“We did all right,” says a man, chortling as he comes up behind her with a glass of rosé. He extends a hand to Jack. “I’m Ken, by the way. Maria’s long-suffering husband.”
“Hi, Ken—I’m Jack and this is my wife Rachel.” There’s that fake voice again. “And these are our good friends Paige and Noah.”
They all mutter their hellos and good wishes until there’s a natural lull. “So,” says Rachel, always keen to fill an uncomfortable silence. “Doesn’t it look lovely in here?” She looks around for Ali, who, for all her faults, could never be accused of humdrum conversation.
She’s over by the door, hugging Bob and Val, Will and Jack’s parents. Even that simple gesture grates on Rachel more than it ever would have done before.
Maybe it’s me, she thinks as Val fondly squeezes Ali’s cheek like she’s a five-year-old. Maybe I’m the one with a problem.
As she watches Ali link arms with Val and lead her over toward them, she can’t help but feel replaced in Val’s affections. They’d always had a good relationship, but it had meant even more since Rachel had lost her own mum a few years ago. She looked forward to their monthly shopping trips and the occasional afternoon tea they treated themselves to every once in a while. But now, Val has a new daughter-in-law to do those nice things with.
Once Ali’s deposited Val safely beside Maria like a dutiful daughter-in-law, she heads back to the door and shrieks with excitement as she welcomes more guests.
“Sam! You’re here!” she says, throwing herself at an impossibly good-looking young man, while his girlfriend stands beside them, looking—to Rachel—to be grinning with gritted teeth.
Could it be that that’s just the way Ali is with everyone? Albeit there’s no mistaking that she’s definitely more like it with men. But there’s nothing wrong with that; it just makes her a man’s woman. It doesn’t mean she’s jumping into bed with every guy she sees—including your husband, Rachel says to herself, as if she’s talking to a third party. It just means that she’s more comfortable in their company than that of a woman. When Rachel says it like that in her head, it sounds perfectly plausible. That’s not a crime—there are plenty of women like that, though Paige will gladly cook you over the spit roast if you dare to say so.
As if on cue, using the commotion at the door as a distraction, Paige sidles up to Rachel. “Do you think all of her friends are going to be versions of her?”
Rachel watches a blonde girl edge herself unsurely through the door, almost as if she’s apologizing for being there, even before she’s arrived. Her eyes flit around the room and a palpable resignation seems to course its way through her as she forces herself to accept that what she’s seeing isn’t what she’d hoped for.
“Apparently not,” Paige goes on as she watches the same woman hover at the entrance. “Talk about apples and oranges.”
Rachel’s sure Paige doesn’t mean it unkindly, but for all the “every woman is equal” crap she spouts, she’s the first to point out the differences in their appearance.
The woman, dressed in a floor-skimming red dress, sees Maria and waves hesitantly, but continues to wait patiently in line to greet Ali, pushing her glasses up her nose as she does so.
“I don’t think our lady of the moment is going to be too impressed by her friend’s dress choice, do you?” says Paige, with a detectable frisson of anticipation.
“Chrissy!” exclaims Ali, throwing her arms around her friend. “Hey girl, we’re winning at twinning.” Ali pulls herself away and stands beside her. “Sam!” she calls out to the man from the group who came in before. “Look, we’re twins! Take a photo!”
“Oh, that’s wicked,” says Paige, looking on.
“What is?” asks Rachel, as Jack hands her another glass of champagne, even though she’s not yet finished the first.
“Saying they look like twins and making her have her photo taken,” Paige goes on.
“Her friend doesn’t look unhappy,” says Rachel, watching the pair of them grinning into the camera lens.
“Maybe not, but you can tell Ali’s put out about her wearing the same color,” says Paige. “Though, it’s not as if they bear any resemblance.”
Rachel can’t decide whether it’s meant to be a put-down or backhanded compliment.
“Cheers!” says Noah, as he raises his glass in the air. “Here’s to the happy couple.”
“I thought you weren’t drinking?” admonishes Rachel.
“How does it feel to have your mother out with you?” Jack says, laughing, to Noah.
Noah’s jaw spasms involuntarily.
“I’m just going to have the one,” says Noah, ignoring him.
“I’ll make sure of it,” says Paige. “After what happened today, I’ll be keeping an extra close eye on him.” She kisses Noah softly on the cheek and looks at him in a way that Rachel’s not seen her do in years.
“Bloody hell, perhaps I should go drown myself,” says Jack. “If it gets you this kind of attention from the ladies.”
“It looked like you were giving it a good try,” says Paige. “But you didn’t quite carry it off with the aplomb of my husband.”
“Oh, he went for it, for sure,” says Jack, laughing. “I’ve never seen anyone bail under a wave as easily as he did. It wasn’t even that big. It was an ankle buster. I even said that to you, didn’t I?” Jack knocks back the champagne in his glass and takes another from a passing waiter.
“Was that when we were paddling toward it?” asks Noah, through narrow eyes. “Or when it was smashing me into the seabed on a spin cycle?”
Jack stares at him as he empties another glass.
“But I don’t understand why you left Will and ignored Jack when he told you to come back,” says Rachel.
Noah shakes his head and laughs sarcastically.
“I thought you said Jack told you to follow him?” says Paige with a furrowed brow.
Rachel’s throat constricts and her mouth goes dry. She looks from Noah to Jack and back again.
“Wow!” says Jack. “Are you really going to try and pin this on me?”
“I didn’t ignore anyone’s instructions,” Noah says to Rachel. “I followed them.”
10
Despite feeling as though the restaurant is shrouded in a Jack-shaped black cloud, Rachel does her best to ignore it over dinner, throwing herself into conversation with the couple seated to her left.
“So, do you think you will start training, now that your son has left home?” asks John, who Rachel has learned is married to Ali’s cousin Kimberley. She has no idea why she’s told them about her simmering desire to teach, though she guesses she was looking for the encouragement she didn’t receive from Jack earlier. That, and the copious amount of wine she’s drunk since.
“It’s certainly something I’d love to do,” says Rachel. “I don’t feel like I’ll ever forgive myself if I don’t at least give it a try.” It’s definitely the drink talking now because, as much as she knows it to be true, she also doubts she’s fearless enough to follow it through.
“I’m so impressed with you ladies,” says Kimberley, leaning in. “I wish I had a bit more ambition.”
“You can do anything you put your mind to,” says John, putting his hand over hers.
“Yes, but that requires confidence,” says Kimberley. “I mean, just look at everything Ali’s achieved. I’m in awe of her, and a little bit jealous, but I could never do what she does in a million years.”
“Of course you could,” encourages John.
“She has meetings with David Friedman,” Kimberley exclaims. “I could never do that.”
“Well, I know she works for his company,” butts in Rachel, keen for Kimberley not to get too carried away putting Ali on a pedestal she doesn’t belong on. “But I’m not sure she has any close contact with him.”
“They’re like that,” says Kimberley, crossing her fingers. “He was supposed to be here, but something came up at the last minute.”
Rachel doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “She said David Friedman was going to come to her wedding?”
“Yes,” says Kimberley proudly, without a hint of skepticism.