by Sandie Jones
‘Oh, for God’s sake, will you just listen to yourself?’ she says, exasperated. ‘In case it escaped your notice, Noah had been knocked unconscious and if it hadn’t have been for the quick actions of those around him, he might not have made it out alive.’
‘I’d taken a battering myself,’ he says. ‘But all you seemed to care about was him.’
Rachel is taken back to the intensity of that moment and instantly feels tears spring to her eyes. Like Paige, she would have given anything to know that Noah was going to be okay – but to the detriment of her own marriage? Yes, probably.
‘You’re behaving like a child,’ she says, uncomfortable with the realization that she’d put Noah before Jack. If not physically, then certainly mentally. She would rather have God strike her, Jack, or any of them down, than take away her first love. The shock of what she was prepared to sacrifice lodges in her throat.
‘What really went on between you two?’ he asks, not for the first time. ‘Because you can tell me that you were just friends until you’re blue in the face, but seeing you today suggests it was so much more.’
Should she tell him that they’d crossed the line just once, but that it had been the singular most defining moment of her life? That barely a day had gone past when she hadn’t transported herself back there, if only for a split second?
‘Absolutely nothing,’ she says, sticking to the agreement she and Noah had made shortly after he met Paige. They both knew that if they were to remain friends, in the way they wanted – in the only way they knew how, because after four years of living in each other’s pockets, they didn’t know how to be any different – they’d have to renounce any notion of something more ever having happened. Because neither Jack nor Paige would allow their friendship to continue if they thought there had ever been an iota of sexual chemistry between them.
‘But do you not see the way he looks at you?’
Rachel shakes her head. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘Oh, come on, Rach, you can’t possibly be that naive,’ he says loudly. ‘It’s so obvious, it’s staring you right in the face, and if you can’t see it, then you’re blind, unless you’re choosing to pretend it’s not going on.’
‘I don’t even have the words,’ she says, going to get her gold wedges from the top of the open suitcase that’s still sitting on the floor.
‘I should be used to it,’ Jack goes on, ‘but it’s hard, seeing him look at you the way he does. You don’t have to be Einstein to work out what he’s thinking about.’
‘After everything that’s gone on today, you’re honestly going to throw accusations around about how I reacted or how he looks at me?’ She tuts as if in disbelief. ‘Shouldn’t your overriding concern be that Noah’s okay?’
‘Shouldn’t yours have been to make sure I was okay?’ he snaps.
‘You’re insufferable,’ says Rachel, opening the door. ‘I’ll see you downstairs.’
‘Hey,’ says Noah, turning to look at her from where he’s standing on the landing, overlooking the living space below.
Rachel shrinks into herself, cringing at the thought of him having heard the conversation she and Jack have just had. By the way he’s looking at her, with expectant raised eyebrows, she’d bet that he has.
Every bone in her body wants to go to him, hug him and thank the Lord that he’s alive, but Jack has made that impossible by turning it into something it’s not.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asks, careful to keep a few feet between them.
‘I feel fine,’ he says, smiling. ‘It’s certainly swept a few cobwebs away.’
‘Do you think you’re okay to come to the rehearsal dinner?’ She doesn’t know whether she wants him to say yes or no. It would certainly be easier if he stayed at the villa, if Jack’s little outburst was anything to go by, but easy is not what she wants.
‘Yeah, I think I’ll be okay,’ says Noah. ‘I’ve taken some tablets just to ward off this headache and it’s probably wise to stay off the alcohol.’
‘Good idea,’ says Rachel. ‘Perhaps just stick to water to keep you hydrated.’
He laughs. ‘I don’t think there’s any chance of me being dehydrated,’ he says, with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. ‘I’ve got half the Atlantic Ocean keeping me afloat.’
Rachel can’t help but smile. ‘Well, just take it easy, okay? I think we’ve had quite enough drama for one day.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ says Jack, coming out of their room and walking past them. ‘There’s always room for a little bit more.’
8
‘Oh. My. God,’ says Paige under her breath.
Rachel follows her eyes to see Ali precariously climbing the steps beside the pool. She’s wearing a skin-tight red dress that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Rachel instinctively looks to Jack, whose eyes are staying firmly in his head; though she wonders how hard it must be for him to maintain that steely expression. Any red-blooded male would find it nigh on impossible not to react in some way to how Ali looks, though Jack is so unresponsive that Rachel would hazard a guess that even his pupils would be unchanged if she were to get up close enough to check. So, does that mean that he’s simply not bothered by what Ali says, does or wears, because he doesn’t care? Or has he conditioned himself not to react when his mistress, his brother’s fiancée, looks like she’s serving herself to him on a silver platter?
Mistress? She almost laughs out loud at the choice of words her brain has selected for what was surely a miscommunication on Jack’s part. Yes, there’s no doubt Ali was in their room this morning, but perhaps Rachel hadn’t been clear enough in her questioning. Had he actually said he hadn’t seen her or had Rachel taken it upon herself to assume that’s what he’d implied? She wonders whether there’s a difference.
Ali smiles and totters towards them on towering high heels, and Rachel can’t help but wonder what might be going through Jack’s mind. Is he imagining her on all fours with just her shoes on? She knows it would be his thing, as he’d just recently bought her a pair of Christian Louboutin red-soled spikes and they’d become something of a staple in the bedroom. They were often the last item she took off, if she took them off at all, as he loved the way they made her back arch. She liked wearing them because they made her feel more confident and it was easier to pretend to be somebody else. Though, if she’d known she was only helping him pretend that she was Ali, she may have thought differently.
She looks at him now, unable to believe that he would ever do anything to jeopardize what they have. Why would he? She gives him everything he could possibly want, as he does her in return. They are partners, in every sense of the word; promising to love and to cherish until death do us part, though it only occurs to Rachel now, as she watches her husband’s indifference to the blonde vision standing in front of him, that they’d skipped the part of their vows that promised to forsake all others.
No, she screams silently, hating herself for even thinking it. This is Jack we’re talking about. A man of principle. A man who has very little regard for anyone who resorts to cheating on their other half. He’d once called a guy out at work when his wife had turned up at the office to surprise him on his birthday, only to find that he’d already gone to a swanky restaurant to celebrate with his secretary instead. Jack had covered for him, but he’d gone storming round to the restaurant and taken his colleague to task in front of his shocked assistant.
‘I wiped that smug grin off his face,’ he’d said, as he’d furiously chopped onions that night. ‘It makes me so bloody mad. Why bother getting married in the first place, if you can’t keep it in your trousers?’
Rachel had laughed. ‘You sound like Paige. Are you sure you’re not a woman in disguise?’
She had never doubted his integrity for a second and she wasn’t about to start now. There were a hundred reasons why Ali could have been in their room this morning; she could have been taking him a coffee . . . asking him what he wanted f
or breakfast . . . seeing if Rachel was back from the supermarket. They were all perfectly justifiable. So why, then, did Jack deny seeing her?
Desperate to give him an excuse, Rachel wonders if Ali’s infatuated with him. If she thinks about it, every time they’ve seen each other recently, Ali’s been desperate to get Jack on his own. The last time they went for dinner, she disappeared to the toilet as soon as he excused himself, and even that morning, she’d been quick to say she’d go running with him. Perhaps, he’s embarrassed by it; ashamed that he’s somehow led her to believe that something could happen between them, when all he’s done is be friendly. It’s not his fault that she doesn’t have the filter that most other women have when it comes to how you behave in that situation. She doesn’t have a filter in any situation.
‘Is it too much?’ Ali asks now in that little girl’s voice of hers.
Rachel hadn’t even known she was staring at her. She pulls herself up and forces a smile.
‘It’s perfect,’ she says. ‘You look stunning.’
Though, Rachel can’t help but wonder that if this is Ali’s wedding eve outfit, what on earth is the day itself going to bring?
‘You look gorgeous, honey,’ says Will, grinning behind her.
‘Thank you, baby,’ says Ali.
‘Doesn’t she, bro?’ says Will, nudging Jack.
‘Er, yeah,’ says Jack awkwardly. As awkwardly as any man would, if he’d been asked by his brother what he thinks of his fiancée’s eye-popping outfit. ‘Yeah, you look great.’
Rachel can almost hear the squirm in his voice, not least because he’s been put on the spot, but also, she suspects, because he knows this very same woman, who purports to love his brother so much, was in his room that morning.
‘Okay!’ exclaims Ali. ‘That settles it. Let’s get this show on the road.’ She excitedly grabs hold of Will’s hand and pulls her ever-riding dress down with the other as they head back through the house.
‘I’ve never seen Jack look so uncomfortable,’ says Paige, as she follows Rachel into the minibus.
Rachel offers a tight smile. Her own erratic thoughts are enough to contend with, without Paige adding her unhelpful opinion to the shitstorm that is raging in her head.
As Noah climbs in, Rachel wills him not to sit next to her. Even though it would normally be the most natural thing in the world, Jack’s now made it feel the exact opposite. As if reading her mind, Noah takes the seat in front of hers.
‘Who are we waiting for?’ asks Will into the dark van.
‘Jack just went to grab his jacket,’ says Rachel.
‘And Ali,’ adds Paige, making Rachel’s jaw spasm involuntarily.
It’s ridiculous, but when Jack gets in less than a minute later, Rachel wishes the light was on so she could check for any signs that he’s been doing something he shouldn’t. Though, how she expects that to manifest itself, she doesn’t know. Perhaps an untucked shirt, a wipe of his lips, a hair out of place . . .
‘Stop!’ she silently screams as the internal monologue threatens to drive her insane.
‘Ooh, you smell nice, Jack,’ says Paige. ‘What have you got on?’
‘Erm, it’s Creed,’ he says, patting down his hair. ‘Aventus.’
‘That’s the same one Ali bought me for my birthday,’ says Will. ‘How funny is that?’
Rachel can sense Paige’s head turn towards her, but she doesn’t need to look at her to know what her expression will be saying.
‘Right, let’s get this party started,’ shrills Ali as she climbs on board with a bottle of champagne in her hand. She pops the cork and invites everyone to take a swig.
If she were eighteen, Rachel supposes she’d be the first to knock one back, but as a forty-two-year-old mother, she can’t help but feel it’s all a little tawdry and, if she is honest, a bit beneath her.
‘Rach, you’re first up,’ Ali calls out as she passes the foaming bottle back to her.
‘No, no,’ says Rachel. ‘I’m good thanks.’
‘Aw, come on, loosen up,’ whines Ali. ‘It’s the night before my wedding.’
Rachel is still shaking her head as Noah holds out the bottle, the effervescent bubbles forming a froth on his hand. Perhaps she is too ‘up herself’. Maybe if she didn’t take life so seriously and had a more devil-may-care approach like Ali, her husband wouldn’t feel the need to . . .
She pulls herself back from going down that road. God, this is going to be a long night if she’s going to question her husband’s fidelity every time he looks at his brother’s wife-to-be.
‘Down in one, down in one, down in one,’ Ali sings, encouraging Rachel to be reckless for once in her life and dare to enjoy herself.
Rachel looks around the expectant faces, all of them no doubt wanting her to have a drink for different reasons. An inebriated version of herself means Paige will have a dancing partner, Jack will have a willing participant in whatever roleplay he wants to engage in later, whilst Will and Ali will be happy under the misapprehension that she is having a better time if she’s drunk. She briefly wonders why any of them bother with her at all if she’s that dull when she’s sober. Or is it that they’re the boring ones and see her as good entertainment value when she’s had a drink? It’s only Noah, she notices, who turns to look at her with no selfish intentions at all. He smiles with kind eyes, asking nothing of her and expecting even less.
The bubbles go up her nose as she shows willing, but as the warm fizziness trails down her throat she’s reminded that she’s doing this for everyone but herself.
‘Woo-hoo!’ shrieks Ali, taking the bottle back as Rachel coughs and splutters. ‘That’s my girl.’
‘Oh, Jack, I saw this in town earlier and thought of you,’ says Ali, rummaging around in her clutch bag.
She produces a three-inch wooden figurine and hands it to Jack, who takes it before examining it.
‘What is it?’ says Paige, leaning in to take a closer look.
Jack turns it over in his hands before shrugging his shoulders.
‘It’s the Rooster of Barcelos,’ says Ali. ‘Haven’t you seen him? He’s the Portuguese national symbol; he’s everywhere – you can’t miss him.’
‘What did you buy him that for?’ asks a bemused Will.
‘Just as a little souvenir of the wedding and to thank him for being our best man,’ says Ali, with a smile on her face.
‘I think you’ll find he would have preferred an IWC watch as a Portuguese memento,’ says Will, laughing.
Ali slaps him playfully. ‘This is slightly more meaningful.’ She tuts. ‘It’s a symbol from medieval times.’
‘What does it represent?’ asks Rachel, because nobody else does.
‘It’s a fascinating story,’ says Ali. ‘When a landowner’s silver was found to be missing, the authorities arrested and charged a Spanish pilgrim who happened to be passing through the town of Barcelos. He protested his innocence, but with no other suspects, he was sentenced to be hanged.’
Rachel rubs at her head, unable to see the relevance of the preening bird Jack’s holding in his hand.
‘But, just before his death,’ Ali goes on, ‘he went to see the judge one last time to plead his innocence. He pointed to the roasted rooster on the dinner table in front of him and said it would come back to life to sing his innocence. The judge banished him to the gallows, but, just as the noose was being put around his neck, the rooster sprang to life.’
‘Did it save the pilgrim?’ asks Rachel.
‘Yes, he was set free,’ says Ali. ‘So, the moral of the story is that if you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.’
Rachel looks at Jack, who smiles tightly before putting the figure, which she can now see has red love hearts painted all over its plumage, into his inside pocket.
‘We’re here!’ exclaims Ali, a few minutes later, jumping up and down in her seat excitedly; the low cut of her dress edging dangerously close to revealing a nipple. If she manages to maintain her de
cency for the entire night, it’ll be a miracle.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ asks Paige as they clamber out of the minibus.
‘It’s just a rooster,’ says Rachel wearily, not wanting to hear any more of Paige’s theories, especially where Jack is concerned. ‘There’s no hidden meaning.’
Paige snorts derisorily. ‘It’s a cock,’ she says. ‘There’s all kinds of hidden meanings.’
9
It’s funny how just a couple of nights ago, the only thing Rachel had to worry about was how they were going to be spending their weekend. To the point that even when a text had popped up on Jack’s phone, she’d thought little of it, preferring instead to fixate on whether she was going to be subjected to a rowdy night club to celebrate Will and Ali’s nuptials or not. But now, all sorts of incidents are flashing up in her brain as she remembers them, suddenly conscious of what they might mean.
‘Who’s that?’ she’d asked, when ‘Can’t wait to see you’, had flashed up on the screen from where it lay upturned on the vanity unit as she and Jack brushed their teeth the night before they left.
‘Er, Will,’ he said, picking it up and taking it into the bedroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth.
‘Why doesn’t it say Will then?’ she’d asked, not because she was suspicious, but because she’d thought there might be something wrong with Jack’s phone.
‘He’s got a new number,’ Jack had said from the other room. ‘And I haven’t got round to saving it under his name yet.’
‘So, what do you think the venue will be like?’ she’d asked, thinking nothing more of it. ‘I’m hopeful that he’ll want to get married somewhere your parents will be proud of.’
‘Do you honestly think Will’s had a say in it?’ Jack had asked incredulously.
‘Well, I’m banking on his good taste prevailing,’ she’d replied, in between spitting out toothpaste.
