Читать книгу: «My Pear-Shaped Life», страница 3

Chapter 3

Greta was disorientated at first. She couldn’t remember where she was, and even though the room was pitch black, something about it felt wrong. Different. This wasn’t home. Then her brain clicked into gear, and her memory came back. She was in a hotel. In London. The sound of housekeeping banging on her hotel room door startled her, alerting her to the fact that it was well after eleven a.m., her checkout time. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and looked around the room in alarm. Strewn across the floor were empty packets of crisps and chocolate. She’d eaten all of this? She closed her eyes and tried to piece together the events of the previous evening. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep at about four in the afternoon. Nearly twelve hours previously. And she’d only eaten one bag of crisps before that. She was sure of that fact.

Something was slipping inside her; her control on the situation, on herself, on life. She was losing … she just wasn’t sure what that was yet. It must be jet lag, from the early flight.

She pushed aside the fact that there was no time zone change between Ireland and the UK. Her hands itched to find her bottle of tablets again. Had she taken another tablet during the night? Her rule of an occasional tablet to help with her insomnia and anxiety had somehow drifted to one every night these past few months …

She took a quick shower, dressed, packed her case and made her way to the airport. She noticed she had dozens of missed calls and messages from her family. A flurry of messages had come in from various Gales throughout the morning. Including a new text message from Aidan.

Aidan: Why do you have to be such a bitch? Just let Mam and Dad know you are alive.

Talk about going over the top. She wasn’t a seven-year-old. She was a grown woman!

Greta: Soz Mam and Dad. Did I nearly give you a heart attack with the worry? I’m such an eejit. I left my charger on the train yesterday and phone went dead. Had to buy a new one today. Hope you weren’t too worried. London is so much fun! Love it here. G x

That should quieten them all down. And she would even be magnanimous with Aidan when he apologized for his unnecessary comment. After all, it was hardly her fault she had no charge for her phone.

That was the thing with lies, when you told enough of them, they became easier to believe.

After traipsing through security, and feeling ravenous because she’d missed breakfast, she headed to Burger King for a Chicken Sandwich meal. An hour later she boarded her flight. The meal she’d eaten made her feel sluggish. She wished she could click her heels and be at home in her warm bed. Once she was buckled into her seatbelt, with the help of the extender strap, she thought about the half tablet from the night before. She scooped it out and swallowed it dry.

Hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her, hard. It hurt and Greta shrugged them off. A voice shouted in her ear, ‘Are you OK? Hello? Are you OK, miss?’

Greta opened her eyes and realized that her head was slumped against the aeroplane seat in front of her. She could feel the imprint of the table-top on her forehead. She looked around and saw that the plane was empty. They’d landed in Dublin and she couldn’t even remember taking off in Gatwick. Greta wiped away a line of drool that was making its way down her chin. Her face flamed as she felt a flush rush over her body, top to toe. Please don’t let me have done anything stupid.

‘It looked like you weren’t breathing there for a minute. I got quite a fright,’ the stewardess said.

‘What must you think of me? I’m so sorry. Honestly, I’m an eejit,’ Greta replied. ‘I didn’t get much sleep last night; it must have caught up on me. Someone had a party in the room next door to me in my hotel. It kept me awake all night.’

‘I thought you were dead.’

Greta put her two hands up and did her best zombie impression. ‘I feel a bit like the walking dead, for sure.’ Greta unclipped her belt. The stewardess looked unsure. Greta wanted to get off the plane and away from her probing eyes and questions. She’d been stupid to take a pill when on public transport. Rookie error. She needed to be more careful. And as Greta made her way through the arrivals hall, that new feeling joined the regular residents of shame and embarrassment that lived inside her these days. She was scared. But she didn’t have time to analyse that because her mother was waiting for her, smiling, eyes bright with expectation. Emily opened her arms to welcome her daughter home.

‘All OK, love?’

Greta could still feel the imprint of the hard seat on her forehead, where she’d slumped for the one-hour flight. But she pushed that away and gushed, ‘Mam, London was amazeballs. Honestly, we have to go together soon! The view from the London Eye is incredible. It made me quite emotional, took my breath away.’

‘You wouldn’t get me up into one of those things! Look at you, all flushed with excitement from the trip!’

Greta thought about the too-small seatbelts, the sweating and the blackouts. ‘It’s been so much fun. And they loved me in the audition. Nailed it!’

‘Course they loved you. That dress was beautiful on you. The nicest thing I’ve seen on you in years.’

‘Thanks, Mam. I felt really good in it.’

‘Did you take lots of photos?’

‘I couldn’t, Mam. No charge on my phone, remember? And I really am sorry about scaring you.’

‘That’s all right love. Once you are safe and happy, I’m happy. When will you hear about the part do you think?’ Emily asked as she paid for the airport car park.

Greta shrugged. ‘It’s hard to know. Could be weeks. But they did ask me if I was free in September when they start shooting.’

‘I’ll start the novenas tonight then. No harm in asking for a bit of help from up there,’ Emily said as she fed money into the car-park machine, and Greta wondered if the nine days of prayer might indeed make the difference between success and failure.

All of a sudden Greta felt the ground swoop up towards her. Her head swam and her eyes blurred as she grabbed onto the wall to steady herself.

Emily missed the whole thing. She chattered on, happily unaware of her daughter’s light-headedness. As she was about to get into the driver’s seat, her phone rang. ‘Oh, it’s your aunty Amanda!’ She tossed the car keys to Greta and said, ‘You’d better drive home. I haven’t spoken to her since she got home from New York last week.’

Greta knew she should tell her mother that she didn’t feel well enough to drive. She was out of sorts, woozy from her sleep on the flight. But her mother was oblivious to everything but the animated conversation she was already having with her sister. They were close and spoke every few days. Sometimes they drove each other mad, and her mother often called her Amazing Amanda behind her back, because her life was … well, amazing. But it was said in affection.

‘What are you waiting for, G?’ Emily said. ‘We want to beat the M50 traffic before the evening rush.’

You should drive, Mam. I don’t feel well. But the words in Greta’s head refused to form. She couldn’t cope with the inevitable questions that her admission would evoke. The looks she would be given, the unsaid accusations about her weight and the effect it was having on her health. So Greta shook herself both mentally and physically, then switched the engine on. She could do this drive in her sleep. Greta stifled a yawn. For someone who found it hard to sleep most of the time, right now she’d give anything to close her eyes.

The traffic was kind, and Greta was on the M50 in under five minutes. She stayed in the slow lane and turned the air con down to fifteen, its lowest setting. She needed the cold blast to keep awake.

‘One-sec, Mand’ …’ Emily paused her conversation and fiddled with the air con. ‘Are you trying to turn me to ice?! Honestly sometimes, G …’

As the temperature rose from ice cold to warm, Greta felt the weight of lead pushing her eyelids closed. Her feet felt numb. She felt her head loll down but jumped back up when her mother’s voice exclaimed loudly, ‘Go away! As big as that? Well, I never …’

Greta was surprised when she found herself turning into her road. She had driven the twenty-five-minute journey to Lucan on autopilot.

‘Greta! In the name of God, what are you doing!’ Emily shrieked suddenly.

Greta’s eyes opened just in time to see their car moving towards the lawn outside Mrs Oaks’s house, their next-door neighbour. She pushed down hard on the brakes, but it was too late to stop or swerve back onto the road. She felt her mother’s hand on her arm, and heard her screams. But the car continued through Mrs Oaks’s rhododendron bushes, before hitting the side of her garage face on. The airbags exploded on impact and Greta blacked out for the third time in less than twenty-four hours.

When she came to, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Then she heard her mother whimpering beside her. Mam! She turned towards her and saw blood trickling down the side of Emily’s face. What had she done? What was that smell? Smoke. Was the car on fire? Mam. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, Mam.

Emily got out of the car, staggering as she stood up. She walked around to the driver’s side and pulled Greta out. ‘Are you OK?’

Greta nodded, unable to speak, shocked by the blood on her mother’s head. It made her feel ill, and she felt the contents of her stomach heave. She proceeded to vomit everything up onto the grass.

‘That’s the shock. It’s OK. We’re both OK. I’d better ring the guards. Do you need an ambulance? Are you hurt? What on earth will Mrs Oaks say when she sees the state of her garden?’

Greta felt herself sway again at her mother’s words. ‘If the guards come, they will want to know if I’m under the influence.’

Shock flashed across Emily’s face.

‘Have you been drinking?’ Emily whispered.

‘No.’

‘Oh, thank goodness.’

‘But I did take a sleeping pill on the flight.’

Now anger flashed across Emily’s face. ‘You stupid, stupid girl. How could you be so reckless?’

Greta couldn’t look her in the eye. She hung her head low, ‘I’m sorry, Mam. I’m so sorry.’

Emily ignored her, reaching into the car until she found her phone on the floor.

‘What happened? I heard screams,’ Amanda asked, when she rang her back.

‘We crashed the car. But we are both fine. I just wanted to tell you that. But I’ve got to go now. I need to get hold of Stephen.’

His phone went to voicemail, so she left a message, then rang Ray who thankfully was at home and could come over straight away.

‘Mam …’ Greta reached over to touch her mother’s arm. All she wanted was to feel her mam’s embrace, telling her that it would be OK, everything would be fine.

‘Don’t!’ Emily took a step back from her.

Greta blanched at the intensity of Emily’s reaction.

‘Just don’t. I’ll deal with you in a bit. For now, we need to clear your mess up.’

When Ray arrived, the first thing he noticed was that Emily and Greta were standing three feet apart. His sister-in-law had a trickle of red blood staining her white face. His niece was pale, shaking, with her two arms wrapped around her chest, as if she were giving herself a hug. Ray had a feeling that whatever pain was afflicting his niece, it was the kind that you couldn’t see with the naked eye.

‘What happened?’ He walked around the car, surveying the damage.

‘I was driving. I swerved to miss a cat and lost control of the car,’ Emily said.

Ray watched the look that passed between his sister-in-law and his niece. Something didn’t add up here. ‘What am I missing here?’

Emily held eye contact with her brother-in-law and a silent communication passed between the two. The kind that only family who had shared history for decades could understand. They were the keeper of each other’s secrets. He looked around to see if there were any twitching curtains. The road was deserted, with the neighbourhood all at work. A good guess was that if anyone had seen the accident they would be out here already, rubbernecking. That was the way with most folk.

‘Is Mrs Oaks in?’ Ray asked.

Emily shook her head. She wouldn’t get home from work until after six at the earliest.

Ray squeezed into the driver’s seat, pushing the deflated airbag away from him. The smell of smoke and powder tickled his nose, making his throat feel scratchy. He switched the engine on and was surprised to hear it turn over. He reversed it out slowly, then moved it into its rightful place, next door. He’d call a tow truck, later on, to take it away. He figured it was a write-off. Mrs Oaks’s garage wall was unmarked, with not even a scratch on it. But there was considerable damage to the lawn and the flowerbeds. Ray felt his stomach flip as he contemplated how much worse this could be. If anything had happened to Emily or Greta … He saw Emily wipe another trickle of blood away and he took hold of her arm and led her towards the house. ‘Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea. I want to take a look at that cut.’

‘I’d better ring Mrs Oaks to tell her what’s happened,’ Emily said.

Greta couldn’t take her eyes off the squashed flowers. Muddy brown tyre marks ripped through the green lawn, telling tales of the reckless, stupid, unforgivable thing she’d done. She’d put her mother’s life at risk. Her own, she didn’t care about.

The weather was in sync with how she felt, because all at once it began to lash rain, the clouds grey and thunderous above them. She felt movement at her feet; when she looked down, the scrappy black dog was sitting beside her again. His coat was drenched, showing how thin and bedraggled he was. Poor little mite. His eyes met hers, and Greta recognized something of herself in him again.

‘Inside,’ Emily shouted, her voice shrill. ‘Now!’

Greta followed her indoors, looking back one last time at the dog. And the fear that had been snaking its way around her body since she’d arrived at Dublin airport made its way to her neck and started to tighten, strangling her. She wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to untangle herself from its grasp ever again.

Chapter 4

Greta was aware of whispered conversations being held in the kitchen. When she went downstairs, Uncle Ray had already left and her parents were sitting side by side.

‘Sit down.’ Emily’s voice made her jump. The tone was firm, and one that Greta knew well. It was the one Emily used throughout their childhood when she had reached her limit. It said enough was enough.

‘I want you to get all of your tablets and bring them down to us,’ Emily said.

Greta had not expected this and felt panic creeping its way through her body. Only a few weeks previously, Emily had voiced concerns about her over-reliance on taking tablets to help her sleep. Greta had been ‘sleep walking’, doing strange things, while under their influence. This was pure nonsense. She’d told her mam that, who was prone to drama at the best of times. But she’d also promised her she’d only take a tablet in an emergency. That, of course, was a lie.

‘It’s time to knock them on the head,’ Stephen added, firmly.

Thoughts began to race around Greta’s mind, excuses that she could make, that would get her off the hook she was dangling on so precariously. She took a deep breath, sat up straight and tried to give the performance of a lifetime. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. I will pay for the damage to the car and Mrs Oaks’s garden.’

‘That you will,’ Stephen answered.

‘And I’ll help Uncle Ray sow the new flowers,’ Greta threw in, feeling magnanimous. Everyone knew that she wasn’t the outdoorsy type, never showing any interest in their garden at home – or, in fact, any garden. Greta didn’t see the point of flowers, being more of a tree woman. She glanced at both their faces, expecting to see a softening, a sign that she was making ground with them.

But there was nothing but disappointment and anger there.

‘You know I’ve suffered from insomnia for years. The pills were prescribed by Dr Hanrahan! And I’ve been thinking about what happened. It wasn’t the pills. You see, I had the most terrible time in London. I didn’t want to tell you, to worry you, but the hotel was awful. I think there was a party going on in the room beside me. I complained several times to reception. So you see, I’d not slept a wink all night, and I thought, I’ll never manage the flight home unless I get a quick nap. I only took half a pill. Thinking about it now, I must have caught a virus on the flight. The air conditioning is notorious for doing that. The virus made me dizzy …’ She stopped talking when she saw her mother’s face.

‘Liar.’ Emily’s voice, cold and hard, sliced through the air. ‘No more excuses, I want those pills now.’ When Greta didn’t move, she continued, ‘If necessary I’ll go get them for you.’

‘You’ve not been yourself for months now. And your weight is a disgrace. Every time I look at you, you’ve got bigger. I should have said something sooner,’ Stephen chipped in. ‘But enough already.’

‘Jeez, Dad, you’d turn a girl’s head with all those compliments.’ Greta stood up and pulled her pyjamas down over her stomach and hips, feeling her father’s eyes on her. His shame and disappointment with her was a poor match for her own feelings. She grabbed a pack of tablets from her bedside locker, then walked the green mile back to the kitchen.

‘There.’ She placed them on the kitchen table. They were small and white, inoffensive. They were also circles of destruction.

‘Swear to us that you’ll not take any more of these,’ Emily said.

‘Do I have to swear on the Bible?’ Greta asked. For the first time in the history of that family joke, nobody laughed.

‘Say it out loud so we can hear you,’ Stephen said. ‘Swear that you will never take another sleeping tablet.’

Greta didn’t answer straight away. Because, to her horror, she realized that she didn’t want to make that promise. In fact, if she were honest, she wanted to take one of her pills so that she could go to sleep and escape from this moment.

‘I swear.’

‘Good. We’ll say no more about it,’ Emily said.

Stephen cleared his throat to say something, but Emily silenced him with a shake of her head.

‘We’ll say no more,’ Emily repeated. ‘Have something to eat. Then get dressed and go next door to help your Uncle Ray out.’

‘I’m not hungry. I’ll go straight over to Ray.’ She walked over and gave her mam a hug. ‘Don’t be worrying about me. I’m not an addict or anything. I’ll show you. I was reckless. Honestly, it won’t happen again.’

Back in her room, Greta turned to social media to help her forget the noise in her head. Though sometimes, if she were honest, seeing all the smiling, happy people she followed only increased the volume of that noise. Maybe it was because she wanted to be just like them.

There was a new post from Dr Gale, who had shared a black-and-white photo still from The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy was standing by a broken picket fence, with Toto the dog in her arms, as a tornado raced towards her.

Drgretagale There are days when I feel just like Dorothy here, about to be swept away in a tornado. We all have our ‘Dorothy’ moments, times when life rages around us, and all we can do is cling on and wait for the storm to pass. But remember this, my friends: maybe that nasty old storm will shake your cupboards and clear them out a little more …

#drgretagale #wizardofoz #dorothy #storm #inspire #inspirationalquotes #whatsinyourcupboard

Greta felt tears prick her eyes. How did Dr Gale do that? She always seemed to know what Greta was thinking. That was all she had to do. She had to cling on a little bit longer, then maybe the storm would pass.

Once Greta finished helping Uncle Ray, she retreated to her bedroom again, where she stayed for most of the day. But by four o’clock, the shock and the embarrassment of the past twenty-four hours caught up with her. Her head buzzed, while her stomach flipped. Greta put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop the torment inside of her. Her mind refused to switch off and as her body began to shake, she felt the walls of her bedroom begin to close around her. The need to get out of the house overwhelmed her. She didn’t have a destination in mind, she just wanted to be anywhere else but here. So she ran out and made her way to the nearby Griffeen Valley Park, welcoming the soft rain that fell on her as she moved. It was only a short shower and by the time she arrived at the water’s edge at the back of the park, it had stopped. She paused to watch the ducks swim. And for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to jump in. Was it possible to swim away from her life, the mess she’d gotten herself into? Because she realized that no matter how far Greta walked away from her bedroom, the storm came with her.

She looked up to the sky which was dark and ominous, reflecting her mood. But then, the sunshine made its presence felt and a bright rainbow appeared. Could it melt her troubles away like lemon drops? Greta walked back home, watching the rainbow move further from her with every step.

‘That you, love?’ Emily called out when she heard the key in the door.

‘The one and only,’ Greta said. She took a deep breath, then plastered a smile on her face.

‘You’re looking fierce tired today, G. Peaky, in fact. Now, don’t get annoyed with me, but I read an article online earlier. And, to be honest with you, you fit the bill of an addict. To a T.’

‘Ah Mam! I’m hardly shooting up drugs on the side of the street!’

‘No, you’re not doing that,’ Emily agreed.

Please let this be the end of this discussion. The gods ignored Greta.

‘But you’ve had blackouts quite a few times. You’ve driven a car and nearly killed both of us.’ Emily blessed herself again. ‘And you look wrecked.’

‘I’ll go to bed early tonight. You won’t know me tomorrow.’

‘Well, they do say that the best eraser in the world is a good night’s sleep,’ Emily said. ‘Tell you what, I’ll run you a bath. Nothing like a nice long relaxing soak to set you up for bed. Your dad will be home soon to make his curry. By the time you come down, dinner will be ready.’

‘You know I hate baths. I don’t like to lie in my own filth.’

‘How dirty are you? Go away out of that!’ Emily said. ‘Follow me up in five minutes and I’ll have it ready for you.’

Greta watched her mam walk out of the kitchen, then sank into one of the dining-room chairs. She was so tired. Every bone in her body cried out in protest. But once her mam got a bee in her bonnet, there was no stopping her. She’d have the bath and go straight to bed, skipping her dad’s dinner. And, hopefully, her body would have no choice but to cooperate and sleep.

Her stomach flipped and fluttered as Greta’s mind spiralled. She walked over to the larder press and stood on her tippy toes to reach the good tin, which her mam had hidden behind a double pack of kitchen towels. Greta opened the lid and pulled out a treat-size bar of Crunchie. She unwrapped it and stuffed it whole in her mouth, feeling the chocolate melt on her tongue, followed by a hit of the sugary fizz of the honeycomb centre. But it wasn’t enough. So she grabbed a Cadbury’s Caramel too. But no matter how much she stuffed into her mouth, her heart continued to pound and her belly ached. The caramel bar hadn’t made life easy. The bunny was full of shit.