The Guilt Trip(77)

Rachel smiles as a swirling pool of nausea works its way up from her stomach.

“Just look at all these people,” says Maria, waving her arm around. “They’ve known Alison since she was a little girl—they’ve been with her through thick and thin and I bet you everything I have that they would all tell you that she is one of the most loyal people they know.”

Rachel would bet even more that Paige, who looks like she’s sucking a lemon while staring intently at Chrissy’s phone, isn’t one of them.

“She might not always go about it the right way,” Maria goes on. “But it’s always well-intended and with your best interests at heart.”

Rachel almost laughs out loud at Maria’s skewed perception of the woman who’s doing her utmost to destroy her life. And as she makes her excuses to leave the conversation, she wonders if the protective matriarch in front of her might be just as much of a fantasist as her daughter. Perhaps that’s where Ali gets it from?





23



“Are we having a good time?” asks the DJ over the speaker, just as Rachel reaches Jack and Noah at the bar.

No! screams a voice in her head as she orders a gin and tonic.

“Yes!” yell the revellers on the dance floor, throwing their hands in the air to prove the point.

“Okay,” says the DJ. “Al-eee, where are you?”

He turns the music down, until just the faintest beat can be heard among the low hum of muted conversation.

“Ali?” Will calls out across the dance floor. He stands on tiptoes to see over the heads of the revellers who are still trying to move to the music, even though it can barely be heard. He shrugs his shoulders at the DJ.

Heads turn expectantly as the bathroom door opens, only for a palpable sense of disappointment to descend when Ali’s grandmother comes out.

“I think I saw her go outside,” offers Chrissy.

“Where’s Paige?” asks Rachel quietly, noticing that she’s no longer with Chrissy.

Noah shrugs his shoulders and Jack pulls an impassive expression, both seemingly oblivious to the relevance of Ali and Paige both being missing at the same time.

“Where the hell is Paige?” Rachel hisses.

As if they cotton on at precisely the same moment, they both turn to look at her with their mouths open.

“Shit!” says Jack, slamming his glass down on the bar. He goes to move toward the door to the terrace, but Rachel takes hold of his arm.

“Don’t,” she says, under her breath.

He shrugs her free and rushes to follow Will outside.

“Ali?” Will calls out into the darkness.

“Paige!” shouts Jack, his voice so taut with tension that Will turns to look at him, puzzled.

“Are they together?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” says Jack, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rachel shivers as the waves crash against the bottom of the wooden terrace they’re standing on. There’s no way either of them would have gone down onto the beach, as the tide has come in so far that it no longer exists.

She looks up to where a wide ledge nestles under an overhang of the cliff, and can just make out two figures standing on the craggy outcrop. In this light, it’s impossible to know if they’re moving toward her or away, or even if it’s Ali and Paige at all, but who else is it likely to be?

She nudges Jack and nods in their direction, careful to keep the rising panic that he must surely feel too under wraps. If Will catches on that the pair of them are at loggerheads, he’s going to want to know why, and despite everything, Rachel desperately wants to spare him that heartache—at least for today.

“Paige!” Jack calls out, displaying no such conscience, as he trips over himself to get to them.

“Is that Ali with her?” asks Will, his high-pitched voice showing the first sign of concern and confusion.

The silhouettes seem to move closer toward one another, as the gap of muted light between them is snuffed out. Rachel shudders as she imagines Paige’s barely contained fury at being dragged into this sorry state of affairs. She was used to clearing up other people’s messes, not being embroiled in her own. But as much as Rachel would like to pretend that this is all about Paige taking Ali to task over her behavior and the wicked lie she’d spouted, she’s not naive enough to believe that Ali won’t retaliate with the ace that is up her sleeve. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t tell Paige on the beach earlier today—because she knew she’d need to save it for this precise moment.

A scream echoes across the cliffs and Rachel holds her breath, picturing Paige, so incandescent with rage that she can’t stop herself from lashing out. She imagines Ali falling and turning through the air. Over and over she goes before disappearing into the icy sea below.

Rachel covers her ears, knowing that if anything happens to Ali, it’s going to be all her fault.

“Paige!” shouts Jack, sounding as if he’s being strangled.

As he rushes toward them, his legs look like they’re wading through syrup while the upper half of his body falls over them in its effort to get there. Just as he’s about to reach the shadows standing on the cliff edge, he seems to run out of steam, as if he’s suddenly aware of what it might look like if somebody were to put two and two together. For starters, they might question why he’s left his wife’s side to run to another woman’s aid. But the debate that’s raging in Rachel’s own head is, which one of them is he trying to rescue?