Here's Rachel Walsh. Twenty-seven and the miserable owner of size 8 feet. She has regular congress with Luke Costello, a man who wears his leather trousers tight. And she's fond some might say too fond of recreational drugs. Until everything goes pear-shaped and she finds herself being frog-marched to the Cloisters Dublin's answer to the Betty Ford Clinic. She's outraged. Surely she's not thin enough to be an addict? But on the bright side, she's heard that rehab places are wall-to-wall jacuzzis, gymnasiums and rock stars going tepid turkey. Rachel isn't expecting plump, middle-aged men in brown jumpers, and more group therapy than you can shake a stick at. Worse still she seems to be expected to join in. Heartsick and Luke-sick, she seeks redemption in the shape of Chris, a Man with a Past. A man who might be more trouble than he's worth. Rachel is airlifted from addiction to the unfamiliar terrain of adulthood, via a love story or two, in a novel by turns poignant, powerful and seriously funny.