The Guilt Trip(42)

“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 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’ room,” Paige goes on, looking at Rachel with almost a grimace.

Rachel freezes.

“Ali was in there,” says Paige.

Rachel’s insides contract into a coil, suppressing her airways. “And…?”

“She was talking to someone…” says Paige, her eyes unable to meet Rachel’s. “About you.”

Rachel puts the wine bottle down on the worktop and stares unwaveringly at Paige. “What … what did she say?” she asks, her mouth drying up.

“She was talking about a situation that I didn’t quite catch, and then the other woman said, ‘Does his wife know?’”

Rachel leans against the fridge, desperate for support. Her heart is hammering through her chest as she takes in short, sharp breaths. She forces herself to look at Paige to gauge what else she might know, but there is nothing more than pity etched across her features.

“She could have been talking about anyone,” says Rachel, without conviction.

Paige edges closer. “I’d have been inclined to think so, too, if it weren’t for what happened earlier in the evening.”

Rachel looks at her with wide eyes, urging her to go on.

“Jack and I were dancing,” starts Paige. “Just fooling around. I don’t know where you were—I couldn’t find you.”

Rachel pictures herself with Noah and battles to stop the flush of color that is creeping up her cheeks. Yet the harder she tries, the hotter she becomes.

“Anyway, Ali came up to us and whispered something in Jack’s ear that made him stop dancing.”

Paige looks at Rachel, whose fingertips are tingling with anticipation. She’s holding her breath, wanting Paige to get to the point, but closing her ears off to it at the same time.

“Then she leans in to me and says that my time would be better spent looking after my own husband than messing about with someone else’s.” Paige’s nostrils flare. “I mean, what the actual fuck? Who does she think she is?”

Rachel wants to ask what time this happened, so she can ascertain whether it was before Ali had seen her with Noah or afterward. As what Paige may assume is a warning to stay away from Jack, might actually be a helpful heads-up to keep an eye on Noah. With good cause, thinks Rachel.

“If there is something going on between Ali and Jack, I can’t imagine she’d make it so obvious,” says Rachel, hedging her bets.

Paige raises her eyebrows questioningly.

“What did you say?” asks Rachel.

“Nothing,” says Paige. “I was so dumbstruck by her audacity—unusual for me, I admit—that I just stood there, speechless.”

“That is unusual for you,” says Rachel, attempting to smile, but even she can tell it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“But I’ll bide my time, don’t you worry,” says Paige. “If she thinks she’s going to get away with it…”

“Look, it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s anything going on,” says Rachel.

“But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it to,” says Paige. “Or him, for that matter.”

“Okay, but there’s a big difference between an affair and infatuation,” says Rachel. “And until I’m sure which one it is, I don’t think we should be jumping to conclusions.”

“So, you’re happy to wait it out and see what happens?” asks Paige.

Rachel doesn’t know what she wants anymore; as frustrated as she is with Ali’s blatant—and somewhat embarrassing—infatuation with Jack, she is yet to be convinced that he’s doing anything wrong. He’s avoiding her, yes, but wouldn’t anyone, whose every move was being followed and every word was being hung on?