Again, Rachel, page 49
My crush had lasted too long. Now it was just making me miserable. It was time to cop on, to be grateful for all the good that had come from meeting Luke again, from him being my friend.
90
About a week later, when his name popped up on my phone, my heart soared. Yeah, so Rome wasn’t built in a day. Next time I’d do better.
‘Hey,’ I said to him.
‘Hey, yourself!’ And there was his beautiful face. ‘So I’m coming to Ireland again for a few days.’
‘Oh. Right. Great.’ Or maybe not. Time would tell.
‘Could we meet? I’ll be there from the fourteenth of August to the seventeenth.’
‘Oh, I’ll be with Brigit! Working at her summer school.’
‘Are we ever going to see each other again?’ He strove for a jokey tone but he sounded genuinely exasperated.
‘There’s no chance you could change your dates?’
‘No. It’s legal stuff, involving other people.’
‘Your mum’s will?’
‘Wha–? Oh, no.’ Then, ‘Nothing like that.’
An odd little pause followed.
Did he want me to ask for details? I sensed he did, but what if I was just projecting? How excruciating would that be?
‘So …’ I said. ‘Will you be in Ireland for Christmas?’ As conversational gambits go, this was poor stuff: Christmas was five months away.
But, surprising me, he said, ‘We’re going to Malta, all of us. First one without Mum, no one wants to try to recreate Marjorie’s Christmas dinners, not this year anyway, it’s too sad. We’re going to the sun instead. Dad’s idea. He’s put Vanessa in charge, God love her.’ Then, ‘Would you like to come?’
‘Haha.’
‘Seriously. There are dozens of us. Devin and Kate are coming. So is Mattie’s son’s girlfriend and Vanessa’s daughter’s fella. No one would notice an extra person.’
Is Kallie going? Are they still together?
‘So many people have confirmed, then pulled out, then confirmed again that there’s bound to be a spare bed.’
Ask him, Yara yelled. For the love of all that’s holy!
‘Haha,’ I repeated dully.
‘Well, think about it …’
This time I didn’t even bother with my fake haha. ‘Listen, I’ve seen the jeweller, she’ll have the two little pieces ready in maybe seven weeks. So I’ll mail them to the same address as I sent the petals?’
‘Ah.’ He seemed startled. ‘No, Rachel. No. Let’s see … Could you send them to Justin’s? That’s probably the safest.’
‘They can go Fedex if you’re worried about them getting lost in the post?’
‘No. Ah … no. Just …’
‘Oh?’ Then something made me brave enough to ask, ‘Are you … moving house?’
‘Yes.’
In with Kallie?
Ask! Him!
Rachel, for the love of God, ask him!
After a long, awkward pause, he said, ‘How’s Helen?’
He always asked – and I appreciated it. No one else seemed worried.
Although, why would they be? Helen was fine.
91
‘Hi.’ I smiled at a woman who looked vaguely familiar.
I had dropped into a Thursday evening NA meeting in Blackrock. It wasn’t one of my regulars but it was as good as any.
‘Kitchen’s that way.’ Someone pointed to the side of the room.
After I’d made a mug of camomile tea, I was looking for a chair when I felt something behind me. I turned to see a knot of radiant faces – to my astonishment it was Chalkie, Bronte, Giles, Roxy and Lowry.
‘Rachel!’ Bronte declared. ‘Is it really you?’
‘What …?’ Giles looked stupefied with shock. ‘Why are you here?’
I glanced at Chalkie, who discreetly drew an imaginary zip across his mouth. Clearly, he hadn’t told the others about me being in recovery.
‘Same reason as you,’ I told Giles.
‘Is this a new development?’ Roxy was absolutely stunned. ‘Or …’
‘Not new.’ I smiled. This was funny. Lovely. I was delighted to see them.
But almost my first thought had been, Are Chalkie and Bronte a thing? It was hard to tell just from looking at them.
‘Are we allowed to talk to you?’ Lowry asked.
‘Course we are, ya cretin.’ This from Chalkie. ‘We’re all equal in NA.’
‘And outside of NA,’ Giles said.
Chalkie slanted him some reluctant approval. ‘We’ll make a socialist of you yet.’
‘You absolutely won’t.’
I beamed around at the five of them. ‘Every one of you looks great.’
‘Clean and serene,’ Chalkie said. ‘That’s us.’
‘How come you’re all together tonight?’
‘We do it all the time!’ Roxy said.
‘Touring,’ Lowry said. ‘Keeping it fresh. Trying out lots of different meetings.’
‘We’re friends,’ Chalkie said. ‘Good friends.’ Then, watching me, he mouthed, Just.
Okay. Good. That was the right thing for both of them.
‘Are you in touch with …?’ Then I wished I hadn’t asked. At least one of the recent ducklings wouldn’t have made it.
‘Dennis and I text,’ Bronte said. ‘He’ll be bouleversé when he hears about us meeting you.’
‘I’m in contact with Trassa,’ Giles said. ‘She’s doing well. Very well. And Harlie’s good. Sober. Going to AA.’
An awkward silence followed.
‘Ella, though …’ Chalkie said. ‘She … ah. Went back on the tablets.’
My heart slid towards my toes.
But it happened. Not everyone who went to rehab was ready or able. Or willing. Maybe Ella’s time would come in another year or so.
And maybe it never would.
That was addiction, the ugly truth of it. Some addicts would never recover.
Meanwhile, there were five people here tonight who were getting well and I’d played a part in it. There was a lot to be happy about.
‘Sit in here with us.’ Chalkie urged me into the middle of their cluster of chairs.
‘All that time you were running group,’ Bronte mused, ‘you were in recovery?’
‘We were terrified of you,’ Giles admitted.
‘And kinda obsessed,’ Roxy said. ‘Wondering what you did when you weren’t scaring us shitless.’
‘If you had a cat?’
‘A boyfriend?’
‘A girlfriend?’
‘Where you bought your trainers …?’
‘No wonder you were so good at it.’ Bronte was still chewing over my dual identity. ‘Are all the counsellors in recovery?’
‘In the Cloisters? I think I’m the only one at the moment. But the woman who was my counsellor when I was there –’
That made them squeal. ‘You went to the Cloisters too!’
‘Yes.’ They were so cute. ‘She was in recovery.’
Sister Josephine. The greatest of them all.
Almost ten years ago, she’d died, having helped literally hundreds of us get clean and sober. She was still my inspiration every single day.
92
Four nights later – a Monday – I zipped into the Dundrum car park, heading for Aldi. I had twenty minutes before it closed.
Hurrying past Marks & Spencer, making for the top floor, the over-lit mall was almost deserted. Someone had once told me this was the very best time to do your weekly shop.
Behind me, a person called, ‘Rachel?’
I turned. It was – of all people – Quin. ‘Hey!’ Spontaneously, I gathered him into a hug. Smiling into his face, I declared, ‘It’s so nice to see you.’
In less excitable but still friendly tones, he said, ‘And it’s so nice to see you.’
We stood, grinning at each other – which was strange because our last encounter had been absolutely horrible.
‘How are you?’
‘I am …’ He had to think about it. ‘I’m okay. You? What are you up to?’
I slid my hands from his shoulders, I shouldn’t be pawing him. ‘Going to Aldi. You?’
‘Going in here.’ He pointed at Marks & Spencer.
‘Of course you are.’ I’d just remembered who’d given me the tip-off about the Monday night shopping – Quin! Who else?
‘Have you time for a drink?’ he asked.
‘Sure. Where should we go? Oh, you’ll know somewhere fabulous.’
He cast a hunted glance around the glaringly bright concourse. ‘The best I can come up with is the café in House of Fraser. Jesus, I can’t believe I just said that.’
‘Haha, come on, let’s go.’
‘I’d honestly prefer to sit in a shop doorway and drink bottles of Buckfast. There has to be someplace better … Got it. Five-minute walk outside. You up for that?’
‘Sure.’
Escaping the glass and chrome monolith, we made our way along Dundrum’s original small-town streets.
‘In here, Rach.’ Quin pushed at a low door on the main street and ushered me through a tiny pub to a flower-filled courtyard beyond. Very quiet – not many takers on this summer night.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ I said. ‘Why am I even surprised?’
‘Obviously spending time with the wrong sort of men. Drink? Fizzy water?’ In moments, Quin was back with a bottle of IPA and a glass of water. He sat opposite me.
‘Thanks, I –’
‘So?’ He interrupted. ‘You and your ex-husband?’
God. No pleasantries, just straight in? Okay.
‘He went back to Denver. It was just a, you know, a one-off.’
A shock of sadness lit Quin’s eyes. ‘So it was all for nothing.’
Not exactly. Luke and I didn’t pick up where we’d left off all those years ago, but some good had come from our night together.
Quin cleared his throat, then he fixed me with a look. ‘You sort of … broke me, you know?’
‘I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I was – am – incredibly sorry for hurting you.’
‘I missed you badly. It was … hard going for a while. I loved you, you know. Did you ever … feel …?’
‘I did love you.’
‘But?’
‘I wasn’t ready. To commit, fully. I was stuck, as Nola kept saying.’
Silently, we both stared at the table. I began circling a knot in the wood with my thumbnail.
Quietly, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Rach. In a lifetime of dick moves, sleeping with Golden was the most dick of them all.’
‘Quin, no. It was my fault.’ The business with Golden had shocked and wounded me. But as far back as our first night in Barcelona, Quin had intuited what I was unable to face: that I’d fallen for Luke again. Quin had been thrashing about in pain, he hadn’t been able to help it. ‘I should have stayed away from Luke. Anyone could see it was dangerous and I did it anyway.’
He sighed heavily. ‘I was trying hard to be Mr So-Not-Bothered.’
The tip of my thumb was moving in furious circles on the tabletop.
His head bowed, Quin spoke quickly. ‘I was okay for the first week or so that he was around, then I began to feel the way I had during the weeks, months, whatever, when Shiv had stopped loving me and I was trying to not know. When you wake in the middle of the night and you know you’re right to be scared –’
‘Quin, I’m sorry –’
‘– when you said you wanted to sleep with him, it was almost a relief.’
Carefully, I said, ‘No judgement here but … you’d already slept with Golden by then?’
He winced. ‘Got my retaliation in first, just like I did with Shiv. As if that was ever going to work. Have I learnt nothing?’
‘Next time,’ I said. ‘You’ll get it right then.’
‘I dunno. Old dog, new tricks …’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘If the ex-husband hadn’t reappeared, do you think you and I would have gone the distance?’
This was something I’d given a lot of thought to. ‘I do. It’s obvious now that I wasn’t fully … available, I suppose the word is. But we all have baggage and, despite mine, I was very happy with you.’
‘So why did you do it? The lure of the bland food? The “outdoorsy” life?’ He shook his head. ‘Nah. It was those fucking leather … thighs?’
I couldn’t help smiling. ‘I got the chance to tidy up a lot of my past.’
And in doing so, I lost Quin. But everything comes at a cost.
I wondered if Quin and Golden were still a thing? ‘What about you and –’ I asked, at the same time as Quin said, ‘Is Bland Man still with the Grifter?’
‘Who – oh, you mean Kallie? As far as I know, yes.’
‘Seriously? Wow.’ He shook his head. ‘Respect. That was one risky game she played.’
‘How was it a game?’
‘Rach.’ He seemed incredulous. ‘Her! Checking you out! To see how you rolled, all the better to ensnare Mr …’ He waved his hand with contempt. ‘… Leather-Pants-Love-God.’
‘She wasn’t that cynical.’
‘Rach, she was a right chancer. I’m still waiting to be paid back for that doctor’s appointment.’
I faked a frown. ‘Maybe give her a quick text? Just a nudge?’ And we both managed to laugh.
‘Seriously, though,’ I said. ‘She was putting all her spare cash into her music career. Have some sympathy.’
‘Oh?’ he said, ‘I didn’t know … I’m sorry.’
The irony was that Quin had been the person who had played a risky game. When the threat of Luke appeared, he had stepped forward to meet it. It was Quin who had booked that doctor’s appointment for Kallie, Quin who had convinced me to have dinner with them. Betting – incorrectly – that the more I saw of Luke, the less I’d idealize him.
‘So what you’re saying is’, Quin said, ‘you backed the wrong horse.’
Quin wasn’t getting that, for me, it had been much more than a simple choice between two men. Luke had crashed back into my life as a catalyst, opening my eyes to complex truths, then leaving all kinds of dust to settle in new ways in new places.
‘Thing is,’ Quin said awkwardly, spreading his hands on the table, ‘I moved too fast to end things. Because I was ashamed of being the loser.’
I waited.
‘If – on the day after your mum’s party – if I could have coped with you having been with … ah … him, would you have given it a go? With me?’
I waited some more. ‘Have you forgotten that you’d already slept with Golden?’
That stymied him, but only briefly. ‘So we both fucked up. And now we’re quits.’
Things were very simple from Quin’s perspective: I’d hurt him, he’d hurt me back, and the counter was automatically reset to zero. But I was no longer the person I’d been before that night with Luke.
And right now, I wanted to know if Quin was still with Golden? Or someone else?
‘How are your sisters?’ he asked.
‘Helen’s pregnant! Sixteen weeks!’
‘Holy fuck! That’s … terrifying. Is she the first pregnant woman in the history of the world?’
‘No one has ever had morning sickness before. Or an ache in their lower back. The actual birth will be reported on the news like it’s a natural disaster.’
‘And Claire?’ He sighed. ‘I miss Claire.’
‘She misses you too. They all do. But everyone’s fine. What about Liberty and Finley?’
He brightened. ‘Liberty’s good. Going through a happier phase. And Fin is great. Does nothing but eat.’
‘That’s my boy. And your mum and dad? Michelle? Robert?’ He could feck off if he thought I was going to enquire about Shiv and Garrett.
‘All living their best lives.’ He threw me a wry glance. ‘Winning. At everything. Tennis. Happy marriages. Career trajectories.’
I wondered about asking if I could ‘reach out’ to them, then settled for saying, ‘Give them my love.’
Quin nodded at my empty glass. ‘Another?’
Oh. I looked at him with curiosity. Was I imagining that he was holding his breath? That I was?
There was a mood, as if a match were poised against flint, waiting to be struck. A moment passed. Then another. I exhaled. ‘No. Thanks. Work in the morning.’
He watched me, his expression hinting at something. ‘If I texted you in a few days, could we get a coffee?’
He was so confident, so persuasive, already certain I’d agree.
‘Quin. What about you and Golden? Was it a one-off …?’
My voice trailed away as I watched him flush. With an awkward laugh, he said, ‘We’re, ah – look, I don’t … She sometimes … Hey, you remember Prosser? How he and she …? Well, that’s still in play.’
‘And you too? You’re Golden’s sidepiece?’
‘… Ah, yeah. No.’
Fascinated, I watched his internal tussle: the consequences of a confession could be awkward, but he so badly wanted to boast.
‘It’s, as they say, complicated.’
As understanding dawned, I began to laugh. ‘Oh, Quin. Who is she? Not Shiv?’
‘Shiv?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘No. You don’t know her. Valeria is her name.’
Valeria? Where had I heard that …?
‘She works at the airport, at the private terminal.’
‘I’ve met her! One morning when I came to pick you up! She’s absolutely gorgeous. Young, though. Oh Quin, don’t treat her badly –’
‘I’m lovely to her.’ He gave me a longer look. As if to remind me of just how lovely he could be. ‘And she’s … great. Calls me Mr Quinlivan. When we’re –’ Abruptly he stopped.
Mother of God. ‘Look, it’s none of my business, but I’m not sure how “lovely” you’re actually being, if you’re still porking Golden on the sly.’
‘“Porking Golden on the sly”?’ he mused, then sighed. ‘And this is why I miss you so much.’
‘You don’t miss me. Not even a tiny amount.’ Affectionately, I added, ‘You great big eejit. Bye, Quin.’
