‘Well, Polly’s been in recovery a really long time, so I guess she has her shit together, ya know? She’s my sponsor – she’s been amazing. In treatment it was cold turkey, no devices or anything, but with CatAnon, nobody makes you do anything. You do the steps and learn how to manage your compulsion. Like, I think they’re realistic. These days no one could NOT have a phone or be on social media!’ Kelly straightened up, seeing Polly making her way over.
‘Ali!’ She leaned in to deliver a stiff hug. ‘Kelly, you’re showing her the ropes?’
‘Yep.’ Kelly beamed. ‘Take my number, Ali, we can have coffee before the next meeting!’
‘Cool.’ Ali tapped in the digits and gave Kelly a missed call, so she’d have hers.
‘I better go. My poor nanny’s in the final stages and we said we’d rewatch all of Daniel and Majella’s B&B Road Trip before she goes.’ Kelly gave a jaunty little wave and bounded off to her car.
‘She’s sweet,’ Polly murmured as they watched her go. Ali didn’t know where to begin with this new Polly. She couldn’t believe she was here. Of all the people, Polly had to be the most unlikely to harbour a deep, dark secret. She’d always faded into the background of Hazel and Shelly’s infinitely more exciting worlds – just there to echo Hazel’s views and admire Shelly’s top – but now all that blankness seemed distinctly more sinister to Ali. Clearly, Polly wasn’t boring; she was a cipher.
‘It’s so great you’re seeking help, Ali.’ Polly here was different to the Polly of the Insta-world. She seemed on edge without the Insta-mask to protect her. ‘Now, I hope you’ve taken onboard the anonymity rule. It’s essential for everyone to feel secure in the room.’
‘I know. Kelly said it too. I promise I won’t breathe a word. I just want to get better.’
‘Good.’ Polly gave a decisive little nod. ‘Then you’re in the right place. Here, take my number too in case you’re ever tempted to go back to your old ways. This is my batphone, it’s different to my other number.’ She recited the digits, then looked Ali over, apparently considering a question before reneging at the last minute.
‘What?’ Ali sounded sharper than she’d meant to.
‘Oh, I was just thinking you look different.’ Polly tried a smile, but it looked stiff and forced.
She does not want me here, Ali realised. Why?
‘Well, I’m preggers for real now, so that might be it.’
‘What?’ Polly was floored.
‘Yep, it’s a nightmare. I went method on the whole bullshit baby thing.’ Ali grinned. ‘Anyway, I should go. See you at the next meeting.’
Ali hurried back to her car, giving a couple of the others a wave as she passed. She lashed the car into gear and pulled out of the car park happy to be free of the weird, for the moment at least. She’d be back next week, of course. Amy was super adamant that if anyone ever went digging, it wouldn’t just look like lip service or a publicity stunt.
Chapter 12
‘This week’s guest is just such an incredible gal – she is amazing. She is sharing her inspiring weight-loss journey with her fifteen thousand followers, who take comfort in her honesty and can also share their journey in the comments.’
‘What is this bullshit?’ Liv hissed. Ali had only just picked her up from the library and she was already in rant mode at the podcast playing through the car speakers.
‘It’s Crystal Doorley’s new podcast, Real Talk with Crystal.’ Ali kept her eyes on the road. They were expected in Liv’s parents’ house at six. ‘Kate’s the guest. That’s who she’s introducing there.’
‘The Shredder?!’
‘The very one. I’m listening ’cos I said we’d swing in to her later, maybe after family dinner? I’d feel bad if I hadn’t caught up with it. It’s been out for a week already. As it is, we haven’t really spoken properly since the funeral.’
‘Well, has she called you? Has she asked how you are? Or has she been too busy on her weight-loss journey?’
‘Well, she is busy.’
‘Pre-listening to her on a podcast is mad. It’s like we all have to do homework before we see each other these days. Listen to each other’s podcasts, watch each other’s stories and then suffer through the same boring anecdote live when we see them.’
God, Liv’s on a roll, Ali thought. She often got like this before Khan family get-togethers. It was the prospect of proximity to the extremely type A Nella, her older sister, not to mention her mother, Meera, who could rarely make it through a meal without referencing her ‘immensely satisfying’ sex life with Liv’s dad, James, who was at least seventy.
‘Without further ado,’ Crystal Doorley piped up on the speakers, ‘I am so thrilled to introduce my amazing guest, Kate from @ShreddingForTheWedding. Hi Kate!’
‘Hi Crystal, thank you so much for having me. I am the biggest fan of Real Talk with Crystal. This is a dream for me,’ Kate finished breathlessly.
‘A dream!’ Liv echoed scathingly.
‘OK, what is with you?’ Ali hit Pause on the podcast. ‘Did something happen today?’
‘No.’ She rubbed the shaved side of her head, something she did when nervous. ‘I just don’t feel like seeing Meera and Nella tonight. They’ll just be at me about if I am seeing anyone, “How’s the thesis going?”, that shite. I hate going there when I’m in flux like this. I prefer showing up with something to show for myself and then I hate myself for trying to impress them.’
Ali nodded sympathetically. The Khans were intense people. It was probably like having four Minis in your family, she figured. James was a renowned professor of philosophy whereas Meera, a psychologist, seemed to have a host of additional qualifications as, among other things, a reiki practitioner and Pilates instructor – and she’d authored eleven bestselling books on sex, family and relationships. She’d mined her own life and the lives of her children extensively for her books, including an exposing and mortifying ‘study’ of the teenage Liv.
How to Talk to Your Sexually Naïve Teen about Love, Life and Mating Games came out when they had been in secondary school, which was pretty harsh timing. The Khans – James Devitt hadn’t taken his wife’s name but the family had always been known collectively by hers – had met in London in the mid-1970s and spent some years travelling (and expanding their minds, as they often liked to boast) before returning to Ireland and (to hear them tell it) starting something of a sexual revolution on the island in the early 1980s.
Liv was the afterthought baby. As Meera had written on page eighty-eight of The Untold Orgasmic Joys of Middle Age, ‘the peri-menopause ignited something of a sensual fervour in me’. Liv was nearly ten years younger than Nella, who was thirty-six.
As an only child, Ali struggled to understand why Liv felt inadequate around her siblings. They were high achieving, but so was she. Lex, the eldest at thirty-nine, spent much of his time working remotely from Bali on a tech start-up he’d founded. In West Clare, Nella enjoyed frequent donations from her parents to add new groundbreaking healing services for a tiny roster of loyal clients at the boutique retreat she ran with her ‘husband’. (The legalities of their marriage were apparently shady, as Meera had performed the ceremony during a family ayahuasca trip that Liv did not take part in.)