“I got her fired,” says Jack bitterly.
“You fired her?” says Rachel, shocked at the admission. “You said she gave her notice in when she was offered the new job.”
Jack shakes his head.
“What grounds did you fire her on?” asks Rachel.
Jack sighs heavily. “She just wouldn’t leave me alone, but I could hardly go to the boss and complain that I was being sexually harassed by a woman, could I? He’d laugh me out of his office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” asks Rachel.
Jack looks down as the advancing tide fills his footsteps as quickly as he leaves them. “Because you’d probably do the same,” he says.
Rachel likes to think she wouldn’t, but without knowing what she now knows, she has to admit that she might have.
“So … so what did you do?” she asks.
“I had to do some digging,” he says. “To see if I could find something, anything, that meant I could fast-track her out of the door, and out of my life.”
“So, what did you find that proved conclusive enough to fire her?” asks Rachel.
“She lied,” says Jack, bluntly.
Rachel tuts and shakes her head. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“She put down a fictitious job on her résumé,” Jack goes on. “I was determined to get something on her that would stick, and I did.”
“How did you find out it was fake?”
“I just called all the employers she said she’d worked for and they all stacked up, except one, who said they’d never heard of her.”
“So, there’s a gap in her career that’s unaccounted for?” asks Rachel.
“Two years,” says Jack.
“What could she have been doing that meant she had to make something up?”
“It doesn’t matter,” says Jack. “It gave me enough to dismiss her on the grounds of obtaining employment fraudulently.”
“But don’t you want to know why?” muses Rachel, feeling that they might be on to something; something big that could be the death knell for Ali’s hours-old marriage. “Aren’t you intrigued to find out what she’s hiding? Because she’s definitely hiding something.”
“I honestly don’t care,” says Jack tightly. “I just wanted to be rid of her and that gave me the chance.”
“But what if…?” starts Rachel, her mouth working faster than her brain. She pauses, waiting for it to catch up. “What if she was inside?” Her eyes widen as the possibility dawns on her.
Jack laughs. “What … prison?” he asks, his voice high-pitched.
Rachel nods. “It’s not too far beyond the realms of possibility, is it? Knowing what we now know about her—the lengths she’ll go to, to get what she wants.”
Jack’s eyes flit rapidly from side to side as he contemplates what Rachel’s saying.
“She might be a professional fraudster—a con woman who got caught out. Or she might have been convicted of stalking,” offers Rachel, warming to the theme. “They take that pretty seriously these days.”
“I don’t think so,” says Jack.
“She was driving the car when Maria was injured. If she’d been drinking, they’d have put her in jail and thrown away the key.”
“If she’d been in prison, we’d know,” says Jack.
“How?” asks Rachel. “You only checked her references when you wanted her out. Most people would do it when they were considering hiring someone in.”
“Nobody does that anymore,” says Jack, by way of defense. “You glean more from someone’s social media accounts than from talking to an employer who can barely remember them working there. The job she went to never bothered to ask me for a reference either.”
“So, it’s the blind leading the blind,” says Rachel. “No wonder she’s gotten away with it for so long. You’ve all allowed her to—and now she’s got her feet under the table of our family.” Her voice wavers as she thinks of Josh and what Ali might have seen or heard. “She could be capable of anything.”
Jack goes to her and takes hold of her shoulders. “I think she’s already done her worst, as far as we’re concerned.”
Rachel wishes she felt as confident.
“Why haven’t you told Will any of this?” she asks. “Why wouldn’t you warn him who he was marrying before it was too late?”
“I tried!” he exclaims. “But he just wouldn’t listen. She’s done the same to him as she’s tried to do to me. But Will’s weaker than I am and he’s let her win. He’s desperate to have kids, and doesn’t want to leave it too late.”
“She doesn’t want children yet,” says Rachel, as if to herself.
“What?” says Jack. “But the other night…”
“I know what she said to us the other night, in front of Will, but I heard her telling her cousin that she’s not ready.”
“The fucking bitch,” seethes Jack. “How can she do that to him?”
Rachel thinks about it for a moment.
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” says Jack, jumping in on her thoughts. “This is what we’re dealing with.”
“You had your chance to put a stop to this,” says Rachel, feeling the ice-cold water lapping at her feet. “If you’d been honest—with me, with Will—you could have stopped him marrying her.”
“It’s not too late,” says Jack.
“Of course it’s too late!” cries Rachel, ashamed of the part she’s played in this. How had she let her stupid insecurities come between her and her husband? If she’d confronted Jack when she should have, all this would have come out sooner, and together they would have had a chance to let Will know the mistake he was about to make.
Jack takes her hand. “We should get back before we’re missed,” he says, attempting to laugh. “And before this place fills with water.”
21
“What’s going on?” asks Paige when Rachel approaches her and Noah.
“You’re not going to believe it,” says Rachel, giddy with relief. She finishes the gin she’d left on the table and picks up her handbag from the back of a chair. “Let me just go and sort myself out and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
She takes herself off to the ladies’ room where she finds Chrissy standing outside a closed cubicle door.
“Are you…?” starts Rachel, pointing to the open cubicle beside her.
“Oh, no,” says Chrissy. “Go ahead.”
Rachel doesn’t really need to go, she just wants access to the mirror to make sure she doesn’t have mascara running down her cheeks, but with Chrissy in the way, there’s not enough room, so she locks herself into the cubicle and checks her phone while she waits.
“Come on, Ali,” she hears Chrissy plead. “Whatever it is, you can’t let it upset you on your wedding day.”
“I’ll be fine,” sniffs Ali. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” says Chrissy. “I’m right here.”
“Actually, could you leave me?” says Ali. “I just need to be on my own.”
“Well…” starts Chrissy, clearly not sure if it’s wise to leave Ali alone.
“Honestly,” says Ali, sensing her hesitation. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Okay,” says Chrissy reluctantly. “I’ll just be outside by the bar.”
Rachel hears the door open and close and a few more sniffs coming from next door. She doesn’t know whether to bolt out of there to avoid Ali—after all, she has nothing left to say to her—or let her go first.
The door unlocks and a tip-tap of shoes crosses the tiled floor. Water runs and the hand dryer blasts hot air into the tiny space. When it turns off, Rachel waits for the door to open and close, but there’s only silence. No movement. No tip-tap. Nothing—just an ominous stillness.
It’s beginning to feel awkward, like a standoff, with only a flimsy sheet of Formica to witness who will break cover first.
Rachel doesn’t want a confrontation, but she’s not going to hide in a toilet all night. She smooths down the fabric of her dress and takes a deep breath as she prises the lock and opens the door. If Ali is surprised it’s her, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she’s standing purposefully against the basin, as if waiting for her.
“Excuse me,” says Rachel, tightly.
Ali moves aside and exhales. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she says.
Rachel rests her hands on the edge of the sink, lets her head fall and laughs.