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

by Harrington, Carmel

  ‘Let’s go find a hotel for the night. Then tomorrow we can make our way to Cawker City,’ Ray said after a few minutes, jumping to his feet. He was ready for sleep, because the next day was going to be a big day for him, whatever the outcome.

  The great thing about road trips in the US was the large number of affordable hotels and motels every ten miles or so, located in the services. And there was always a chain of diners close by too. They had something to eat in a Denny’s diner, then checked into The Quality Inn, agreeing to meet the next morning at eight a.m.

  Greta flopped onto the bed, with her new clothes in piles around her, and decided to take her uncle’s advice. No more hiding from her friend. She wasn’t going to push him away; if he chose to go, then that would be on him.

  Greta: Hi Dylan. Sorry it took me so long to answer. We’re in Kansas still. We found Oz today and we’re trying to dodge flying monkeys as we speak.

  Dylan: Ha! It was the lollipop-wielding Munchkins that gave me the collywobbles when I was a kid.

  Greta: The collywobbles? Is that even a word?

  He responded with a screenshot of the Thesaurus of the word.

  Collywobbles

  1 intestinal cramps or other intestinal disturbances

  2 a feeling of fear, apprehension, or nervousness

  Laughing she answered with her own screenshot.

  Weirdo

  1 an odd, eccentric, or unconventional person

  2 a psychopath, especially a dangerous or vicious one; psycho

  As Greta lay in her queen-sized bed, she flicked through what felt like hundreds of channels. She found an episode of Oprah and couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the guest – it was Dr Gale. Complete with her trademark glossy, shiny hair and big Hollywood smile, she made Greta feel scruffy just looking at her. Dr Gale was talking about weight loss, a subject that she explored in her book, What’s In Your Cupboard?

  ‘My mind has always bullied my body. So I had to find a way to stop that.’

  ‘You cleared out your cupboard,’ Oprah said.

  ‘Yes I did. I threw self-doubt, fear and regret in the trash. But that wasn’t enough. I had to throw out low self-esteem too. And so can all of you.’ She turned to the studio audience. ‘I say it’s time to give our cupboards a good clear out y’hear? Can I get a hell yeah?’

  ‘Hell yeah,’ Oprah and her audience shouted back.

  Dr Gale took Oprah and her audience to church. Greta fell asleep and dreamed that she was in a gospel choir with both Dr Gale and Oprah. The three of them Beyoncé’d the heck out of ‘Oh Happy Day’. Then the dream got weird when a gang of zombies started chasing them. Oprah handled herself like a boss, taking out every zombie that came at them with the heel of her four-inch stilettos. Greta awoke drooling, half expecting to see her famous gospel choir lying in the bed beside her.

  As she’d fallen asleep at seven p.m. she was now wide awake and it was only midnight. The curse of jet lag! She drank a slug of water, then picked up her phone which had been charging.

  Stephen: When I got back from my run, I saw your message. Made my day. The house is very quiet without you. Hope you are having fun.

  The bridge was a little sturdier.

  She sent Dylan a message telling him about her weird gospel choir dream. She hoped he was awake and willed the phone to ping back a message. The phone obliged.

  Dylan: And you call me a weirdo.

  Greta: If the cap fits. You’ll never guess what Uncle Ray told me?

  Dylan: He confessed he’s on the run from the Guards?

  Greta: If so, what did he do?

  Dylan: Armed robbery. The local Centra.

  Greta: What did he take?

  Dylan: Tiffin chocolate.

  Greta: Well, there’s no doubt Tiffin chocolate is all kinds of delicious. But this is even better than a Tiffin grab. He confessed that he’s been in love with someone since he was twenty-four. A woman called Billie.

  Dylan: Whoah! Go, Uncle Ray.

  Greta: And there’s more. She lives in Kansas. As in Kansas of the US of A.

  Dylan: Shut the front door.

  Greta: I know! That’s what I said. We’re going to her house tomorrow.

  Dylan: What?

  Greta: I know!

  Dylan: Does she know?

  Greta: Not a clue.

  Dylan: The Ultimate Romantic Gesture move. Nice. The stuff movies are made of.

  Greta: He is my new hero. If she’s married with a house full of kids, she’d better let him down gently. I think I dreamt about zombies because of Billie. Ray says she likes those kind of movies. What if she tells him to feck off?

  Dylan: I keep telling you, he’s pulled the URG. She has to be impressed. Wouldn’t you be?

  Greta: I’d be gobsmacked if anyone loved me that much!

  Dylan: You might be surprised who cares about you.

  Greta: You, my friend, are an eternal optimist. In fact, if we are to remain friends, I’ll have to knock that out of you.

  And when they said their goodbyes, leaving Greta to flick through hundreds of channels on her TV, she was smiling again.

  Chapter 21

  The drive to Cawker City took them off the interstate. The flat prairie land on either side of the long, straight road was covered in a thick blanket of snow.

  ‘If I wanted to get lost in the world, this place would be a good choice,’ Ray said. They had driven for miles without meeting a single car. Farmland stretched for miles, dotted – every now and then – with wooden farmhouses and big red barns.

  ‘Did you see that billboard?’ Greta asked in shock.

  Jesus is alive. Call here for irrefutable proof.

  ‘Sure did. Hope you wrote down that number.’

  ‘I’m tempted to call it for the craic! I should give the number to Mam. She’d sort them out. Have you noticed how the sky is the same colour as the snow on the ground? It’s like someone has tipped a bottle of talcum powder into the air,’ Greta said.

  ‘Yes, it does look a bit like that.’

  Greta squealed, and Ray sucked in his breath when they saw a large water tower with the words ‘Cawker City’ written on it.

  ‘We’re here,’ Greta said.

  Ray drove down the main street, realizing that once again everything was shut. ‘These smaller towns have been hit hard by recession. You know I timed that we didn’t meet a single car for over ten miles. Strange, isn’t it?’

  ‘It looks like this place has been frozen in time,’ Greta said as they passed a red and white petrol station, with 1950s pumps, covered in snow.

  ‘Red Crown gasoline. It could be a movie set,’ Ray agreed.

  He pulled in to a car park. He pointed to what looked like a large bus shelter. ‘Look, this is where the largest ball of twine in the world is!’

  ‘It’s not how I imagined it when you spoke about it! Another thing off our wish list,’ Greta said.

  ‘Twine was one of our things, Billie and mine. You had to be there, I suppose. We might as well pop in, seeing as we’re here.’

  ‘Diversion tactics again, Uncle Ray.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Ray agreed, getting out of the car. ‘Don’t slip. It’s wicked icy.’

  The open-air gazebo had a snow-capped roof, but the ball of twine it encased was dry. And huge. A large sign outlined the World’s Largest Ball of Sisal Twine’s statistics. It was started in 1953 by Frank Stoeber and was now 20,078 pounds and 43 feet in circumference.

  ‘Why on earth would anyone want to do this?’ Greta asked, trying to fit the whole thing into a photo.

  ‘The ultimate hoarder, with a saving-it-till-later mentality, right? I can remember Billie telling me that they hold a Twine-a-thon festival here every summer. Or at least they used to.’

  ‘Stop. This is bat-shit crazy. You do know that?’

  ‘I think it’s kind of wonderful,’ Ray said, putting his hand into his pocket, checking for something. Yes, it was still there.

  ‘Throw your arms aro
und it,’ Greta said giggling as she took pics of Ray trying to cuddle a ball of twine.

  ‘Your turn,’ Ray said, taking his camera out.

  ‘Portrait not landscape. No! Go back a bit. Take it from a higher angle. Not that high!’ Greta shouted out instructions. ‘Let’s just do a selfie,’ Greta said, deleting each of his photographs when he showed them to her.

  ‘When we were kids, you just smiled for the camera. You took your chance that your heads were all in frame. I preferred it then,’ Ray said.

  ‘It’s worth taking a minute to get a decent shot! Look, get in with me. See, just hold the phone slightly tilted, not too high, never from below which would be chin carnage, tilt your head – not that much, subtle. Better. Now smile, looking down a bit more. There!’

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ Ray grumbled.

  ‘But look how good we look.’

  ‘I look weird. And the most interesting thing about this place is missing. Where’s the twine? Perfect photo op missed while we looked for the right angle! Go over and cuddle that bale of twine and you are not deleting the pic.’

  ‘Bossy!’ Greta complained, but she did as she was told, giggling as Ray made a big deal out of getting the right angle.

  ‘Now, we both look like eejits,’ Ray said, laughing too.

  ‘At least no one is watching us!’ Greta looked up and down the main street and couldn’t see a single person. It would be a miracle if Billie still lived in this town because it looked like most had bailed out years ago. They got back to the car, and Ray punched Billie’s address into the sat nav. She lived about three miles east of Cawker City. The road to her house was no more than a dirt lane, surrounded by a green woodland. When they got to the end of the road they found a picture-postcard white wooden house, complete with a swing bench on the front veranda.

  ‘Straight out of an episode of The Waltons. You could be swinging on that by tonight, with your true love. Just saying.’

  ‘I’m no John-Boy,’ Ray replied, frowning again. This was it for him. On the other side of that door were answers to questions he’d held on to for decades. And he was terrified to ask them.

  ‘Remember what we practised. Just tell her what you told me and it will be fine. But wait one sec. You can’t go in looking like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ Ray asked.

  ‘Like you are about to serve mass with Father McBride.’

  Ray looked at his niece and frowned. ‘I’m wearing the new clothes you made me buy.’

  Greta reached over and pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans. Then she reached up and messed his hair a little. ‘No more gelling it into place. It makes you look like a serial killer.’

  ‘A serial killer who serves mass? I thought you liked me.’

  Greta stuck her tongue out, tweaking his hair until she was satisfied with how her uncle looked. ‘Now you’re ready, Romeo. Go get your girl.’

  ‘This feels like the bloody green mile.’ He grumbled, wishing he was on death row, rather than about to face his biggest regret and wish. ‘Maybe we should just go. She’s gonna think I’m a stalker.’

  ‘No she won’t. It will be a lovely surprise for her. She will be delighted to see you. Don’t worry. And I’m here right beside you.’

  ‘Y’all planning to knock or just stand out there chatting all day.’ A woman’s voice startled them from behind the door.

  They both jumped, and Ray stumbled backwards, falling onto the ground with a bang.

  Greta supposed she’d better knock, even if it was pointless when whoever was in there could obviously see them. The door opened to reveal the oddest-looking woman, with long grey wiry hair, worn loose. She wore a bright pink and green tea dress, teamed with converse runners in red. It was a cool combination. Whoever she was, she had style.

  She whispered to Ray, ‘Is that her?’

  He made a face and she supposed that the woman in front of them was a bit old to be Billie.

  ‘You all right down there?’ the woman asked Ray.

  Ray nodded as he picked himself up off the ground.

  ‘I’m Greta, and Mr Clumsy over there is Ray. A friend of his used to live here and we’re hoping to find her.’

  ‘What’s her name and I’ll see if I can point you in the right direction.’

  ‘Billie Haley.’

  ‘Well, the good news is that your search has come to an end. This is Billie’s house all right. She’s out at the minute, but she won’t be long. I’m Lucy. We’re neighbours. I live over yonder trees.’

  They both looked in the direction she nodded towards. ‘I’m here to watch Susan. That’s Billie’s mother. She doesn’t like to be on her own.’

  ‘We’ll come back another time,’ Ray said, and he started to walk back towards the car.

  ‘Not at all. Come on in y’all. You don’t look much like serial killers.’

  Greta had to stifle a laugh at that.

  ‘I’ll make us a pot of coffee,’ Lucy said, walking into the house.

  ‘Remember what you told me yesterday. No matter how scared you feel, you have to do this,’ Greta hissed when Ray didn’t move. She had to push him into the house.

  They sat down around a long oak table in the open-plan kitchen and dining room. Greta looked around the cosy kitchen, hoping to see some photographs of Billie. But there were none.

  ‘So how do you know Billie then?’ Lucy asked. ‘Judging by y’all accents you’re not from around these parts. Scottish?’

  ‘Irish. I met Billie years ago through the scouts,’ Ray said.

  ‘Well now, it’s not today or yesterday that Billie was involved in the scouts.’

  ‘Twenty-four years since we last saw each other. Give or take,’ Ray said.

  ‘We’re from Dublin,’ Greta added. ‘We’re on our way to Las Vegas. On a road trip. We thought as we were in the area …’

  Lucy looked at them both as if they’d grown several heads. ‘Driving from Kansas to Vegas. You could have flown.’

  ‘We want to drive. See roadside America and all it has to offer. Ray likes things like your ball of twine,’ Greta explained.

  ‘Nowt so strange as folk, my mother used to say. But in truth, we get thousands every year coming to see that twine.’ Lucy placed two cups of steaming coffee down in front of them.

  They heard the rumble of a car engine approaching, and Ray’s hand shook so much, it made his coffee spill.

  ‘You’re a nervous one,’ Lucy said. ‘Here’s Billie now.’

  Greta and Ray both turned towards the front door, each holding their breaths. The door swung open, and a tangerine woman walked in. There was no other word for it.

  Greta spluttered and blinked, once, twice. What the actual? ‘Someone’s been Tangoed,’ she whispered to Ray. ‘Is that her?’

  He ignored Greta, his eyes never leaving the woman.

  ‘That’s come up well. Third time is always a charm,’ Lucy said to the woman. ‘By the way, you’ve got visitors.’

  Ray’s eyes locked on the woman who walked towards them. There was no doubt that, while this version of Billie was very different from the one he’d last seen, it was her. She was broader, yet somehow leaner, more angular. The softness of her face and her body had disappeared.

  She was wearing a tracksuit, but her face, her neck and her hands were as Greta said, bordering on the colour orange.

  Greta kicked him under the table. He stood up. ‘Hello, Billie.’

  ‘Ray? Raymond Gale?’

  She hadn’t forgotten him. He felt his knees buckle with relief.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Billie asked.

  ‘We were in the area. Thought we’d drop in.’ Even to Ray’s ears that sounded lame.

  Billie looked over at Greta, who waved back at her. ‘I’m Greta. Hello.’

  Billie nodded her hello back, placing a gym bag on the ground, by her feet.

  A voice called out from behind them, ‘Is that you home, Billie?’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

&n
bsp; ‘I need your help.’

  ‘I have to go sort my mama out. One minute,’ Billie said.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Lucy offered, but Billie shook her head and walked down the hallway.

  Ray had often dreamt of meeting Billie again. But in the many different versions of the reunion he’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. They all sat in silence, waiting for Billie’s return. Five minutes passed, then ten, until it got awkward.

  ‘Maybe we should go,’ Ray whispered to Greta. ‘We can visit another time. She could be hiding, waiting for us to leave.’

  ‘She recognized you, Uncle Ray. That’s a good sign.’

  ‘I tell you what, I’ll go see what’s taking so long,’ Lucy said, then she too disappeared down the hall.

  ‘Was she always this orange?’ Greta whispered. ‘Show me that picture again.’

  ‘No. Not in the least. In fact, I’d say Billie was quite pale back then.’

  ‘She’s either been hitting the sunbeds too much, or had one spray tan too many. I’ve eaten lollipops that colour,’ Greta said.

  ‘Maybe it’s the fashion down here in Kansas?’

  ‘I didn’t see anyone that colour yesterday in the shopping mall. Do you think her mum is OK?’

  ‘No idea. I think we should go,’ Ray said again, just as Billie and Lucy re-emerged into the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Billie apologized. Her face was flushed and she did look sorry.

  ‘I hope everything is OK?’ Ray asked.

  ‘Mama is bedridden. She just needed some assistance with … her personal needs.’ Her voice trailed off, leaving Greta and Ray to their imaginations.

  ‘How long are y’all in Kansas for?’

  ‘We’re on a bit of an adventure, to be honest. A road trip between Kansas and Vegas.’ Greta told her about their evening in Kansas City and then their day in Wamego, looking for all things Oz.

  ‘Funny, I’ve never been there. And it’s not that far from here.’

  ‘Ah sure, we’re the same with the Guinness brewery. Never been either, even though it’s only a few miles away,’ Greta replied. She made a face at Ray, trying to convey to him that he was being too quiet. But if he understood, he chose to ignore her. Greta realized that this reunion would go nowhere if she left it to him. ‘Ray was hoping you could come out for dinner with us this evening? Or a drink if you’d prefer – you choose.’