by Sandie Jones
He looks at her and shrugs his shoulders. ‘So . . .?’
‘So, what?’ she says, even though she’s got a horrible feeling she knows what’s coming.
His gaze is unflinching. ‘Are you going to tell me the truth or not?’
Rachel drops his hands and looks at the ground. She’d hoped that this day would never come. She’d almost convinced herself that if it ever did, she’d have a cast-iron alibi. But twenty years on, she has no more assurances to offer than back then.
She’d reasoned in her head that the baby must be Jack’s; they’d had sex hundreds of times, whilst she’d only been with Noah once. Though, inklings of doubt had crept in when she and Jack had tried to add to their brood. Month after month, year after year, nothing had happened.
‘So?’ Noah asks again.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ she says truthfully.
‘Is Josh . . .?’ starts Noah, before taking a deep breath. ‘Might he be . . .? Could he be . . .?’
She looks at him, her heart feeling like a ten-tonne weight in her chest. ‘No,’ she says decisively, surprising herself.
‘But that woman just said he’s the spit of me.’
‘Is that what this is all based on?’ says Rachel, incredulously. ‘A passing comment by a total stranger.’
‘But she’s right though, isn’t she? You only have to look at him.’ He walks away, running his hand through his hair. ‘Her saying that has made me realize what’s been staring at me in the face for all these years.’
‘Listen to me,’ says Rachel impatiently, though she knows it’s her own frustration that’s making her snap. ‘He’s not your son.’
‘How do you know?’ he asks, coming towards her, his eyes glassy.
‘Because the dates don’t add up,’ she says, though now she can’t remember whether she knows that to be true, or if she’s convinced herself of it ever since.
‘It’s got to be pretty close, though – it can only be a matter of weeks.’
‘Well, a matter of weeks makes quite the difference,’ says Rachel, attempting to laugh, but it comes out more like someone’s got a hand around her throat. Perhaps they have. ‘Look, this is insane. You’re allowing a throwaway remark to mess with your mind. Don’t you think I would have told you if there was even the slightest chance that you were Josh’s father?’
‘But what if I am?’ says Noah, taking hold of her arms. ‘What if you’ve got it wrong? What if he’s mine and we should have been together, as a family, for all this time?’
Tears spring unexpectedly to Rachel’s eyes as she desperately tries to bat away the thought of it. How many times had she replayed the decision she made two decades ago? Imagined how differently it could have all turned out if she’d gone travelling with Noah, pregnant or not? Everyone has a sliding-doors moment in their life; people assume there are many, but they’re wrong. There’s only one defining juncture that, depending on which path you take, will determine the rest of your life. And that was hers.
‘Don’t make this about you and me,’ she says, her voice catching in the back of her throat. ‘We had our chance and we made our decisions.’
‘You made the decision for both of us,’ says Noah tightly.
‘That’s not fair,’ she says, trying to pull away from him, but he won’t let go. ‘I spent years waiting for you, and just when I got used to it never happening, you decided . . .’
He lets go of her like he’s been given an electric shock. ‘Years?’ he repeats.
She takes a deep breath. ‘You must have known how I felt about you,’ she says. ‘I thought I made it pretty obvious.’
‘While we lived together on campus?’ he asks, without waiting for an answer. ‘When we moved into digs together?’
She nods.
Noah shakes his head, seemingly unable to get his head around this new, twenty-year-old, information. ‘You mean to tell me that on all the holidays we went on, where I went with every girl who looked my way, you were . . . you were . . .’ He can’t bring himself to say it.
‘Lying there listening on the other side of the wall . . .?’ Rachel says, half-laughing. ‘Well, yes, but I’m not a masochist. I did put a pillow over my ears.’
‘But you seemed to positively encourage it,’ he says. ‘In fact, you used to say that living vicariously through me meant that you didn’t have to put the effort into the opposite sex yourself.’
Rachel smiles wryly. ‘That’s called self-preservation.’
‘So, all the time you were playing it cool, you and I could have been together?’
‘I was just hoping that at some point the stars would align.’
‘Yet when they did, you chickened out.’
‘Noah, it was too late by then,’ she says, growing exasperated. ‘You were happy doing your thing and I’d met Jack.’
‘But I asked you to come to Thailand with me,’ he says. ‘Begged you.’
Rachel sighs. ‘The downside of us having a platonic relationship for as long as we did was that I knew how you operated with the opposite sex. I’ve watched you claim victory on countless conquests, heard you say the same words to a hundred other girls that you said to me that night.’
Noah goes to interrupt but she puts her hand up. ‘There was every chance that you’d be saying them to someone else before we’d even reached Bangkok and I wasn’t prepared to take that risk; I’d rather be broken-hearted at home with Jack, than a thousand miles away with you and another girl.’
‘But why didn’t you say anything?’ asks Noah. ‘How could I have known how you felt without you telling me?’
She takes his hand in hers again. ‘What difference would it have made?’ she says, softly.
‘The world,’ he says, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. ‘Because, if you’d told me, I would have told you I felt exactly the same.’
Rachel’s chest feels like it’s in a vice-like grip, as she looks up at the sky, the blackness alight with twinkling stars.
‘It was a long time ago,’ she says, wishing that her head was clearer. ‘We’ve all moved on. You met Paige – if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have Chloe. It’s the tapestry of life.’
‘But I want you,’ says Noah, pulling her closer.
The change in tense throws Rachel for a loop. She can deal with nostalgia tangling itself into looking like a missed opportunity. But what she’s not prepared for is the here and now: they’re both married, they’re best friends – and wanting each other isn’t an option.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. It feels like she’s gone back in time, and is about to make a decision that will change the course of her life. Maybe it is possible to have more than one sliding-doors moment.
‘I have never stopped loving you,’ he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his lips igniting a heat in her skin that runs deep into her veins. His face is still there, so close to hers, and his hand is nestled at the back of her neck, the pulse in his thumb matching her own.
Rachel closes her eyes as she breathes him in, his smell and touch making her feel as if there are a thousand butterflies about to take flight in the pit of her stomach. She could stay like this forever, trapped in a parallel universe where they could be together. But reality is seeping in, through the hairline chink of light that stands between his lips and hers. She has to open her eyes, to separate herself from that life and this, but when she does, she gets a jolt. Standing there watching them, just a few metres away, is Ali.
12
‘Noah!’ a woman’s voice calls out. ‘Noah, are you out here?’
Rachel freezes, locking eyes with Ali as Paige’s voice hangs on the night breeze.
‘Hello? Is someone there?’ she says, getting nearer.
‘It’s me,’ Ali says, stepping into the light.
‘Oh, right,’ says Paige. ‘I’m looking for Noah. Have you seen him?’
Rachel holds her breath and sways, feeling as if
she might pass out.
‘Erm,’ says Ali, drawing it out for what feels like minutes. ‘No, I don’t think I have.’
‘I can’t seem to find him,’ says Paige. ‘Or Rachel.’
Ali looks behind her to where Rachel’s concealed behind an outbuilding. ‘Ah, that’s because she’s here,’ she says.
Rachel’s legs feel as if they might give way.
‘Oh,’ says Paige, as Rachel walks unsteadily into her line of sight. ‘What are you doing out here? Is everything all right?’ She looks from Rachel to Ali and back again, trying to gauge the situation.
‘We’re just having a sneaky puff,’ says Ali, putting a finger to her lips. ‘But don’t tell Jack.’
‘You’re smoking?’ asks Paige incredulously. Rachel had never smoked in her life and had often berated Jack and Paige if they went halves on a packet of fags when they’d had a drink.
Ali hands her a lit cigarette as if it were something they did all the time.
‘Yep,’ Rachel says, taking it and putting it up to her mouth. She knows if she inhales, she’ll be in all sorts of bother, so she tightly closes her lips and hopes that the darkness will work in her favour.
‘You haven’t seen Noah, have you?’ asks Paige. ‘I haven’t seen him for a while and after what happened today, I’m a bit worried that I’m going to find him in a heap somewhere.’
Rachel hates herself. For allowing the events of the day to get the better of her. For distrusting her husband. For deceiving Paige. But most of all, she hates herself for giving Ali this power to lord over her.
‘I saw him about ten minutes ago and he seemed fine,’ says Ali, taking back the cigarette that Rachel is proffering her.
‘Oh, great,’ says Paige. ‘Well, once I find him, we’re going to make a move. I don’t want him exerting himself too much ahead of tomorrow.’
Rachel shudders involuntarily at the well-meaning comment. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she says, eager to get away from Ali and all that she now knows.
‘We’re probably all ready to go,’ says Ali, dashing Rachel’s plan. ‘The minivan’s out front, so I’ll say my goodbyes.’
‘You okay?’ asks Paige as soon as they’re out of earshot of Ali. ‘How come you’re best friends all of a sudden?’
Rachel forces a smile. ‘Just trying to keep the peace,’ she says, cringing at the irony.
‘Who’s up for a nightcap?’ asks Ali as soon as they get back to the villa.
‘Not for me,’ says Noah, as he heads up the stairs. ‘I’m turning in for the night.’
Rachel can’t look at him, mostly for fear of what she’ll see behind his eyes, but also because she’s afraid of what Ali will make of it if she does.
She’d spent the twenty-minute journey back from the restaurant trying to predict what Ali would do with the information she may or may not have. To preserve her own sanity, Rachel has to assume that Ali saw and heard nothing. But the likelihood is that she saw and heard everything, and that thought resounds around and around her head on a loop.
Though, to look at Ali now, it’s as if nothing has changed. There are no knowing sideward glances or the judgemental raising of an eyebrow. There are no sly digs or inappropriate comments, which only serves to unsettle Rachel even more. She’d rather just know what Ali knows, and what she’s intending to do with the knowledge, than be blindsided when Jack no doubt confronts her.
If Ali’s going to tell him that there’s even a question mark hanging over Josh’s head, Rachel would rather have the excruciating conversation with Jack herself, as at least then she’d be able to say what needs to be said with some semblance of accuracy and truth. Though, the thought of telling the man who’d believed he was his son’s father for nineteen years, that he might not be, makes her break out into a cold sweat. How duped will he feel when he finds out that the newborn he’d cherished beyond anything else, might be another man’s baby? How deceived will he feel when he knows that the four-year-old boy he’d taught to ride a bike without stabilizers should have been wobbling his way towards someone else? How will he feel to be told that those three nights he spent on a boys-only camping trip with Josh when he was ten, might not have been the father–son bonding experience he’d thought it was?
Josh is Jack’s world and the thought of Ali having the power to turn it upside down makes Rachel’s insides feel like they’re being pulled out of her.
‘Who wants what?’ Ali asks, shrugging off Will’s jacket that he’d wrapped around her when she complained of being cold.
‘I’ll go,’ says Rachel.
‘Great, I’ll have a white wine then, please,’ says Ali.
‘I’ll have a beer,’ says Will, falling down into one of the deep sofas.
‘Jack?’ asks Rachel, conscious that they hadn’t spoken two words since leaving the restaurant. She catches Ali looking at him and has a momentary panic that she might already have divulged her biggest secret.
‘I’ll have a beer as well,’ he says sulkily, as he follows Noah up the stairs.
‘Where are you going?’ she asks, alarmed.
When he doesn’t answer, she can’t help but go up after him, as her brain fast-forwards to the pair of them having a punch-up on the landing and one or both of them coming crashing down onto the glass coffee table in the living room below.
She breathes out as Noah disappears into his room and Jack keeps walking towards theirs. She silently follows him in and closes the door behind her.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asks, as he disappears into the bathroom.
‘Yes, why shouldn’t it be?’
‘Just that you haven’t said two words to me all night.’
‘I had a lot of people to talk to,’ he says abruptly.
Rachel knows that and she wouldn’t normally be so needy, but on this occasion it would help to know that he’s not avoiding her.
‘Is everything . . .?’ she starts, before having second thoughts about opening up a can of worms she’d rather keep shut.
He comes out the bathroom, looking at her expectantly.
‘Is everything . . . all right with you and Noah?’ she says, wanting to cross her fingers and squeeze her eyes shut.
Her head is such a jumble that she can’t remember who knows what, who accused who, whether she saw Jack and Noah rowing at the bar before Noah tried to kiss her or after, and whether Ali had really heard their conversation . . .
She wishes she hadn’t drunk so much because she’s unable to time the events of the last few hours, or the order they happened in. That’s probably why she’s here now, looking for reassurance from Jack that all is well in his world.
‘He’s an arsehole,’ says Jack, which, given the alternatives that Rachel had expected, could have been worse.
‘He had an almighty scare today,’ says Rachel. ‘We all did.’
Jack looks at her with raised eyebrows as if to say, ‘but you more than most, it seems.’ But she refuses to pick up on his insinuation.
‘He’s shocked. You’re shocked,’ she says. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine tomorrow. You just need a good rest.’
‘The last thing I need is rest,’ says Jack, coming towards her, his face suddenly alight with mischief.
He bends to kiss her neck as his hands roughly pull up her skirt.
No part of her wants this right now, she’s just not in the right headspace, yet she can’t help but feel appeased that he does. It means that they’re okay; that he doesn’t know anything she doesn’t want him to know, and that even though Ali seems to be doing her best to turn his head, he still wants her.
‘Jack,’ she says, pulling away from him.
He grabs her behind, pressing himself up against her. ‘Come on,’ he coaxes.
‘Everyone’s downstairs,’ she says. ‘They’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’
‘So?’
‘So, let’s go and have one more drink, say our goodnights and then come up,’ she says, not knowing whether that’s her re
al intention or she’s just saying it to cool his ardour.
‘Fine,’ he says stroppily, as he tucks his shirt back into his trousers. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
As she walks down the stairs, Rachel forces herself to clear her head of any feelings for Noah and any suspicious thoughts of Ali. Though, the fact that the two of them are now intrinsically linked makes it all the harder.
‘Oh hi,’ she says in surprise, when she finds Paige leaning against the kitchen worktop, deep in thought. ‘You okay?’
Paige smiles. ‘I was miles away.’
‘Noah’s just gone up to bed,’ says Rachel, unable to think of anything else to say.
‘I’ll go and check on him in a minute,’ says Paige. ‘But first, I need to tell you something.’
Rachel stops pouring white wine into Ali’s glass as she tries to second guess what Paige is about to say. She can’t possibly know about what had just happened with Noah. Ali certainly hasn’t had the opportunity to say anything yet and Rachel imagines her first port of call, when she does, is going to be Jack.
As she looks at Paige with her heart in her mouth, she can’t believe that she’d rather it be about Jack and Ali because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
Paige looks to the door before turning back to face her. ‘There’s something going on,’ she says.
An ice-cold terror floods Rachel’s insides. ‘What do you mean?’ she asks. ‘In what way?’
Paige looks down at her feet, as if contemplating whether to go on. ‘I was having a cigarette around the back of the restaurant tonight,’ she says.
Rachel’s brain feels like it’s being hot-wired, the sparks flying off in all different directions as she backtracks to what Paige might have seen or heard. If she’d witnessed any part of what had gone on between her and Noah, Rachel’s sure, that Paige, being Paige, would not be calmly standing here, drinking a glass of Merlot. Still, she’s too scared to test the theory by asking her to elaborate.
‘And so I happened to be outside the open window of the ladies’ toilets,’ Paige goes on, looking at Rachel with almost a grimace.
Rachel freezes.