Under his breath, but loud enough to be heard, Lowry muttered, ‘Fuck’s sake.’
‘I’m not trying to be a smart alec,’ Trassa said gently. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘No one is stopping me. As such,’ Lowry said. ‘But – okay! Let’s be real here – the money for the weddings is good. I got used to it, I like it. So shoot me.’
Dennis and Chalkie exchanged a look and Dennis sniggered.
‘What?’ Lowry asked. ‘I’m meant to be ashamed of earning a living?’
‘Keep reading,’ I said.
Sienna had broken up with him because she ‘couldn’t accept me as I am’。
‘How are you “as you are”？’ Bronte dripped contempt.
‘Too much of a free spirit.’
‘Hah!’ Chalkie was scornful and delighted. ‘Which translates as “can’t keep your lad in your jocks”。 Amirite?’
‘Hey, smackhead.’ Lowry stood up.
‘Sit. Down,’ I ordered. Jesus Christ, fisticuffs were the last thing we needed. Lowry was a lot taller than Chalkie but my money would have been on the little guy.
Lowry made a show of reluctantly sitting back down again, while Chalkie lounged in his chair, eyeballing him. ‘You’re a joke,’ Chalkie informed him. ‘A fucking joke.’
‘We can’t all come from central-casting deprivation. Okay, so my mum didn’t die of a heroin overdose but my feelings are as worthy as yours.’
‘Lowry, you crossed a line. Apologize to Chalkie.’
‘Jesus, Rachel, I don’t need his meaningless, middle-class apology.’
‘But Lowry needs to do it.’
When group ended, I powered on my phone. Still nothing from Quin. Feeling sick, I rang him and once again it went to message. ‘Quin? Please can we talk? I can come over later.’
Because I didn’t know what else to do, I typed up my daily notes, said goodnight to everyone and ran down the steps, out into the evening light.
Then – surprising me – Quin rang. ‘I’m out tonight. Pints with Golden, some of the others. Planning to climb Denali in May.’
This was the first I’d heard of any of it – pints, climbs – but I was being punished and this was how Quin wanted to do it.
‘Could we see each other afterwards?’ I asked.
‘Nah. Could be a late one.’
‘Tomorrow night?’
‘… Don’t think so.’
‘Quin, please –’
‘Maybe later in the week. Depends.’ And he was gone.
74
Nola sat me in her conservatory, draped me in a soft, silky shawl, made me tea and insisted I eat a scone.
The soft wool around my neck was a comfort. ‘Is this a Tibetan prayer shawl?’
‘It is not, they’re only cheap muslin. That’s your finest lambswool from Takashimaya in Osaka. So tell me what’s going on, pet? A rough idea.’
‘Is Quin breaking up with me?’ I asked.
‘Park Quin for the minute. You’ve hurt him, he needs time. Meanwhile, you’ve bigger things to think about.’
‘Like …？’
‘Rachel …’
‘So.’ I took a breath. ‘I think … after Yara died I – I …’ It was so painful to say the word. ‘… relapsed.’
Nola nodded, not even remotely surprised.
Then, neither was I. ‘Of course you knew.’
‘How could I not, pet? How many times did poor Luke ring me that winter? Asking me to talk sense to you? Dozens. And you insisting he was punishing you for letting your little girl die –’
‘– I thought he did blame me.’
‘A terrible thing happened to you, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t relapse.’
‘Nola, I didn’t know. I was in such pain and I couldn’t sleep and I needed to and … I took sleeping pills. More than I should have.’ Fuck. ‘I lied to doctors. To Luke. To you, Nola. To Claire and Anna and Olga Mae.’
‘And yourself, while we’re about it.’
Oh God. For six years I’d had my version of how things had played out and I’d been wrong.
‘Nola, I’ve been back in Ireland for years, why didn’t you say it before now?’
She laughed sadly. ‘Every time I broached it, you reminded me that your baby had died. That’s where we always got stuck. Rachel, what you went through with Yara would break anyone’s heart but you used it to justify your capers.’ Gently, she said, ‘How often did I tell you that you and Luke needed to talk?’