My Pear-Shaped Life. Carmel Harrington

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СКАЧАТЬ you up with all their drunken shenanigans last night?’ Emily asked.

      ‘No. I slept like a log,’ Greta replied, focusing on her phone.

      ‘Ah, good girl,’ Emily said. ‘Did you …’

      Her question hung unasked because Aidan and Ciaran bounced into the room, seconds apart. Greta marvelled that she was related to them at all. She never bounced anywhere. Unless you counted every evening when she took her bra off …

      Greta had been nine years old when Aidan had been born, with Ciaran following on a mere ten months later. Irish twins, as the saying went. She loved them and the feeling was mutual. They would sit in their high chairs, captivated by their big sister who sang and danced for them both, making them squeal with delight.

      ‘I’m starving, Mam!’ Aidan said, throwing an arm around his mother’s shoulder. ‘Any chance of a bacon sandwich?’

      ‘Same. Make that two!’ Ciaran said, pouring two mugs of tea.

      ‘Sit down,’ Emily said to them, smiling. ‘I’ve already made your breakfast. The full Irish.’

      ‘You da best,’ Aidan said, a loud rumble escaping his stomach. ‘Big G in da house.’

      He took a seat opposite Greta at the table and saluted her. Aidan had given her the nickname ‘G’ when he was a toddler and couldn’t get his tongue around Greta. And as is often the way with childhood nicknames, the name somehow stuck. Ciaran amended it to Big G a few years later. He said it made her sound like a rapper. That used to make Greta laugh. She would put a baseball cap on sideways, throw on a load of her mam’s costume jewellery and do a mean Jay-Z impression. It always ended with all three of them collapsed into a big pile of giggling.

       Big G in da house.

      With the emphasis on the word big.

      They watched Emily as she opened the grill and loaded two plates with an imaginary fry. Ciaran whispered to Greta, ‘Is Mam all right?’

      Greta looked away, unable to watch the drama about to unfold. Never mind the grill going on fire, her brothers were about to get roasted.

      ‘There you go,’ Emily said, as she placed an empty plate in front of Aidan, and then another in front of Ciaran. ‘Enjoy that now.’

      ‘But there’s nothing there,’ Ciaran said. ‘Is there no fry then? What about a bacon sandwich?’

      Emily sat down beside Greta. ‘Sure how could I make you a sandwich when I’ve not got a single slice of bread left.’

      ‘Ah Mam,’ Aidan complained. ‘You had me looking forward to a fry.’

      ‘Don’t you be ah Mam-ing me! It’s a wonder we’re not all dead the way you left this place last night.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’ Aidan asked.

      ‘I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the fact that I got up this morning to the smell of smoke. Black fecking smoke, coming from the kitchen. The grill was left on, all night. What have you to say for yourselves?’

      ‘Don’t be looking at me,’ Ciaran said. ‘I went straight to bed when I got in.’

      ‘So did I,’ Aidan replied. ‘I never even came into the kitchen! I got a spice bag in the chipper on the way home.’

      ‘A likely story. Do you think I came down in the last shower?’ Emily said. ‘The butter left open. And the bread gone. Do you think I’m made of money or something? That’s the drink for you. You’re drowning all your brain cells in Guinness, you can’t even remember when you are up to devilment.’

      ‘We don’t remember ’cos we didn’t do anything. Who says it was us, anyhow? What about Dad or Big G?’ Aidan’s face flushed red with indignation.

      ‘Don’t be pulling your sister into this; sure she was up in bed fast asleep while you two were out carousing. As for your father, you know he doesn’t eat white bread – he’d as soon cut off his arm.’

      On cue, they heard the key in the front door, and their father, Stephen, walked in, red and sweating. He looked at his Apple Watch and clicked a few buttons, nodding in satisfaction at the result. ‘That’s thirty-eight point three kilometres done so far this month. And it’s only a few days into February!’

      ‘Well done love,’ Emily said.

      ‘Dad, did you leave the grill on before you went out for your run?’ Aidan asked.

      ‘Indeed I did not. I haven’t had any bread in months, as well you know. Except for my porridge loaf that I make myself.’ He patted his flat stomach as he spoke, a habit he’d formed at the same time his keep fit passion had ignited.

      ‘Well if it wasn’t Dad and it wasn’t Ciaran or me, who does that leave?’ Aidan said, glaring at Greta.

      ‘Well, bring out the Bible then, Mam,’ Greta remarked, hoping to lighten the mood, making Ciaran snigger. When they were kids, one of them drew all over the kitchen door in crayon. Aidan, Ciaran and Greta denied the crime, despite Emily’s best efforts to uncover the culprit. So her interrogation progressed to threatening them all with the wooden spoon – which failed – and escalated to the family Bible. Each of them was made to swear on their innocence, the threat of eternal damnation laid out before them. The Bible won and Ciaran sang like a canary. Now ‘Bring out the Bible’ was a tried-and-tested Gale catchphrase that was part of their family’s folklore.

      ‘Maybe I should,’ Emily said, but the corners of her mouth began to twitch too and soon she was smiling herself.

      Greta sloped out of the room, happy that she’d managed to diffuse the tension as always. She hated seeing her family at odds with each other. Always had. Which was why it was Big G’s role to make everyone laugh. The family joker, her Uncle Ray often said. But sometimes she wondered if they were laughing with her … or at her?

      It was time she got ready for her trip to London anyhow. Her audition later today was for a part in a new drama series. It could be life changing for her. Ever since she had starred in a Christmas ad when she was little, she knew the bright lights of stardom beckoned for her. She showered and dressed, then packed her overnight bag, making sure she had everything. Actors’ portfolio, make-up bag, deodorant, her tablets. Check! Satisfied that all was in order, she made her way to the kitchen to say goodbye to her folks. Aidan passed her on the stairs, but as he did, he gave her shoulder a hard shove.

      ‘Hey! Watch it. What did I do?’ she asked to his retreating back. That had been deliberate and it hurt.

      His response was to glower at her and mutter something under his breath, before slamming the door to his bedroom.

      ‘Charming!’ she shouted after him.

      Both her parents were eating porridge and drinking more tea when she went back into the kitchen. ‘Want some, G?’ Emily asked, pointing to the pot behind her.

      Greta shook her head. ‘I’ll grab something to eat in the airport.’

      ‘I’ve had a bowl of porridge every morning since I was a toddler,’ Stephen said. He patted his nonexistent СКАЧАТЬ