How did it end up like this. Twenty-seven, unemployed. mistaken for a drug addict, in a treatment centre in the back arse of nowhere with an empty Valium bottle in my knickers.
Meet Rachel Walsh. She has a pair of size 8 feet and such a fondness for recreational drugs that her family has forked out the cash for a spell in Cloisters - Dublin's answer to the Betty Ford Clinic. She's only agreed to her incarceration because she's heard that rehab is wall-to-wall Jacuzzis, gymnasiums and rock stars going tepid turkey and it's about time she had a holiday.
But what Rachel doesn't count on are the toe-curling embarrassments heaped on her by family and group therapy, the dearth of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll-and missing Luke, her ex.
What kind of a new start in life is this?