The Guilt Trip(21)

Yet, fast-forward twenty years, and she’s now worrying whether a heated pool will be too cold to lower herself into in her one-piece swimsuit. Even the shift from bikini to swimsuit has passed her by unnoticed. What has happened to her?

Suddenly determined to go in, regardless of the temperature, she walks up to the villa’s patio doors and slides them across with a renewed vigor. In that moment, a flash of orange silently crosses the mezzanine landing that connects her and Jack’s bedroom with Paige and Noah’s. It looked like a person, but she only caught it out of the corner of her eye and it came and went so quickly that it could have been a trick of light; the sun’s rays are bouncing off all the reflective surfaces, dazzling her and making her feel as if she’s inside a turning kaleidoscope.

“Has anyone seen Jack?” she asks, as she goes into the kitchen to find Will, Noah and Paige working together to unpack the shopping and load the fridge.

“Not yet,” says Paige, examining the label of a rosé wine. “No sign of Ali either.”

“You know the workers from the shirkers,” says Noah, laughing.

“So, are you ready to hit the waves?” Will asks Noah.

“I can’t wait,” says Noah. “Though, I have to admit, as we were coming along the coast road just now, I was looking out there and my stomach somersaulted.”

Will smiles. “Yeah, the waves are still looking pretty racy, but we’ll stay out of the impact zone.”

“You will look after him, won’t you?” says Paige. “I don’t want any broken bones.”

“He’ll be okay,” says Will. “It’s Jack I’m worried about. He thinks he’s a dude but he’s actually a bit of a kook.”

Noah looks at him quizzically, and Will laughs.

“Meaning he thinks he’s a decent surfer, but he’s actually crap, which makes him more of a liability.”

“That sounds like Jack,” says Paige.

They’re all chattering away, but all Rachel can hear is an incessant babble. She’s still standing there, in the middle of the kitchen, with a shopping bag in either hand, trying to sharpen her focus on the moving shapes in front of her.

Without saying another word, Rachel puts the shopping bags on the kitchen worktop and walks along the corridor toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Jack won’t be in their room, she tells herself—he’ll be outside by the pool. She must have missed him on her way in and he must have had his eyes closed and not seen her. Her chest feels heavy as she crosses the mezzanine and pushes open their door. Please don’t be in here, she says to herself.

The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled, and their pillows still show the indentations of their heads. She lets out a relieved sigh. What the hell was she thinking? How had she allowed a fleeting image, one that she can’t even be sure she saw, to infiltrate her mind and bring about insecurities she never even knew she had? And, even if what she thought she saw had been real, it didn’t have to mean anything, because Jack wasn’t even there.

She laughs at herself as she falls onto the bed, unable to believe that she’d put two and two together and come up with five.

“Hi honey,” says Jack, as he comes out of the en suite wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist. Rachel forces herself not to let her mind wander back down that road.

“You okay?” he asks, though he doesn’t even wait for an answer before saying, “How did the shopping go?”

Rachel pulls herself up. “Fine,” she says tightly, though she doesn’t know why. “Absolutely fine. How have things been here?”

He rubs his brown hair with a towel. “I haven’t left this room,” he says, without answering the question.

“So, you haven’t seen Ali?” she asks, rephrasing the question so that there’s absolutely no room for error. “She hasn’t been irritating you?”

“No,” he says, going back into the bathroom.

“I was thinking…” she starts, without knowing where she’s going.

“That sounds dangerous,” says Jack, laughing.

“Why don’t we try and track Rick down?”

“Rick?” he calls out, as if it’s the first time he’s ever heard the name.

Rachel gives him a moment to see if he catches on. He doesn’t.

“Who’s Rick?” he asks, poking his head around the doorframe.

How can he not know? “The guy who you think Ali had an affair with,” says Rachel, trying hard to hide her exasperation and growing sense of unease.

“Oh him,” he exclaims theatrically. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, maybe you should challenge her on it then.”

He makes a funny noise. “And what difference is that going to make? It is what it is. She can’t undo it and pretend it never happened.”

“No, but perhaps she’ll deny it.”

“Oh, she’ll definitely do that!” He laughs bitterly.

“But she might be telling the truth,” says Rachel. “It might have just been wishful thinking on Rick’s part. A bit of office banter between the lads.”

“I don’t think so,” says Jack. “I know Rick well and he’s a pretty sound guy. He’d have no reason to lie about something like that.”