by Sandie Jones
‘Rachel!’ he says, instinctively covering himself with his hands.
She immediately senses that she’s standing between them and their modesty, and reaches for their towels on the sunbed whilst her misplaced rage dissipates.
‘I’m . . . I’m so sorry,’ she stutters, embarrassment flushing her cheeks.
Will reaches out one hand to take the towel and she half-throws it at him to avoid him coming any closer. Just a few minutes earlier, she’d wished for more light to shine on the identities of whoever was in the pool, but now she’s eternally grateful that it’s as dark as it is.
‘It’s okay.’ Ali laughs, with a hand on one hip, clearly in no rush to shield herself from Rachel’s prying eyes. ‘We were just having a last get-together before Will goes off to the hotel.’
Rachel knows she should turn away, but she can’t help but look, desperate to know that Ali is just the same as her. But, Rachel muses as her eyes sweep over Ali’s perfectly formed hourglass figure, you’re nothing like me.
In the outfits she wears, Ali’s body looks like it belongs to a glamour model, squeezed into dresses that are two sizes too small. But without unforgiving structures holding her in and up, her purest form is breathtaking. Her breasts sit perfectly, accentuated by her tiny waist that nips in before curving into hips that Kim Kardashian would be proud of. She’s tanned all over, except for one triangle, making her limbs look long and lean, with not an ounce of excess weight anywhere.
‘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 arsed.
‘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 backwards 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 with go-faster stripes.
‘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 towards 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, whilst knowing she’d feel better for it 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 forwards 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 in the circumstances.’
‘Have you said anything?’ she asks.
His eyes narrow. ‘To who?’
‘Jack,’ says Rachel, unable to believe she needs to spell it out. ‘Or Paige.’
She’s relieved to see him look at her as if she’s mad. ‘Of course not,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe you even need to ask.’
‘Not even at the time?’ she adds. ‘You didn’t ever insinuate or allude to what had gone on?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘More’s the pity.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘If I had,’ he says. ‘It might have saved us all the bother.’
She goes to speak, but the weight of his words sits heavily on her shoulders.
‘And nothing was mentioned last night,’ she asks, her paranoia getting the better of her, ‘when Paige came up to bed?’
Noah shakes his head. ‘I was asleep by then.’
‘Jack didn’t come up until some ungodly hour this morning, either. What if she’s told them?’
‘Who?’ asks Noah.
‘Ali!’ she exclaims.
‘Well, if she’s told them she saw me trying to kiss you, then I’ll hold my hands up and blame it on water on the brain.’ He laughs, but Rachel remains stony-faced at his attempt of a joke. Nothing about this is funny, she thinks.
‘And what if she heard us?’ she asks. ‘Heard us talking about . . .’ She can
’t bring herself to say it. ‘What are we going to do then?’
‘She wouldn’t have heard anything,’ says Noah. ‘She was too far away.’
His attempt to assuage Rachel’s darkest fear is silently appreciated, though she doesn’t like to admit that he was too drunk to be able to judge distances, or his behaviour.
‘And if Paige had any inkling of what went on, I can assure you, we’d both know about it by now.’
Rachel feels momentarily satisfied. He’s right – Paige had seemed completely normal just now.
‘She might have told Jack, then,’ she says, her mind in overdrive. ‘After Paige had gone to bed.’ Though, even as she’s saying it, she knows that talking is the last thing they’d be doing if they’d unexpectedly found themselves on their own. The thought makes her feel sick.
‘Well, have you seen him this morning?’ asks Noah.
‘He went out about twenty minutes ago,’ she says, though she doesn’t admit that she’d pretended to be asleep when he left.
‘Well, there you go then,’ says Noah, smiling. ‘I think it’s safe to say we’re in the clear.’
‘This isn’t a game,’ she says, unable to believe his cavalier attitude.
‘I’m not treating it as such,’ says Noah, turning to look out across the ocean. ‘I’m sorry for trying to kiss you, but I don’t regret it.’
‘You don’t regret it?’ says Rachel in a shrill voice. ‘We’re both married, and in case it’s escaped your attention, our partners are here with us. They could have seen. They could have heard.’
Noah looks at her. ‘But they didn’t.’
Rachel tsks. ‘I would ask that you stay away from me today,’ she says. ‘I don’t want Ali to see us together.’
Noah nods. ‘So, when are we going to talk about—?’
‘Speaking of the devil,’ says Rachel, cutting him off. ‘I’d better go and check on her, as we don’t want the bride oversleeping, do we?’
‘We need to talk,’ says Noah after her, but she pretends not to hear.
She can feel his eyes watching her as she disappears down the stairs which lead to Will and Ali’s room. He’s no doubt dismayed at how she can switch off her emotions so easily. She doesn’t want him to see that she can’t.
‘Ali,’ she calls as she knocks on the bedroom door. ‘Are you up?’
An image of Ali lying face down on her bed, unconscious, suddenly floats into her mind. If she was no longer around, then Rachel wouldn’t have to suspect Jack of having an affair. But even more than that now, she wouldn’t have to fear that her innermost secret is about to be exposed.
She knocks again. ‘Ali?’
When there’s no sound or movement, Rachel quietly opens the door. ‘Wow!’ she says out loud as she’s met with a wall of glass holding back the water of the pool. The sunlight is penetrating the surface, sending shafts of light underwater. It’s spectacular, though Rachel can’t help but feel grateful that she didn’t have this vantage point when Will and Ali were in the pool last night.
‘Are you in here?’ she asks, tiptoeing towards the en suite.
She steps over a pair of trainers and, as she stops stock-still, staring at them, her heart crashes into a brick wall. She gasps, remembering Ali’s insistence that she’d join Jack for a run. She’d pitied her desperate attempt to be with him, so sure that it was nothing but an unrequited infatuation. But everything that has happened since, points to it being so much more. Now she pities herself for being so naive. They were never going for a run, were they? Though, she’d have expected Ali to at least pretend they were.
Rachel falls onto the bed, trying desperately hard not to imagine what the pair of them might be doing. How could they do it to her? How could they do it to Will, who she feels even more sorry for? He thinks Ali’s the love of his life, yet she’s sneaking around with his own brother on their wedding day. Rachel doesn’t want to admit it, but whatever it is she’s doing to keep both brothers so enthralled, she must be doing it well.
Unable to help herself, she goes to the chest in the corner and slides the top drawer open. Inside is a kaleidoscope of lace knickers and matching bras in every colour imaginable. They make Rachel itch just looking at them, but she doesn’t suppose they’re on long enough for Ali to feel the slightest irritation. Just comparing this to her own underwear drawer, where everything is off-white and a hundred per cent cotton, almost offers enough reason for Jack to be unfaithful.
No, she says, pulling herself up. Nothing justifies what he’s doing.
She’s about to close the drawer, when a glint of silver in the corner catches her eye. It’s partially covered by a barely there thong, which she flicks to one side with an outstretched finger.
There’s no doubt about what it is, but Rachel just stands there, hoping that if she stares at it hard enough, it will change into something else. She waits, but no part of the royal-blue bezel, or the second hand that’s ticking silently away, morphs into anything other than the watch she bought Jack for their ten-year anniversary.
She picks it up, feeling the weight of it in her hand. It could be an identical one, she supposes – perhaps Ali’s planning on giving it to Will as a wedding present. But as she slowly turns it over, the engraving on the back is undeniable.
Darling Jack, I’ll love you forever, Rachel
Stumbling out of the room, Rachel desperately tries to chase away the video that’s playing in her mind’s eye. She pictures Ali and Jack lying in each other’s arms, spent from a marathon sex session, congratulating themselves on how clever they’re being and how easy it is to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes.
But they’re making silly mistakes and their complacency is about to be their undoing.
She wonders if they even care. Maybe they’re banking on being found out because neither of them are brave enough to stand up and be held accountable. Perhaps that’s the only way they can see this ridiculous charade of a wedding being called off. Is Jack begging Ali not to go through with it? Promising that they can be together if she doesn’t? Or have they decided that her getting married to Will is the perfect cover story for them to be able to continue their illicit affair?
Rachel’s breath catches in her throat as she imagines Ali telling Jack about what she saw and heard last night? If they’d ever felt guilt-ridden about what they were doing, unable to sleep for fear their consciences may strangle them in the night, she’d handed them the perfect antidote on a plate.
‘I think she saw and heard everything,’ says Rachel as she rushes back to Noah on the terrace. ‘And she’s just waiting for the right time to say something.’
He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy peering through a pair of binoculars trained onto the beach.
‘Mmm, you might be right,’ he says, slowly and deliberately, as if it’s taking all his concentration to look and talk at the same time.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks, finding it hard to hide her irritation at how blasé he’s being about this.
‘I just found these on the desk in there,’ he says, tilting his head in the direction of the living room. Rachel had noticed them yesterday and had been meaning to watch the surfers, assuming that was what they were there for.
‘Here,’ he says, without moving from the spot he’s standing on.
‘What is it?’ she asks, going to him.
He moves himself around her so that she’s standing in front of him, the pair of them facing back towards the beach. He carefully takes the binoculars away from his face and without losing the line of vision passes them over Rachel’s head into her waiting hands.
She’s almost too frightened to look.
‘There,’ he says, pointing. ‘Just to the right of the surf shack.’
Rachel squints through the lenses, holding her breath as if she’s watching a horror film, not knowing what’s going to jump out from where. ‘What am I looking for?’
Noah gently moves her head a fraction and then she sees it. A turquoise-blue top, j
ust like the one Paige was wearing when she left for her run. Except she’s not running. She’s standing stock-still, with her hands on her hips, talking to . . .
‘Is that Ali?’ Rachel asks hoarsely, feeling as if the air is being squeezed out of her.
‘It looks like it,’ says Noah solemnly.
Rachel can’t think straight. ‘But . . . I don’t understand . . . what are they doing?’
Noah sighs heavily. ‘Exactly what we don’t want them to do,’ he says.
Rachel’s legs turn to jelly, rendering them useless under her weight. She falls onto a nearby chair, but she can’t stop them from shaking. The fear of Ali telling Paige about last night hits her like a ten-tonne truck.
‘This is all your fault,’ she shouts at Noah.
‘My fault?’ exclaims Noah, jabbing himself in the chest with his own finger. ‘I haven’t been the one keeping this a secret for twenty years.’
‘And it would have stayed that way, if you hadn’t have said and done what you did last night.’
Noah sits down heavily in the chair opposite Rachel and puts his head in his hands. ‘We don’t know that’s what they’re talking about,’ he says. ‘We’re jumping to conclusions.’
Rachel forces herself to ask what else they might be doing, both of them purporting to have gone for a run, even though Ali left her trainers behind. And what is Jack’s part in all of this? Where is he, if he’s not with Ali? The irony that he’s probably the only one doing what he said he was going to bears down on Rachel’s shoulders.
She brings the binoculars up to her eyes again, as if questioning whether it really is Paige and Ali. For a moment, she thinks they must have both been seeing things, as she can’t see any sign of them, but then she trains the lenses to the right of the surf shack, and there they are, deep in conversation. Rachel tries to interpret their body language; Paige is by far the most assertive, with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side. Whilst Ali seems to be doing most of the talking, gesticulating wildly with her hands.
For a moment, Rachel allows herself to believe that they’ve either, quite literally, just run into each other, or, worst-case scenario, Paige is taking Ali to task over how she’s been behaving around Jack. Could Ali be offering her an explanation? Might Paige be telling her that she’ll be keeping a close eye on her from now on in?
