Читать книгу My Pear-Shaped Life - Carmel Harrington - Страница 13

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.