“Oh right,” says Rachel, making note of another part of Ali’s backstory that she’d omitted to reveal. “It’s interesting that Will reminds you of your son, then. They say that women often gravitate toward men like their father, even if it’s not a conscious decision.”
The old woman smiles wryly. “Well, let’s just hope that he’s only similar in looks, and not personality. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I wouldn’t want Alison to end up with someone like my son.”
Rachel smiles and puts a reassuring hand over the woman’s on the bar. “The only problem Ali will have is trying to keep up with Will’s wanderlust.” And his desire for children, she thinks.
“His wanderlust?” queries the woman in a high-pitched tone. “That doesn’t sound very conducive to a happily married life.”
Noah laughs. “It’s not that kind of wander or lust. She just means he’s always got half an eye on taking off to explore the world. It’s how he’s always been, but now he’s got Ali, he’s got someone to do it with, if they both feel so inclined.” He takes another large slug of his gin.
“Oh, I see,” says the woman, clearly relieved. “It’s all such a worry, isn’t it? You think they’re hard work when they’re little, but that’s just the start of it. You worry even more when they grow up.”
“That’s very true,” says Rachel knowingly.
“Do you have children, then?”
Rachel nods. “Just the one, though he’s hardly a child. Like you say, I can’t quite believe I’ve got a nineteen-year-old.”
“So, he’ll be going off to university, will he?”
“He’s already gone, just over a month ago, and although we all felt he was ready, we miss him terribly.”
“Ah, an empty nest,” says the woman, looking at them both. “That must be hard.”
Rachel offers a smile. “It takes some getting used to.”
“Do you have a photo?” asks the woman.
“Oh, yes,” says Rachel, taking her phone out of her clutch bag and flicking through to find a picture that shows Josh in all his handsomeness.
The woman takes the phone in her hand, peering closely at the photo before looking between Rachel and Noah.
“Well, there’s no mistaking who he takes after,” says the woman, handing the phone back to Rachel and looking at Noah. “He’s the spitting image of you.”
“Oh … oh … no,” blurts out Rachel, feeling a heat creep around her neck. “We’re not together.” She does a frantic backward and forward motion with her hand. “My husband’s over there.” She points to where Jack is sitting next to Paige. “That’s Josh’s dad. We…” She starts the flapping motion with her hand again. “We’re just good friends.”
“Oh my goodness,” chuckles the woman. “Well, so much for my powers of observation.”
Noah’s mouth pulls back into a tight-lipped grin, but his eyes are alight with shock, burning a hole deep into Rachel. She shifts, uncomfortable under his intense stare, desperately looking for a distraction to ease the strained atmosphere.
She goes to speak, though to say what, she doesn’t know, but her throat constricts and her mouth dries up instantaneously when she parts her lips. She wonders if her discomfort is obvious—how can it not be to Noah, who knows her better than most? But when she fleetingly glances at him, he looks at her as if she were a stranger.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he says, through gritted teeth.
Rachel watches him, her heart pounding, as he weaves his way through the restaurant and out the door.
“It’s been lovely meeting you,” says Rachel to the old woman, who’s happily sipping her gin and bitter lemon.
“You too, dear,” she says. “See you for the big day tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it,” says Rachel.
Keeping one eye on Noah through the window, she scans the room for Jack and is relieved to see him sitting, deep in conversation, with Paige. Although that will no doubt do little to subdue his truculent mood, it gives Rachel time to pacify Noah, whose mindset worries her even more right now.
She’s just about to reach for the door handle when a hand grabs her arm.
“I’m glad I caught you,” says Maria.
Rachel smiles at Ali’s mother. “I’m sorry, I just need to…” She tilts her head to where she can see Noah retreating into the darkness, his arms swinging by his sides.
“Of course,” says Maria, letting go.
Rachel shifts from one foot to the other as she loses sight of Noah’s white shirt. “It’s okay,” she says, forcing a smile. “It can wait.”
Maria pats the stool next to her and as Rachel dutifully sits down, Maria picks up her hand and holds it tight.
“Just in case I don’t get an opportunity to speak to you tomorrow, I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” says Rachel in surprise. “What on earth for?”
“For looking after Alison; for taking her under your wing and welcoming her into the family. She was beginning to think she’d never meet the right person and then when she did, she was nervous about ingratiating herself.”
“Ali, nervous? I doubt that.” Rachel’s head is so full of Noah, and fuzzy with alcohol, that she doesn’t know whether she’s said the words out loud or not.
Maria smiles, suggesting that she might have. “You see, Alison may come over as confident, but it’s just her way of coping.”
“Coping?” queries Rachel, not sure that she’s interested enough to care. She has a bigger problem to deal with.
“It’s just that she’s been through a lot,” Maria goes on. “And it’s all a bit of a front she hides behind.”
That’s no excuse to be a pathological liar, Rachel wants to say. To tell your husband-to-be that you’re desperate to have children and then behind his back admit you’re not ready. To pretend that David Friedman was coming to your wedding, but had to cancel at the last minute.
“She was bullied terribly when she was younger and she sometimes over-compensates,” says Maria, as if in answer. “So, please don’t think that how she is on the outside is how she’s feeling on the inside. There’s a shy and timid girl in there, whose only wish is to be accepted for who she is.”
There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of Rachel’s stomach: is Maria as naive to Ali, and all that she’s capable of, as everyone else?
She almost feels compelled to tell Maria how Ali behaves around Jack, in the hope that she’ll allay her concerns. But in light of how she’d greeted him, Rachel fears she’ll only stoke the fire instead of putting it out.
“Why was she bullied?” Rachel asks instead.
“Oh, I’d rather not say,” says Maria, suddenly flustered.
Of all the scenarios that play out in Rachel’s head at that moment, she shocks herself when she settles on an inappropriate relationship with a teacher being the most likely. She can all too easily picture Ali flirting outrageously, encouraging a response and sharing all the sordid details—true or otherwise—with her peers. Rachel imagines it might have made her popular, for a brief moment in time, but as soon as the shit hit the fan, any friends she thought she had would have run for the mountains.
“We had to move schools three times, but the bullying just seemed to follow her wherever she went.”
“That must have been very difficult,” says Rachel, putting a hand on top of Maria’s.
“It was.” She sniffs. “But to see her now, as happy as she is, more than makes up for it.”
“Will is a wonderful man,” says Rachel. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“And he’s a lucky man,” says Maria, smiling wistfully. “I know she’ll make the most loyal and loving wife.”
Rachel forces herself not to balk. Clearly Maria doesn’t know her daughter quite as well as she thinks she does.
11
“Noah!” Rachel calls out as she tentatively edges toward the orange grove that she saw him disappear into. The citrus scent travels on the breeze, which, despite it having a nip to it, Rachel can barely feel as alcohol and adrenaline rush through her system. “Noah!” she says again, her voice struggling to be heard over the chorus of cicadas singing in the trees overhead.