The Guilt Trip(46)

“That’s probably because she’s been starving herself for the wedding,” she can hear Paige saying, as clearly as if she were standing there.

Aware that she’s staring, Rachel hurriedly tucks her hair behind her ears, for something to do with her hands, and turns away.

“Yes, of course, big day,” she says, without looking back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”





14



“Morning!” says Paige as she comes out onto the terrace, dressed in skin-tight leggings and a vest top. With her hair in a high ponytail, she reminds Rachel of a thoroughbred horse, all taut and toned. Their frames aren’t that much different, and Rachel knows she could probably look just like her—if only she could be bothered.

“Please tell me you haven’t been for your run yet,” says Rachel, laughing at how composed Paige looks. That’s another reason why Rachel rarely bothers: because she looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backward after exerting herself for just a few minutes. It’s too much effort, for too little return, in her book.

“No, I’m just on my way,” says Paige, bending down to tighten the laces on her trainers.

“So, you won’t be wanting one of these, then?” asks Rachel, picking up a buttery croissant and shoving half of it in her mouth.

Paige laughs. “Has Jack already gone out?”

“Mmm,” mumbles Rachel, her mouth still full. “He went about twenty minutes ago.”

“He’ll be long gone then,” says Paige. “Though, it’s probably best, as I would never have been able to keep up with him.”

“That’s the problem with you,” says Rachel, smiling. “You give it the big one, pretending you’re some fearsome athlete, but actually, you’ve got all the gear, and no idea.”

Paige picks up a croissant from the pile on the table and goes to throw it at Rachel, who ducks.

“Save one for me,” she says. “I’ll have it when I get back.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” asks Rachel.

“I think I’ll just head toward the beach,” says Paige, stretching her arm over her head and bending to the side.

“What a lightweight,” says Rachel. “It’s downhill all the way there.”

Paige pokes her tongue out and sticks two fingers up.

“Don’t be too long,” Rachel calls after her. “You don’t want to miss the wedding of the year.”

“Now there’s an idea,” says Paige as she disappears around the side of the villa. “Don’t be sending the search party out for me, will you?”

“Enjoy yourself,” says Rachel gleefully, grateful that it’s not her going, while knowing she’d feel better if she did. “I can’t, even if I wanted to,” she says aloud, in answer to her guilty conscience. “I wasn’t allowed to bring my trainers.”

She pours herself a strong coffee from the cafetière and tilts her head up to the sun. The heat works its way through her body, warming her bones, and for a moment, she forgets the events of yesterday and the warped versions that had presented themselves to her throughout the night. It seemed that every time she closed her eyes, distorted faces would appear to goad her.

She remembers going to Will and Ali’s wedding in her dreams, but when she got there, instead of it being Will at the altar, it was Jack. The pair of them had turned to face her, with inane smiles on their faces, and when Rachel had looked down at Ali’s side, there was Josh, as a child, holding onto her hand.

She’d rushed forward to get him, but an invisible screen had blocked her way.

“Mummy, what is that lady doing?” Josh had asked Ali.

“She’s got to do the right thing, before she’s allowed in,” Ali had said in a cartoon voice.

Rachel had looked all around, screaming to no avail, until Paige appeared. “Have you got something to tell me?” she’d asked.

Even though she knew she was dreaming, the sentiment wasn’t lost on her and she’d woken up still full of the conundrum it had presented.

As she swallows the bitter coffee, it occurs to her that if Jack is sleeping with Ali, he might be doing it for revenge. Might he know about her night with Noah? Might he have worked out that the date was dangerously close to Josh’s conception? What if he’s known all along, and has spent the intervening twenty years wreaking his revenge, all the while pretending to be happy?

No, she says to herself as she shakes her head. That’s ridiculous.

“Hey,” says Noah, making her jump.

She looks at him over her sunglasses, but can’t bring herself to say anything, her vivid imagination rendering her speechless.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling out the chair opposite hers.

“Fine,” she says tersely.

“Look,” he says, leaning his elbows on the table to get closer. “I think we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Noah sighs heavily. “I’m really very sorry about last night,” he says.

Rachel looks around the terrace self-consciously.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says. “It really wasn’t helpful under the circumstances.”

“Have you said anything?” she asks.