She’s just about to reach for the door handle when a hand grabs her arm.
“I’m glad I caught you,” says Maria.
Rachel smiles at Ali’s mother. “I’m sorry, I just need to…” She tilts her head to where she can see Noah retreating into the darkness, his arms swinging by his sides.
“Of course,” says Maria, letting go.
Rachel shifts from one foot to the other as she loses sight of Noah’s white shirt. “It’s okay,” she says, forcing a smile. “It can wait.”
Maria pats the stool next to her and as Rachel dutifully sits down, Maria picks up her hand and holds it tight.
“Just in case I don’t get an opportunity to speak to you tomorrow, I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” says Rachel in surprise. “What on earth for?”
“For looking after Alison; for taking her under your wing and welcoming her into the family. She was beginning to think she’d never meet the right person and then when she did, she was nervous about ingratiating herself.”
“Ali, nervous? I doubt that.” Rachel’s head is so full of Noah, and fuzzy with alcohol, that she doesn’t know whether she’s said the words out loud or not.
Maria smiles, suggesting that she might have. “You see, Alison may come over as confident, but it’s just her way of coping.”
“Coping?” queries Rachel, not sure that she’s interested enough to care. She has a bigger problem to deal with.
“It’s just that she’s been through a lot,” Maria goes on. “And it’s all a bit of a front she hides behind.”
That’s no excuse to be a pathological liar, Rachel wants to say. To tell your husband-to-be that you’re desperate to have children and then behind his back admit you’re not ready. To pretend that David Friedman was coming to your wedding, but had to cancel at the last minute.
“She was bullied terribly when she was younger and she sometimes over-compensates,” says Maria, as if in answer. “So, please don’t think that how she is on the outside is how she’s feeling on the inside. There’s a shy and timid girl in there, whose only wish is to be accepted for who she is.”
There’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of Rachel’s stomach: is Maria as naive to Ali, and all that she’s capable of, as everyone else?
She almost feels compelled to tell Maria how Ali behaves around Jack, in the hope that she’ll allay her concerns. But in light of how she’d greeted him, Rachel fears she’ll only stoke the fire instead of putting it out.
“Why was she bullied?” Rachel asks instead.
“Oh, I’d rather not say,” says Maria, suddenly flustered.
Of all the scenarios that play out in Rachel’s head at that moment, she shocks herself when she settles on an inappropriate relationship with a teacher being the most likely. She can all too easily picture Ali flirting outrageously, encouraging a response and sharing all the sordid details—true or otherwise—with her peers. Rachel imagines it might have made her popular, for a brief moment in time, but as soon as the shit hit the fan, any friends she thought she had would have run for the mountains.
“We had to move schools three times, but the bullying just seemed to follow her wherever she went.”
“That must have been very difficult,” says Rachel, putting a hand on top of Maria’s.
“It was.” She sniffs. “But to see her now, as happy as she is, more than makes up for it.”
“Will is a wonderful man,” says Rachel. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“And he’s a lucky man,” says Maria, smiling wistfully. “I know she’ll make the most loyal and loving wife.”
Rachel forces herself not to balk. Clearly Maria doesn’t know her daughter quite as well as she thinks she does.
11
“Noah!” Rachel calls out as she tentatively edges toward the orange grove that she saw him disappear into. The citrus scent travels on the breeze, which, despite it having a nip to it, Rachel can barely feel as alcohol and adrenaline rush through her system. “Noah!” she says again, her voice struggling to be heard over the chorus of cicadas singing in the trees overhead.
The light is diminishing into nothing the further she goes, and she can feel the ground underneath her wedge heels change; they struggle to negotiate a bumpier surface—soil hardened by the sun. If she wants to avoid a broken ankle, she knows it would be unwise to go any further. “Noah!” she calls out one more time.