This piece was written as a response to the programme, ‘The Truth about the menopause’. Shown on BBC1 Nov 2018. It was presented by Mariella Frostrup and although it raised the taboo of the subject of menopause, I thought it was rather a one-sided approach, looking at medical intervention alone…forever…You can’t watch the episode, ‘The Truth about the menopause‘ on BBC iPlayer, anymore but here is a link that has useful information.
Eva stopped walking and put her backpack down beside a grassy tussock. She took a deep breath of mountain air and looked at the hillside she had already traversed.
“Wow!” She’d not realised quite how far she’d come. There was rocky scree and tree roots, places that had been difficult to cross.
Eva sat down and opened the backpack. She reached around for her flask. It contained the special liquid that had kept her going for so long. It felt light in her hands and she started to become anxious. Everybody said that once the liquid ran out you were pretty washed up. The thought made her breathing uneven, heat prickled from the centre of her chest, up her neck to her face. This was what running out of the liquid meant.
She shuddered and tilted the flask; there was no liquid just a noise as if something had congealed at the bottom. She shoved the flask back into her bag.
Struggling to her feet, she noticed the path ahead looked treacherous. Jagged rocks and scraggy trees bent over as if blown by fierce winds; talons waiting to grab her. The distant peaks were high and black as if she might simply disappear when she got there. Eva turned, but she couldn’t go back. All the gates she had passed locked behind her; once through them you couldn’t return.
Further down the path she was relieved to see a dwelling. A white-washed cottage with a thatched roof, wicket fence and roses at the gate. A sign said ‘Welcome’. Eva smiled, maybe somebody here would help her.
The door creaked as it opened onto a large room. It was rather dark, but perfume filled the air. Across the far side a woman was standing behind a counter. “Come in, come in,” she cooed. In the gloom Eva saw the woman was beautiful, black hair piled on her head in an elaborate style, her waist pinched in making her figure wasp-like.
As Eva stepped forward a spotlight beamed down over her. The room was lined with mirrors. As she moved she saw herself reflected from all angles. Every wrinkle, every slack piece of skin was emphasised. Her hair looked greyer than she remembered. And with each step she seemed to be gaining weight. By the time she reached the counter she felt fat and unattractive.
“Well,” the woman said. “You’ve come to the right place! Here we can stop time.”
“Really?” asked Eva, “That would be wonderful.”
“Let me show you.” The woman swept her arm and doors opened behind her, revealing a glass atrium. The room’s windows gave a panoramic view of the valley. The light was radiant. A party was in full swing. Young bodies dancing; laughter and chatter. It sounded like fun.
“Now who would you like to be?” the woman asked, placing several glossy images in front of Eva.
“What do you mean?”
“Which one would you like to be?”
“They all look rather young?” Eva finally replied, thinking the images must have been air-brushed.
“That’s the point isn’t it? We don’t want to get …” the woman paused and leant across the counter, “… old.” The woman’s mouth puckered in disapproval as she whispered the word. “Now. Tell me who you want to be?” She tutted several times with irritation as Eva hesitated. Eva could not determine the woman’s age. Close up, her make-up was thick, making her skin a smooth uniform mask. The sweet perfume in the room was starting to smell tainted as if air freshener had been used to disguise something rotting. Eva became aware the voices from the party didn’t sound right either. She peered through the door. The background panorama was just a screen. People were speaking words at random, everybody talking and nobody listening. Eva glimpsed faces grimacing false smiles, as if they wanted to stop dancing.
The woman had crossed her arms and was staring at Eva, waiting for an answer. “I think …” Eva blushed, “… I think I just want to stay as me.”
The woman started to laugh. The sound low and husky but filling the room like a wave smothering Eva. A loud tick, tock … tick, tock … added to the racket, making Eva’s head ache. She covered her ears as she ran from the cottage slamming the door behind her.
At the gate she slumped down in a heap of anguish. Ahead the sky was even darker almost black. Eva didn’t know what to do. Perhaps there was a drop of liquid left. She took the flask out. There was a weight to it flopping like sludge when she shook it. She’d have to look inside. The lid of the flask juddered as she turned it. She took a peek. And recoiled. At the bottom, reflected by the silvered surface, was a grub. Fat and pinkish and wriggling around. “Ugh!” she said, ramming the lid back on, pushing the flask into the back pack.
She felt sick. The sensation of nausea reminded her of the morning sickness she’d suffered many years ago. She’d got through that because at the end of nine months she’d had a beautiful baby to hold. Her son now lived far away from her at the other end of the country.
“Hey!” A voice called. “Are you alright?”
A woman in purple lycra was jogging towards her. She was a similar age to Eva and had a reassuring smile. Eva blurted, “Not really. I’ve run out of special liquid. I’m feeling dreadful.”
“Look, have some of this.”
Eva grabbed the bottle, and slurped greedily. But it was just water. Cool and refreshing but just water. “What am I going to do? I can’t go on without it.” Eva pointed upwards to the dark crags and clouds ahead.
“Yes, you can. The liquid isn’t everything,” said the runner. “Didn’t carrying the full flask make you tired? And it was sometimes so inconvenient. To be honest I’m glad to be free of it. Things are different but that’s alright.”
“But I feel so fat,” Eva said.
“Well, if you’re anything like me, you’ve spent your whole life on a diet, and nobody really gives a damn.”
Eva smirked. That was true. Now she observed the runner’s outfit did nothing to conceal a bulge of stomach and chunky thighs. But she looked fit and attractive.
The jogger said, “Maybe you need to go a bit further to where the path turns. I’ll come with you.”
Eva followed the woman, clambering over a fall of rocks and then wading through a stream. She kept her gaze downwards so she didn’t lose her footing.
“Look now!” the woman said.
Eva raised her eyes; the clouds had lifted. A beam of sunlight struck snow on the highest peaks making them sparkle. Ahead was a green slope with many paths crisscrossing the mountainside.
“You’ll be fine now,” said the runner. “It’s not always easy but remember, not everybody gets to see this view.”
The jogger turned and ran onwards. Eva admired the woman’s strong legs as they strode out. She wished she could feel that confident.
Taking a deep breath, Eva looked around. The pathways were all different; some more challenging than others. One sign-post read, ‘Gardens. Don’t forget to smell the roses.’ Eva smiled; she remembered Grandma saying that. Her grandmother had been a wonderful woman, her house full of books and cats. Some people labelled her bossy and opinionated. Those people had been wrong though, Grandma had been clever and wise. And she always had ice cream in the fridge and a twinkle in her eye.
Feeling more hopeful, Eva picked up her pace.
When she got to the rose garden she sat on a bench and closed her eyes, appreciating the fragrance around her. She started to wonder about the flask again and that horrible thing inside. She took the flask out of her bag. It felt different. Under her fingertips she could feel it gently vibrating. She’d have to have another look. Very, very slowly, she unscrewed the lid. Then waited. Eva jumped as something started to emerge over the rim. But it wasn’t horrible. It was the most beautiful creature. She thought it might be a butterfly, as it had wings which were brightly coloured like the reds and golds of an autumn forest. But it didn’t have an insect’s body. It was more bird-like.
Suddenly, with a flap of its wings, it lifted into the air and landed on a rose. Eva felt sad that it was going away. She got up to continue her journey but left the backpack; she no longer wanted that baggage. It was only as she was leaving the garden and the bird-butterfly joined her again, flying a little way in front of her, that she realised it was going to remain with her. This amazing thing had always been there, waiting to emerge.
