‘Whatever, it smells good.’
‘Want some?’
‘I can get it.’
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. ‘Just go, sit, I’ll bring it out.’
She did as she was told and he appeared shortly after with a bowl and her stable table, and a giant smirk on his face.
‘You own a stable table,’ he said. ‘I thought only old people owned stable tables.’
She took it from him. ‘Old people and people who don’t have a dining room,’ she said airily, as she positioned it comfortably on her lap. ‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
He passed her the bowl of soup and a spoon, and then he took a seat at the other end of the couch.
‘You’re not having any?’ she asked.
‘I’ve already had two bowls. Had to ward off the hangover hunger pangs.’
She nodded, tucking into the soup. ‘It’s good.’
‘So you’re not feeling any nausea?’
She shook her head. ‘I feel fine.’ She slurped another spoonful of the soup. It really was good. ‘You know, Tom, there’s no need for you to stay. I’m absolutely fine.’
‘I thought we’d settled this.’
‘But –’
‘Rachel, any side effects you’re going to have might not kick in for up to twelve hours, they say. I’m staying,’ he said flatly.
‘Okay.’
He got up. ‘Shall we see what’s on the telly?’
‘Sure.’
He picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, and Rachel noticed then he was dressed in a T-shirt and long shorts. He hadn’t been wearing those this morning. ‘You’ve changed your clothes,’ she remarked.
‘Yeah, I picked up some stuff when I went to get the car,’ he said, sitting back on the couch. ‘And I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to a shower.’
‘As long as you didn’t clean it.’
He grinned. ‘No, it was quite clean.’
‘Hmm, see, I’m not a total loss.’
He gave her an odd look and seemed as though he was about to say something, but then he turned his attention back to the TV. ‘Okay, it’s that time of the year. We have cricket, or tennis, or cricket, or CSI re-runs.’
‘Tennis,’ said Rachel.
He glanced at her. ‘I thought you didn’t like sports?’
‘I don’t, but I find tennis very . . . meditative, don’t you reckon?’ she said. ‘You know, the tock . . . tock . . . tock . . .’ She tipped her head from side to side in time. ‘And the scorer guy up in his throne –’
‘The umpire?’
‘Yeah, him, he has all this power, I love it. He can scold the players, he can even tell the crowd to be quiet. I keep expecting him to say “Off with their heads!”’
Tom smiled, flicking over to the tennis just as a rather stunning South American–looking player was serving, stretching one arm up high as he gave the ball a powerful slam, at the same time exposing a tempting glimpse of taut brown abs.
‘And the guys are definitely hotter,’ Rachel added.
Tom nudged her leg with his foot. ‘What if I said that?’
‘If you said that I’d think you were gay.’
Sunday
Rachel had emerged out of a deep sleep a little while ago and had been contemplating getting up, but she wasn’t in any hurry. Then the phone started to ring. She’d left it in its charger out on the hall table, and she wasn’t about to leap out of bed to try to get to it in time; she’d let the machine pick it up. But then she heard footsteps in the hall, and she remembered Tom was here, and oh God! He wasn’t going to answer the phone, was he?
‘Tom!’ she cried urgently, scrambling to get out of bed.
He burst in the door. ‘What is it? Are you all right?’
‘Were you about to answer the phone?’ she demanded, coming around the end of the bed.
‘Christ, Rachel, I thought something was wrong,’ he said, visibly relieved.
‘Were you going to answer the phone?’ she persisted.
‘I didn’t want it to wake you.’
‘Tom!’ The ringing finally stopped. ‘You can’t answer my phone at . . . whatever time it is on a Sunday morning.’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
Catherine’s voice came over the answering machine. ‘Well, I’ve had about enough of this. Where are you, Rachel? If you’re still in bed, then pick up! I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday, don’t you ever listen to your messages? Why do you even have an answering machine? Is it just so you can screen calls? Mine, in particular?’
Rachel groaned. ‘I better get this.’ She stepped into the hall and grabbed the phone mid-sentence as Catherine continued her rant. ‘I’m here.’
‘Well, thank God for that,’ she said. ‘Did you get my messages yesterday?’
‘No, I didn’t even check the machine. I got . . . caught up with something.’ She looked up at Tom, still standing there in the doorway. She waved her hand to usher him out of the way. He nodded, mouthing ‘Sorry’ before turning back down the hall.
‘And you had your mobile phone off the whole time?’ Catherine was saying.
Rachel walked into her room again, closing the door behind her. ‘Um, no, I don’t know, did I?’
‘Well, it kept going straight to the recorded message saying you weren’t available.’
‘It’s probably flat,’ Rachel replied, falling back on the bed.
‘Honestly Rachel, you’re hopeless,’ said Catherine. ‘How did you not realise that by now and recharge it? What’s going on? Where have you been? I was ringing to find out how the date went . . . Hold on a minute! Is that it? Did things go really well –’
‘God, no,’ she baulked at the idea. ‘You think I’m going to spend the night with a guy I just met?’
‘Well, if you hit it off . . .’
Catherine had a confidence about sex that Rachel found a little confronting; she sometimes wondered if Catherine had any boundaries at all.
Like she could talk, after Friday night.
‘The date was an absolute disaster, Catherine. Turns out Phil’s married.’
‘Married married?’
‘What other type of married is there?’
‘You know, end-stage married, nominally married.’
‘Well I don’t know what any of that means,’ she returned, ‘but he claimed to be “emotionally” separated, though he still lives with his wife, and apparently she has no idea of his internet shenanigans.’
‘Look, some people need to explore their options before they make such a radical change in their lives,’ said Catherine matter-of-factly. ‘Think about it, when a person decides, for whatever reason, to leave their job, no one expects them to quit outright before they’ve checked out their prospects and made some enquiries, at the very least. In the majority of cases, people find another job first before they give notice.’
So that’s how Catherine justified her modus operandi. She always had someone waiting in the wings, ready to escort her out of a relationship that was floundering. Although publicly she had always made out that one followed the other, in consecutive order, she’d admitted drunkenly to Rachel one night that there was usually an overlap, that a dalliance had begun before she’d got around to ending the existing, unsatisfactory relationship. The thing was, Catherine was just incapable of being alone, it threatened her self-image too much. She needed the attention of a man to fan her ego.
‘Well, be that as it may,’ said Rachel, ‘there was no spark with Phil, no connection at all. I persevered through a couple of drinks and then I called it a night.’
‘Really? I didn’t think you had it in you to be so assertive.’
‘I can be assertive, it wasn’t that hard.’
‘So he mustn’t have been all that interested either.’
Rachel knew Catherine didn’t mean to offend, but sometimes her bluntness was a little hard to take, and Rachel certainly wasn’t in the
mood for it today.
‘Well, now that we’re all caught up,’ she said, ‘I better get on with my day.’
‘Hold on one minute, I won’t keep you from your busy schedule for much longer,’ Catherine said, laying on the sarcasm with a trowel. ‘I had another reason for calling.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You know how we were talking with Lexie that we really need to watch out for Tom?’
Rachel’s heart dropped into her stomach. Thank God video phones had never taken off in a major way.
Catherine didn’t wait for an answer. ‘He’s just as bad as you, I’ve been trying to get him all weekend as well. You don’t happen to have his mobile number, do you?’
God, for a minute then she thought she was going to ask her if she knew where he was. ‘Ah, yeah, I might.’
‘But it’ll be on your mobile and it’s flat, so send it to me when you recharge. Oh, but you’ll probably forget . . . Don’t worry, I’ll send you a reminder.’
‘Rightio.’
‘Anyway, my idea is to have the two of you over for dinner.’
Now Rachel’s heart was giving her indigestion.
‘With the girls, of course,’ Catherine went on. ‘That’s really the whole point of it. Even though there’s a year between them, Sophie and Alice have always got on well, and I think Alice, being the older one, could really be someone Sophie could confide in, you know, in a big sisterly way. And then of course Tom definitely needs someone to talk to about bringing up the girls now, and there’s nothing I can’t tell him.’
‘Then what do you need me for?’
‘Don’t be like that, Rachel.’
‘I’m not being like anything,’ she insisted. ‘I think what you’re saying is great, and you should have Tom over for dinner and discuss parenting and all that. But I’ll be like a shag on a rock, there’s nothing I can bring to the conversation.’
‘Look, without you it’ll just be the three of us, with Martin, and that’s, well, you know, three never works. I was thinking of having it one night when Martin was busy, but then who’d cook? And the thing is, Tom’s comfortable with you, you have that whole brother-sister thing going on.’
‘Yeah, just like you and Andrew.’
‘Hah! Anyway, it will make it a nice relaxed evening for everyone.’
Hah!
‘I just want to give Tom an opportunity to really open up.’
Hah hah . . . hah!
God, how was she going to get out of this? ‘Will you be inviting Lexie as well?’
‘For crying out loud, Rachel, what is it with this obsession about including Lexie in absolutely everything? She lives next door to Tom, she sees him all the time. And I’d have to ask her and Scott, and the whole tribe. It would be an entirely different kind of evening with toddlers running amok, “relaxed” not being one of the words anyone would employ to describe it.’
‘Well, then I shouldn’t come either, Catherine,’ said Rachel. ‘You have a perfectly valid reason to ask Tom and the girls over, but if I come too, for no good reason, then we are specifically discluding Lexie, and I’m not comfortable with that.’
Good. That ought to do it.
‘Rachel,’ Catherine said, ‘is there something you’re not telling me?’
She could write a book. Or at least a rather salacious short story.
‘Is it being around Tom that’s unsettling you?’ Catherine persisted. ‘Do you feel weird because of Annie?’
Weird didn’t begin to describe it.
‘If that’s the case, I think you have to put aside your own feelings and try to imagine how it is for poor Tom. He’s suddenly not part of a couple any more, and he’s probably not getting the invitations they used to. You’ve been through this, Rachel, you should understand. And dare I say, it would be a lot harder for him, under the circumstances. People are probably awkward around him. I wonder how he spends his weekends when the girls are off with their friends?’
Cleaning out my fridge.
‘He needs to be around people he feels comfortable with, who he has some history with, so he can be himself. Now, I’m sure you can find a way to reconnect with him, which is all the more reason you should come. So it’s settled,’ she said, wrapping up her one-sided argument. ‘I’ll let you know the details after I’ve spoken to him.’
Rachel wouldn’t argue with her now, she’d come up with an excuse when the time came. ‘Fine, talk to you later.’
She hung up the phone and sat up, thinking about what to do about Tom. Because something definitely had to be done about Tom. They’d had the loveliest time last night. The awkwardness had largely dissipated, and sitting there together, watching the tennis and making stupid jokes, adding commentary, improvising their own scoring system, was like slipping on a pair of old shoes, easy and comfortable. But Rachel realised she had to draw a line and finally be the responsible one. Tom was operating from a lonely, probably frightened place after losing the wife he adored. His obsessive need to take care of her was simply an attempt to make up for what he hadn’t been able to do for Annie. It was like penance. But enough was enough. She had to give him absolution and send him on his way. She stood up and walked determinedly out to the kitchen.
Tom looked around as she came into the doorway. ‘I made coffee,’ he said brightly. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘I’m feeling fine. Completely normal, no symptoms at all.’ Which was a tiny lie, because she’d actually been getting mild period-type cramps since she woke up, but she wasn’t about to tell Tom, he’d be calling an ambulance.
‘That’s great, Rach, I’m glad to hear it,’ he said, passing her a mug of coffee.
She took a sip and put it down on the bench. ‘Tom,’ she said firmly, ‘it’s time for you to go now.’
He opened his mouth to say something but she jumped in first.
‘No, no, the tables have turned. No discussion, you have to go home.’
‘Okay, I will, in another hour or so, once I can see you’re really all right now that you’re up.’
‘I’m really all right!’ she insisted. ‘And you have to go.’
He looked a little nonplussed. ‘What is it, because I nearly answered the phone? I promise I won’t do that again.’
‘No you won’t, because you’re not going to be here.’
He sighed, folding his arms and leaning back against the bench. ‘Are you mad at me?’
‘No, of course not,’ she insisted, softening. ‘I really appreciate that you stayed, Tom, and I really appreciate what you did on Friday night –’ Oh bugger ‘– you know, at the bar, rescuing me, and all that,’ she stammered.
‘Rachel, we haven’t talked about –’
‘No, we haven’t, and we’re not going to.’
‘Are we just going to act like it didn’t happen?’
‘I think if we can pull that off, it’s the best course of action.’
He looked at her for what felt like a long time. ‘You’re sure you’re okay with that?’ he said finally.
And then it struck her. Tom was feeling just as awkward, obviously. And maybe a little guilty as well. Not that Rachel thought he should feel guilty, not at all, but he probably couldn’t wait to get out of here and he was only trying to do the decent thing and not hurt her feelings. Well, that was a relief, to clear the air, to know where they both stood.
‘I’m absolutely okay with that,’ Rachel assured him. And she was, she didn’t feel a thing, a little numb if anything.
‘Because I’d really hate it if we couldn’t be friends, Rach,’ Tom said seriously.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘And I’ll prove it. Only a friend can tell another friend to piss off and give them some space.’
He smiled widely then. ‘Do you mind if I finish my coffee?’
‘Oh, okay, if you must.’
Thursday
Lexie sat staring at the computer screen, supporting her chin in the palm of her hand. Another email had arrived from Catherin
e, hounding her for her past employment details, dates, referees and the like ‘. . . or else how do you expect me to put your résumé together?’
Lexie sighed. She had hoped that if she just ignored the emails, Catherine would eventually lose interest. But she had underestimated her tenacity. She was like a dog with a bone. Lexie couldn’t understand why this was so important to her. One thing was becoming increasingly clear, she was going to have to confront Catherine eventually, or else be confronted by Catherine, which was more likely. Either way, Lexie needed to have her position clarified in her own mind if she had any hope of defending it. And the fact was, her position was as clear as mud. That was really the issue at the heart of things. It wasn’t that she was so afraid of standing up to Catherine – though she could certainly do without that – it was that being cornered this way had made her realise she didn’t know what she was going to do with her life for the next few years, and beyond that. She knew what she wanted, but was another baby even an option, realistically? She needed to know for sure, because it wasn’t something she could put off indefinitely.
But what did Scott want? Who knew? Certainly not Lexie. Lately he’d been working so hard, often getting home barely in time to kiss the kids goodnight. He was run off his feet at the café because they always erred on the side of understaffing every shift in an effort to save money. Sometimes they tried to call up a casual when they got too busy, but casuals were hard to find on a beautiful summer day. And all the time costs were going up – food, electricity, rates – and Scott was worried that it would be the rent next. He was running around like a mad thing putting out fires, but had he stopped to think about where he wanted to be in five years? Ten? Two?
They needed to talk. They hadn’t really talked about the future since before Mia. Well before Mia. It used to be all about the future all the time, making exciting plans: the wedding, buying the house, the renovations, deciding when to try for a baby and then falling pregnant the very same month. Once Riley had arrived safe and healthy, and they got past the blur of the first few months, they talked about a reasonable space between kids, because having an only child had never been an option for either of them. So they settled on the month she’d go off the pill.
Three’s a Crowd Page 18
