The Guilt Trip

by Sandie Jones

  It’s the best Rachel can hope for as her brain scrambles to comprehend what is happening.

  ‘So, let’s assume Ali saw and heard everything last night,’ she says, breathlessly. ‘And she’s telling Paige right now . . .’

  ‘Then we’re fucked.’ Noah grimaces as he finishes her sentence.

  Rachel’s chest hurts at the thought of her best friend finding out she’s been deceived all this time.

  ‘We should have told them,’ she says. ‘Right at the beginning.’

  Noah looks at her. ‘About that night, or about Josh?’

  ‘For God’s sake, this has got nothing to do with Josh. You’ve got nothing to do with Josh.’

  She’ll not allow the look on his face to put her off saying what needs to be said. ‘If we’d just been honest, right from the word go, we wouldn’t be in this position. You hadn’t even met Paige when we . . .’

  ‘The only person you needed to be honest with was me,’ says Noah pointedly, crushing the very bones of her.

  ‘Why did you have to do what you did last night?’ she wails. ‘Everything would have been fine if you’d just . . .’

  ‘Ignored the possibility that Josh might be mine,’ says Noah caustically.

  ‘He’s not . . .’ she cries. ‘How many more times?’

  ‘Listen,’ says Noah, grabbing hold of her arms in an attempt to jolt her out of the downward spiral she’s descending into. ‘Let’s think about this logically. Why would Ali want to tell Paige?’

  He looks at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to see sense.

  ‘They don’t even like each other,’ he says. ‘Why would Ali want to jeopardize your relationship with Paige? Or Jack, for that matter. She’s nothing to gain from it.’

  Rachel teeters on the brink of telling him how wrong he’s got it. That’s exactly what Ali will be looking to do if she and Jack are having an affair: if there’s any part of him that is questioning his loyalty to his wife, that’s making him feel guilty for cheating on her, then Ali telling him that Rachel and Noah have slept together will go a long way to assuaging any remorse he may have.

  She trains the binoculars on them again, searching in the background for Jack, who Ali’s sure to have told before Paige. Is he waiting in the wings, ready to comfort Paige for the grave injustice that’s been sustained by them both? Will they hatch a plan – the three of them together – to wreak their revenge?

  Paige might even give their affair her blessing once she finds out her best friend isn’t quite the friend she thought she was.

  ‘Paige is going to kill me,’ says Rachel. ‘Just after Jack kills you.’

  The pair of them look at each other and it feels as if time is standing still. Rachel so wishes that it would. Like in those movies, when everything is freeze-framed whilst the main character goes about putting everyone in the position they want them to be in. But then she wonders if the rewind button wouldn’t be more useful here, so that she could backtrack to when her husband wasn’t having an affair, and to before his mistress discovered her darkest secret.

  15

  Rachel’s hiding in her room when Jack comes back from the run she was sure he’d pretended to go on. If he was with Ali, he’s going to know everything by now, as is Paige. Her heart stops as she contemplates getting through the day with their new-found knowledge emanating from every pore of their beings.

  She wouldn’t be able to bear it. She’d have to take the coward’s way out and go home, with her life in ruins. She’d lose her husband, her best friend, the family she’s come to adore and the son she couldn’t love any more if she tried. It takes everything she has to stop herself from crying out at the power Ali has over her.

  ‘That was tough,’ says Jack, sounding unbelievably normal.

  She dares herself to look at him. He is suitably puffed out, with sweat staining the collar of his T-shirt and marking the length of his spine on the back.

  ‘The hill coming back up from the beach is a killer,’ he goes on, as she watches him numbly. ‘I’m going to jump in the shower.’

  He groans as he steps under the warm water and, in normal circumstances, she wouldn’t mind joining him, but not now. She can’t help but wonder if she ever will again.

  ‘Hello,’ comes a voice from the other side of the bedroom door. ‘Are you in there?’

  The hackles go up on Rachel’s neck at the sound of Ali’s saccharine-sweet voice, so adept at disguising her ominous intentions. She stays silent, intrigued to see what Ali will do if she thinks Jack’s alone. Jump straight in the shower with him, she doesn’t doubt.

  The door handle slowly turns downwards and Rachel wishes she had the superpower she so desperately wanted to possess when she was younger, to prove that her little sister was borrowing her clothes and returning them dirty and torn. If she could just be invisible right now, she would be privy to Ali’s intentions.

  ‘Oh,’ says Ali, holding her hand to her chest. ‘I didn’t think you were here.’

  Rachel offers nothing more than a fixed grin.

  ‘I knocked . . .’ says Ali, looking around.

  ‘I guess I didn’t hear you,’ says Rachel tightly.

  ‘No worries,’ says Ali breathlessly, as if she’s been caught out. ‘I’m glad you’re here, because I really need your help.’

  Rachel looks at her as if she’s kidding.

  ‘No, really,’ says Ali, sensing her disbelief. ‘My hair won’t go right. I’ve washed it twice and it just won’t do anything I want it to do.’

  ‘I thought your mum would be here,’ says Rachel dismissively. ‘Can she not help you?’

  Ali shakes her head forlornly. ‘There’s too many steps for her chair, and besides, I want her to see me for the first time when I walk down the aisle.’

  She looks at Rachel with a quivering bottom lip. ‘Will you help me?’ she begs.

  Every fibre in Rachel’s being sends out a warning sign. If she knew Ali hadn’t overheard her and Noah last night, she’d feel more inclined. If she thought her and Paige were merely discussing the weather on the beach just now, she’d be tempted. If she didn’t think there was a very good chance that Ali was screwing her husband then she’d jump to. But somewhere, deep down, Rachel allows the remote possibility that she might not have done any of the things she’s being silently accused of. Maybe there’s no ulterior motive. Maybe she’s just standing in front of Rachel, genuinely in need of her help.

  ‘Okay, I’ll be five minutes,’ says Rachel, giving her the benefit of the doubt one last time, because it suits her to believe that her life isn’t about to be driven off a cliff.

  ‘Come in,’ says Ali tearfully, as Rachel knocks on her bedroom door. She’s pulling a comb through her wet hair. ‘Thank you, I just don’t know what to do with it.’

  ‘What do you want to do with it?’ asks Rachel.

  Ali throws the comb on the dressing table in frustration.

  ‘I just wanted a bit of volume, but my stupid hair is just so thin and fine . . . it won’t do anything.’

  Rachel doesn’t think she’s ever seen Ali’s hair do nothing. ‘So, why don’t we try drying it and pin curling it?’ she says, picking up the hairdryer. ‘That way, we can take the clips out once you’re dressed.’

  Ali nods gratefully.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Rachel asks hesitantly, knowing that it might be the key to opening the can of worms she so fears.

  ‘Mmm,’ says Ali. ‘A bit emotional, but okay other than that.’

  Rachel deftly separates a section of hair and secures it with a bulldog clip. ‘But no last-minute jitters?’

  ‘Oh no,’ says Ali, attempting to smile. ‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Will’s the one for me. You know when you know, don’t you?’

  Do you? wonders Rachel. Are you ever a hundred per cent sure that you’re doing the right thing? She remembers her own wedding day not being quite the occasion she’d spent the best part of twenty years imagining. In her dreams, in fact in the dra
wings she’s sure she still has somewhere, she pictured herself emerging resplendent from a white horse-drawn carriage, in a dress that resembled a meringue, about to marry her Prince Charming. But instead, it had been a rushed affair in a registry office, with her squeezing herself and her burgeoning bump into an unflattering tent-like monstrosity and waddling to the local pub afterwards. Though, as much as she regretted the unexpected haste of the day, she never called into question her love for Jack or whether he was the one for her. Besides, she was five months pregnant and the man she’d always thought she was going to marry was on the other side of the world.

  ‘You’ve got yourself a good man,’ says Rachel now. ‘He won’t let you down.’

  Ali raises her eyebrows. ‘I don’t know that you can ever be entirely confident about that. Even with the ones you thought you could put money on.’ She laughs wryly. ‘In fact, they’re the fellas most likely to disappoint you.’

  Rachel looks at her in the mirror. ‘Have you been disappointed in the past then?’

  ‘I’ve been hurt before,’ says Ali. ‘Pretty badly, but it was my own fault.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I loved someone who wasn’t mine to love.’

  Rachel momentarily stops what she’s doing, wondering if this is where Ali’s going to confess to an affair with her husband.

  ‘Is this the married man you were talking about the other night?’ she forces herself to ask.

  Ali nods. ‘Except I didn’t know he was married until I’d fallen in love with him.’

  Rachel can’t help but backtrack to when she’d first met Ali; the same night that Will had been introduced to her. She remembers her waxing lyrical about Jack; cooing about him having taken her under his wing; telling her how he was going above and beyond the call of duty. Had that included inviting her into his bed? Had they already been sleeping together by then? Perhaps her gushing praise had been a clumsy attempt at overcompensating for the fact that she’d just found out he was married, and was about to meet his wife.

  As much as she tries, Rachel can’t for the life of her remember how she’d ended up at the pub that night. She so rarely mixed with Jack’s work colleagues or attended any functions, so there must have been a reason. Perhaps she’d surprised him, thinking it would be a treat, but it had resulted in him having to explain to his uninformed mistress that he had a wife in the wings.

  ‘Do you know, it’s three years to the day?’ says Ali, interrupting her thoughts.

  Rachel raises her eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘That Will and I met,’ offers Ali in answer.

  ‘Today?’ asks Rachel.

  Ali smiles and nods.

  Of course, thinks Rachel. Three years ago next week, would have been Jack’s fortieth birthday. The night she went to the pub, she’d been in London shopping for his present, and had called to ask if he wanted to meet for dinner before going home. He’d said Will had just got back from Vietnam and he was going to have a quick drink with him.

  ‘Great,’ she can remember saying. ‘Can I tag along?’ So, she had invited herself.

  ‘So, what happened to the married man?’ asks Rachel, unable to stop herself from needing to know more. She hadn’t realized she was such a glutton for punishment.

  ‘Oh, I broke it off as soon as I found out,’ says Ali, seemingly surprised that Rachel would even need to ask. ‘But even after you’ve ended things, it doesn’t mean that your feelings automatically stop, does it?’

  If it’s Jack she’s talking about, Rachel wonders if he feels the same. Whether he’s still holding a torch for her, even though its burning embers ought to have been extinguished by the arrival of Will.

  Is that what’s happening here? Are they both still reeling from an unfinished love affair, and choosing different ways to deal with it? Is Ali’s incessant flirting and Jack’s non-compliance their way of navigating their way through the debris of a relationship that has left them both broken?

  ‘I don’t know how you can cheat on someone you promised to love and cherish?’ says Ali. ‘And I don’t know why a wife would put up with it.’

  Rachel feels like she’s being sucked into a vortex, spinning out of control, not knowing which way is up. Her hands tremble as she picks up another section of Ali’s hair, unable to believe that she has the audacity to point the finger at her for Jack’s indiscretions. She should just yank her head back and scream that it takes a strong woman to stand by an unfaithful husband, or one who didn’t have a clue anything was going on until twenty-four hours ago.

  ‘Did the wife ever find out?’ asks Rachel, her voice shaking as much as her hands. Were they really going to conduct this conversation here, like this, referring to her in the third person?

  Ali’s eyes never leave Rachel’s reflection. ‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘But you always have an inkling if something’s going on, don’t you?’

  Is it Rachel’s imagination or was the ‘you’ emphasized? She looks at Ali smiling sweetly in the mirror and tightens her grip on the hair coiled around her hand. She imagines slamming Ali’s head into the dressing table, demanding to know what she’s doing with Jack. When she admits to cheating on Will, Rachel will promise to keep her secret, just so long as Ali doesn’t divulge what she saw and heard last night. They both have a hold over each other, and if Rachel has to make a deal with the devil to release herself from Ali’s grasp, so be it.

  ‘Ow,’ cries Ali, pulling away from her.

  ‘Sorry,’ says Rachel, coming to her senses and loosening her grip.

  ‘So, you don’t think you’d know if something was going on?’ says Ali, rephrasing the question.

  ‘It’s not always that clear cut,’ she says, trying desperately hard to keep her voice measured. ‘I’m sure that there are lots of factors, that on their own don’t add up to much, but when they form a much bigger picture . . .’

  ‘So, whether you’re the naturally suspicious type, you mean?’ asks Ali.

  Rachel had never considered herself to be mistrusting, of anyone or anything, least of all Jack.

  ‘I guess that’s part of it,’ she says, playing along to see where this takes her. ‘Though, I would also imagine that sometimes, it’s about whether you want to know.’ That, perhaps, is the category she could be accused of falling into. But is that really a crime? Wanting to hold onto the husband you love by living in staunch denial of what’s really going on?

  ‘Wouldn’t you want to know?’ asks Ali, definitely emphasizing the ‘you’ this time.

  Rachel fixes her with a steely glare. ‘If there was something worth knowing,’ she says. ‘But if it was just a one-sided infatuation that a woman had allowed to get out of all perspective, then no.’

  ‘Do you know many women like that, then?’ asks Ali, smiling, as if goading her.

  ‘I’ve come across one or two in my time,’ says Rachel, refusing to rise to the bait. She will not allow Ali to get the better of her; she’s not smart enough.

  ‘Is that how you choose to see them?’ asks Ali. ‘Because it’s easier than blaming your husband?’

  Rachel is winded by her unabashed nerve, but refuses to show it on her face. How dare she imply it’s all Jack’s doing? From her standpoint, all she can see is Ali throwing herself at him, though she’s not naive enough to believe that Jack wouldn’t have been persuaded to sample the wares. The way Ali displays them, she doubts few men could resist.

  ‘I don’t think I need to vouch for Jack,’ she says resolutely. ‘I trust him implicitly.’

  ‘And what if the shoe was on the other foot?’ asks Ali, still coming back for more. ‘What if you were the other woman?’

  Rachel’s fumbling hands drop the hairbrush onto the tiled floor, her hands instantaneously prickling with sweat from every pore. Hot tears rush to her eyes, teetering on the edge, as her stomach turns somersaults and a gaping hole threatens to open up in her chest. She forces herself to breathe, but there doesn’t seem to be enough air to fill her lungs. Every pa
rt of her wants to get out of there, but her feet feel like they’re stuck in concrete, and so she’s forced to stand there, poleaxed by the realization that this conversation isn’t about Jack.

  Ali’s talking about Noah.

  16

  ‘You okay?’ asks Paige, as they pass on the stairs.

  Rachel’s heart thumps in her chest as she looks at her, waiting for her to launch into a well-deserved tirade, but nothing about her suggests that she knows anything more than she did at breakfast this morning; before her run; before meeting Ali on the beach; before Ali might have told her everything she knows. Though, her unsuspecting expression only allows Rachel’s selfish guilt to poison her system even more.

  Whenever she’d allowed herself to think about the potential fallout from her and Noah’s secret, she’d only ever thought about how her world would be affected: what Jack would do, how Josh would react, what she’d need to do to keep them all together. Seeing Paige’s genuine concern makes her realize what her friend stands to lose.

  ‘I’m not feeling too good,’ says Rachel. It’s not a lie.

  Paige reaches a hand out to take hold of Rachel’s arm. ‘You don’t look great – what’s up?’

  ‘I’ve just been helping Ali get ready and I came over a bit weird.’

  ‘She has that effect,’ says Paige half-laughing. ‘Come back downstairs and I’ll fix you something to eat. Maybe you need a bit of sugar.’

  Rachel doesn’t want Paige to be nice, because when she finds out she didn’t deserve it, she doesn’t want her to feel she’s been taken for a fool.

  ‘I’ll be okay,’ she says. ‘I should probably start getting ready anyway.’

  Paige looks at her watch. ‘We’ve got plenty of time yet.’ She takes Rachel by the hand. ‘You know what you need?’

  Rachel shakes her head numbly.

  ‘Hair of the dog.’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so,’ Rachel says, unable to think of anything worse, yet knowing at the same time that alcohol is probably going to be the only thing that will get her through the day.