‘– back from the dead –’ Helen threw in.
‘I’m not dead!’ he squeaked. ‘I’m the head of this family –’ The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a storm of laughter.
‘Thank you, Claire, thank you, Helen.’ I threw on my coat. ‘The rest of you, you’re insane and very mean. Bye.’
Breathless with hurt and fury, I flung myself into my car and headed for Quin’s.
Quin stared hard at me. ‘Last night you said you wouldn’t see him again. Twelve hours later, you spent half the day with him. Rachel? Should I … be worried?’
‘No. Not at all. Quin, can I try to explain? Since yesterday, all these feelings about Yara have suddenly come out of … wherever I’ve managed to stash them for the last six years. I’m grateful for the chance to talk about her.’
‘You can talk about her with me.’
‘I know. And that’s lovely of you.’ I was trying to find the right words and, at the same time, avoid hurting him. ‘But talking about her with the one other person who loved her like I did …’
‘I understand that,’ Quin admitted. ‘It’s just …’ Suddenly infuriated, he exclaimed, ‘I never get to feel sure of you.’
‘But you can! Quin, I haven’t done anything wrong.’
All of a sudden, he looked exhausted. My heart twisted with frustration, then softened with pity for him.
‘Just …’ His voice was weary. ‘If anything changes, be honest with me.’
‘It won’t change. I’m mad about you. We’re together.’ I love you hung in the air, unspoken. But to say it now, in response to his insecurity, would have felt wrong.
‘I’m completely serious,’ he said. ‘I can cope with anything except being lied to. “Protected from the truth” is the worst thing you could do to me. Even if you know you’re going to hurt me, I’d prefer the facts.’
‘Okay. But –’
‘Do you swear?’
‘Yes, but honestly, Quin –’
‘Let’s leave it there.’
56
It was something I kept to myself but I actually liked Mondays. My little ducklings were in such a process of constant change that it was exciting to sit in the Abbot’s Quarter and see what might have developed over the weekend.
But this Monday, as I hurried along, hoping for a good chair, dread had me in a chokehold. I felt spacey, slightly disconnected from reality – hardly surprising, considering all the turmoil of the weekend – and braced for something bad.
Which I narrowed down to an outburst from Luke.
Sometime during last night’s broken sleep I’d seen that he was angry with me. Despite his mixed messages – the Denver Goodbye showed he was trying to be nice – his anger had kept leaking out.
He had never actually said that he blamed me for Yara’s death – but it was clear that he had. And probably still did.
He was going to accuse me, that was what I was dreading – hearing those terrible words. The irony, though, was that I no longer blamed myself. I hadn’t, not since the meditation weekend where I’d met Quin.
Quin hadn’t known me from a hole in the ground but our strange connection during the LovingKindness exercise had absolved me. It was the greatest gift I’d ever been given.
No matter what Luke still thought, Yara’s death hadn’t been my fault. I had to remember that.
My phone rang, making my brain bounce off the ceiling of my skull. God, I was in bits. But it wasn’t Luke, as I’d expected. Instead, it was Bronte’s husband, brusque and bossy. ‘Our eldest child, Freya, is flying in from San Francisco tomorrow morning. Just for the day. She’s coming in to confront her mother.’
Is she now? Is she indeed?
That wasn’t how it worked – he didn’t get to decide Bronte’s schedule. And had he forgotten there were six other people in Bronte’s group? There could be countless things already tabled for tomorrow.
Coolly, I said, ‘I need to check the agenda, there may not be an opportunity for Freya to –’
‘She’s catching a flight back straight after her session. We’ll be with you at ten a.m. Leaving at eleven.’ And he hung up.
The high-handed fucker!
As it happened, tomorrow morning could be freed up. But I’d get no chance to interview Freya, to brief her. Her written testimonial had been worse than useless – she had nothing but lovely things to say about Bronte. And was there any point in her coming if she wasn’t capable of a tough conversation?