for each day here. How’s that?’

  Greta was staggered by the result. She’d never lost that much weight on any diet before.

  In this very room, three weeks previously, Greta had pinched herself hard in order not to cry. She hadn’t wanted to give Caroline the satisfaction of seeing her weak. But since then, she’d cried, she’d screamed, and occasionally she’d laughed. Caroline had seen her at her worst. Once again, tears filled her eyes, but this time it was different. These were good tears, the ones that showed how grateful she was for this experience, happy that she had somehow come out the other side.

  ‘Greta?’ Emily shouted.

  Greta blinked away the memory and looked at her mam. ‘Sorry, Mam, what did you say?’

  ‘How do you feel, love?’

  ‘I feel good, Mam. Really good.’

  Emily blessed herself and rushed towards her daughter, pulling her into her embrace.

  Greta sank into her arms and, as they held on to each other, cracks in their relationship began to knit together.

  ‘Nice sign,’ Greta said, looking over her mother’s shoulders. A banner hung over the mantelpiece that said, ‘Welcome Home.’

  ‘Hey G,’ Aidan said. Ciaran punched him on his arm, making him yelp. ‘Sorry! I meant to say Greta!’

  ‘Hey, you two,’ Greta replied.

  They stepped closer towards her and made a half-effort attempt at hugging her.

  ‘Are you not sick of putting those on for me yet?’ she joked, pointing to the good shirts they were once again wearing.

  ‘Mam made us. She wouldn’t have made this much fuss if the queen were coming.’

  ‘Change into your trackies. I’m certainly no queen.’

  ‘Open the bubbly.’ Emily pushed Stephen towards the fridge, as she wiped her eyes with a tea towel that always seemed to be in her hand whenever she was in the kitchen.

  ‘It’s the good stuff. I got it from the off-licence, not the supermarket,’ Stephen said as he peeled the foil off t
he bottle. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with the supermarket stuff. As good as any. But your mother wanted you to have the best. We both did.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. That’s really kind of you. But I’ll just have a soft drink for now. Or maybe a cup of tea,’ Greta said, as the cork popped and the sound of fizz filled the air.

  ‘What did she say?’ Emily mopped up the escaped bubbles with the tea towel.

  ‘She said she wanted a cup of tea,’ Stephen replied.

  They both turned to look at their daughter in shock.

  ‘I’m not going to drink for a while.’ This declaration from Greta was met with stunned silence.

  ‘But I thought it was the pills that were her problem. She’s not an alcoholic too, is she?’ Stephen asked Emily, puzzled.

  ‘No, Dad. I’m not an alcoholic. But alcohol could be a trigger for me, so it’s safer if I avoid it for a while. Just to make sure I don’t go rushing for the pills again.’

  ‘Put it away, put it away!’ Emily screamed, as if the mere look of the bottle was going to send her daughter back to rehab. Then she blessed herself for good measure.

  ‘Will I pour it down the sink?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’

  Greta and Emily shouted conflicting instructions at the same time.

  Greta repeated, ‘There’s no need to throw it out. I’d rather you all have a drink. Especially as it’s the good stuff.’ But her words fell on deaf ears as her parents began discussing what they should do next.

  ‘We should have thought about this,’ Emily hissed. ‘But it wasn’t in any of the leaflets I got down at Doctor Hanrahan’s.’

  Emily began to pull bottles of wine out of the wine rack that sat on top of the fridge. ‘Help me,’ she ordered Stephen. ‘And Ciaran, get your beers from the fridge too while you’re at it. Oh Lord above, I put a good slurp of sherry into the trifle I made for dessert. Will I throw that out too? It’s a minefield.’

  Greta looked at them both in horror. ‘Would you stop! I’m not going to go on an alcoholic binge, for goodness’ sake! I’ve never been a big drinker, and I’m not going to take it up now. I just want to avoid it for a bit, that’s all. But I insist that you all have one. Honestly, it doesn’t bother me.’

  ‘I’ll make you a coffee.’ Emily started to fill the kettle, ‘I’ve got Nescafé Gold in.’

  ‘I’d prefer water, Mam,’ Greta said. ‘I’m trying to avoid caffeine too.’

  This news nearly threw her mother over the edge.

  She looked over at Uncle Ray, pleading him with her eyes to step in. He took the bottle from his brother’s hands. ‘Let’s not be drastic. Greta has said it’s fine to drink the champagne, so I think that’s what we should do. I for one could do with a strong drink.’ He poured a small glass for each of them, then put some water into a glass for Greta.

  ‘I think it’s time you made that toast you’ve been planning,’ Uncle Ray said to Stephen.

  When he didn’t speak straight away, Greta said, ‘I’d like to hear it, Dad. Honestly.’ In truth she would have quite liked to sit in front of the TV and have the pleasure of a much-missed Netflix and Amazon Prime binge.

  ‘We are so happy to have you back home where you belong. The house has not been the same without you. It’s when something disappears from your life that you truly appreciate it. We’re glad you’re back. Welcome home … G … that is, welcome home, Greta.’

  One by one her family clinked glasses, chiming, ‘Welcome home, Greta.’

  Stephen looked at how pale his daughter was. She looked about fourteen again and so very fragile. When she was a little girl, and the chain fell off her bike, she ran to him, her daddy, to fix it for her. But something – a monster – had crept its way into their lives, into Greta’s world and theirs, and it was fierce. He wasn’t sure that the battle to chase it away was over yet. He prayed for the strength to fight for his family and for himself, to do the best for her. He knew he got it wrong by overdoing it on the lectures. He would do his best not to mention diets or running. His wish for Greta was simple – that she would find happiness.

  Emily looked at Greta and thought about the night that lay ahead of them and every one after that. It was all very well when she was in the treatment centre. She had made progress, and had even reached the heady milestone of sleeping for six hours in a row straight. But what if there was a secret stash of pills somewhere that they hadn’t found? And then what if Greta had a weak moment when she couldn’t sleep? The four of them, Stephen, the boys and herself had gone through the house looking into every nook and cranny. They hadn’t found anything, bar several pairs of Emily’s own reading glasses, which she had a habit of putting down and misplacing. As Emily raised her glass, she wished that her eldest child would find peace, that the monsters in her head would stay away.

  While Aidan was delighted his sister was home, he didn’t want to spend the afternoon looking at her. He’d promised the lads he’d join them for a game of snooker down at the pub later on. But when he glanced at his mam, it was as if she could read his mind. She shook her head, as if to say, ‘Don’t even think about it.’ So he wished for an escape route.

  Ciaran smiled at Greta as he raised his glass to her. He was sick of talking about nothing else but her addiction. The drama was relentless. They’d have to hope that she got on with living now. Then he let his head get back to the snog he’d had with Claire Brennan the previous night at the pub. And he wished that she’d be up for round two tonight.

  Ray watched his niece and saw how overwhelmed she was by the situation. He tried to put himself in her shoes and figured this moment, returning home to see them all, must feel very strange. Greta was the daughter he’d never had. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been the first to hold her, maybe it was because they ‘got’ each other. He thought about the conversation they’d had outside the front door.

  And he wished he could find a way to make her smile again.

  Chapter 14

  Days passed and became a week and Greta got used to being at home again. Her family began to relax around her. The car she had crashed in February was now fixed, thankfully not a write-off in the end. Next door’s garden looked almost back to normal. Ciaran was in love, and most of his sentences included a reference to Claire, his new beloved. She was coming for Sunday lunch at the end of the month. Emily and Stephen couldn’t wait to meet her. Emily had found a Yoga Nidra class locally. Greta and her attended it together, three times a week. And it wasn’t tortured; in fact, it was kind of nice. Emily felt like she was doing something useful and Greta continued to sleep at least five or six hours every night – without the need for the pills.

  There were several messages from Dylan. So she called him, holding her breath as the call connected. She wasn’t sure if Dylan would answer. They’d always texted or WhatsApped each other. But after what felt like an eternity, he answered.

  ‘Hi Dylan.’

  ‘Hhhello, Greta.’

  Greta had been practising how to tell him about her addiction, but every speech she’d made in her head sounded wrong. Would he want to be friends with her now? Surely that would be the final nail in the coffin of their friendship? A friendship that was so important to her.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve missed work,’ she said, sheepishly.

  ‘It’s fine.’ Dylan wanted to say so much more, but he knew the words were likely to get mixed up. So he left them where they were. When he heard her take a deep breath, then sigh, he touched his cheek, as if her breath had transported its way through the phone waves to him.

  Just tell him. If he’s a friend he’ll understand. Instead, Greta said, ‘This virus I contracted, it’s just taken a lot out of me.’

  Dylan believed her lie, without question. He wanted to meet for coffee, but Greta was reluctant. She knew she had to have a face-to-face chat with him, but she just wasn’t ready yet. He explained that the Murder Mystery Crew had taken on a new actress to cover her roles. But he promise
d that, as soon as a part opened up, she would be back on the crew again. This meant that she was now, officially, out of work. Her parents were not putting any pressure on her to find a job. They were just happy that she was in recovery. But that would change in time. She needed a plan.

  Greta was struggling with the transition from the regimental structure of the centre and life at home. She missed the camaraderie of the other patients. By the time she left, she’d grown to like many of them. She learned that while they had different stories and addictions, they were all facing the same struggle to make changes in their lives. She missed Caroline and Noreen too, which surprised her. When she surrendered control to them, she leaned on them. Greta wasn’t sure she could lean on her parents or brothers.

  It felt strange having so much time on her hands. When she was at the centre, the days were full. Greta thought, back then, that gaining control of the TV remote again would make her feel euphoric. But she couldn’t seem to find a single thing to watch. Just before she left the centre, Caroline had handed Greta’s contraband back to her. And Greta didn’t know what to do with it. She’d dropped her phone into her bag as if she’d been electrocuted. It felt weird to hold it in her hand. Greta realized something before the end of the first week in rehab. She was stunned to discover that she no longer wanted to check into social media. More than that, Greta felt relieved that she wasn’t doing so. Because, her relationship with her phone had become about checking up on what her peers were doing and comparing herself – unfavourably – to them. She watched fellow actors and actresses walking a red carpet at yet another premiere, sharing news of new parts on stage and onscreen. Each post was a reminder that not all people – on the internet at least – are equal.

  She lasted almost twenty-four hours at home, before she switched her phone and iPad back on again. Her brothers were at college, her dad at work and her mam at her slimming class. The solitude, something she craved in the past, now frightened her. She was scared to be alone. So her digital detox ended and Greta reacquainted herself with Dr Greta Gale. Maybe in finding her namesake again she could find herself.