“What’s so funny?” asks Ali.
“Is that honestly all you’ve got to say? You’re not usually one to be lost for words. I expected more from you, quite frankly.”
Ali looks at her quizzically. “Has he told you?”
Rachel, feeling her temper fraying, turns to face her, their noses just an inch apart. “Yes,” she shouts. “Yes, he’s told me.”
“And you think it’s funny?”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” says Rachel. “Because it is so fucked up, that I can’t even begin to understand why you would have done it. What did you think you were going to achieve? Did you really think you were going to coerce Jack into submission?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” says Ali, her bottom lip beginning to wobble. “I just wanted him to be honest with you, because believe it or not, Rachel, I really like you.”
Rachel laughs sarcastically again. “Wow, really? Well, then I’d hate to see what you do to your enemies.”
“What are you going to do?” asks Ali.
“About this?”
Ali nods nervously.
“Well, we’re going to ride this out, for Will’s sake, while we’re here, but once we get home, I don’t want you anywhere near me or my family.”
“Seriously?” asks Ali, tearfully.
“Seriously,” mimics Rachel. “Though, I can’t guarantee that Jack will be able to hold back until then. He has every intention of telling Will what’s been going on.”
Ali screws her face up. “Why does he need to bother Will with this? I’ve kept it to myself for months, out of respect for you and, for some illogical reason, Jack. Why would either of you want anyone to know about this? He really has no shame, does he?”
Rachel leans in toward Ali, her teeth grinding against each other, in an effort to stop the vicious diatribe that is threatening to project from her mouth. “If you come anywhere near my husband again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
“I assume you’re going to say the same to her.” Ali spits the last word out as if it’s venom.
Rachel stops and looks at her, her patience hanging by a thread. “Her?”
Ali dries her tears and looks at her wide-eyed. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”
Rachel doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of saying no.
“Oh my God,” says Ali, looking at Rachel’s slack-jawed expression. “The bastard’s not told you the truth.”
Rachel straightens herself up. “He’s told me what I need to know,” she says, suddenly feeling like a fish out of water. “That you’ve been harassing him for months, years even, refusing to take no for an answer.”
“You think I’ve been going after Jack?”
“I don’t think. I know. And it all makes sense, the constant innuendos, the smutty gifts—though, how you pulled off the necklace ruse this morning, I don’t know, because there’s no way you could possibly have known that I would find the receipt.”
Ali fingers the heart hanging around her neck. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” spits Rachel. “Did you think that by pretending something was going on, it would make it true?”
“I don’t…” stutters Ali, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
Rachel laughs cattily. “Taking him off at the airport, asking him inflammatory questions, giving him inappropriate gifts, trying to go for a run with him. It’s desperate behavior by someone who isn’t used to being told no.”
Ali closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“But guess what?” Rachel goes on. “He’s not interested.”
“I didn’t do any of that to try and make you think something was going on between us,” says Ali, looking confused. “I wanted to put him on the spot; to make him feel under pressure to do the right thing. The questions and gifts were all designed to let him know that time was running out.”
“You gave him a cock covered in love hearts, for Christ’s sake.”
Ali sighs. “I gave him something that illustrated a strong moral compass; to show that those who have done nothing wrong have nothing to fear. But those who do…” She trails off.
Rachel shakes her head. “And trying to get him on his own all the time? How do you justify that?”
“I just needed to talk to him in the hope that he’d see sense,” says Ali. She looks at Rachel, her eyes pleading to be believed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about how it might have looked, but I can assure you, it was never meant to allude to something going on between us.”
Rachel’s eyes narrow. “So what was it done for?”
“As a warning,” says Ali, “to let him know that if he didn’t tell you, I would.” Her voice tails off at the end.
“Tell me what?” Rachel shouts, losing her patience.
“That he’s having an affair.”
“For God’s sake, what is wrong with you? He’s not having an affair with you.”
“Not with me, no,” says Ali.
Rachel laughs incredulously. “Well, who the hell with, then?”
Ali looks upwards, as if asking for help. “Well?” shouts Rachel impatiently.
“Paige,” says Ali, in barely more than a whisper. “He’s having an affair with Paige.”
The floor spins and Rachel feels like she’s being sucked into a vortex, as she falls backward. Ali grabs hold of her arms and backs her onto the closed toilet seat. Rachel’s hands instinctively strike out, looking for something to grip onto, but all they can find is the frictionless cubicle wall, which they slide down.
“What…” she starts when she eventually finds her voice.
“I’m sorry,” says Ali. “I wanted him to tell you.”
Rachel pushes herself against the cistern, hoping and praying that someone comes in and drags this psychopath off her.
“What kind of fucked-up world do you live in?” hisses Rachel. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” says Ali.
“You’re incapable of it,” cries Rachel. “You’ve done nothing but lie since we’ve been here.”
“I’ve only ever tried to protect the people I care about,” says Ali.
“The only person you care about is yourself,” says Rachel, pushing herself up and walking toward the door, unsteady on her feet. “You’re nothing but a fucking liar, and I’m warning you to stay away from me, my family and my friends.”
“She’s not your friend” is the last thing Rachel hears as the door closes behind her and she finds herself, dazed, on the edge of a dance floor filled with people with their hands aloft, singing to Neil Diamond. Jack, Paige and Noah are staring at her, their faces etched with concern, from the other side.
22
Without even realizing what she’s doing, Rachel finds herself standing behind the DJ deck, with him looking at her expectantly.
“Can I borrow the mic?” she says.
“Eh?” he questions, not understanding her.
“Give me the microphone,” she says in clear, clipped syllables.
She reaches across his turntable to pick up the bulbous-headed mic and taps it three times with her finger before sliding the needle off “Sweet Caroline.” The music comes to an abrupt stop as the scratching grates around the restaurant and guests cover their ears.
They turn to Rachel, waiting for her to say something, but she looks at them blankly, not knowing what she’s going to say herself. Ali comes out of the cloakroom, looking around in confusion. She freezes when her eyes settle on Rachel.
“I just want to talk about Ali for a second,” says Rachel, her voice projecting further than she’d expected. Her mouth dries up as she moves the mic further from her lips.
Everyone’s faces look strange, like they’re staring at her from inside a bottle, their features distorted by the curvature of the glass. Maria’s is the only one she recognizes, though she can’t quite read her expression. Is it panic?
“You see,” Rachel goes on. “She’s not quite who you all think she is.”
Jack moves across the floor toward her, like he’s skating on ice, while Ali just stays rooted to the spot, poleaxed, with her mouth open.
“Please tell me it’s not just me,” Rachel asks the sea of faces, in a room where you could hear a pin drop.
“Rachel,” Jack says into the bewildered silence.
“What?” she snaps.