Jack goes to her and takes hold of her shoulders. “I think she’s already done her worst, as far as we’re concerned.”
Rachel wishes she felt as confident.
“Why haven’t you told Will any of this?” she asks. “Why wouldn’t you warn him who he was marrying before it was too late?”
“I tried!” he exclaims. “But he just wouldn’t listen. She’s done the same to him as she’s tried to do to me. But Will’s weaker than I am and he’s let her win. He’s desperate to have kids, and doesn’t want to leave it too late.”
“She doesn’t want children yet,” says Rachel, as if to herself.
“What?” says Jack. “But the other night…”
“I know what she said to us the other night, in front of Will, but I heard her telling her cousin that she’s not ready.”
“The fucking bitch,” seethes Jack. “How can she do that to him?”
Rachel thinks about it for a moment.
“See, this is what I’m talking about,” says Jack, jumping in on her thoughts. “This is what we’re dealing with.”
“You had your chance to put a stop to this,” says Rachel, feeling the ice-cold water lapping at her feet. “If you’d been honest—with me, with Will—you could have stopped him marrying her.”
“It’s not too late,” says Jack.
“Of course it’s too late!” cries Rachel, ashamed of the part she’s played in this. How had she let her stupid insecurities come between her and her husband? If she’d confronted Jack when she should have, all this would have come out sooner, and together they would have had a chance to let Will know the mistake he was about to make.
Jack takes her hand. “We should get back before we’re missed,” he says, attempting to laugh. “And before this place fills with water.”
21
“What’s going on?” asks Paige when Rachel approaches her and Noah.
“You’re not going to believe it,” says Rachel, giddy with relief. She finishes the gin she’d left on the table and picks up her handbag from the back of a chair. “Let me just go and sort myself out and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
She takes herself off to the ladies’ room where she finds Chrissy standing outside a closed cubicle door.
“Are you…？” starts Rachel, pointing to the open cubicle beside her.
“Oh, no,” says Chrissy. “Go ahead.”
Rachel doesn’t really need to go, she just wants access to the mirror to make sure she doesn’t have mascara running down her cheeks, but with Chrissy in the way, there’s not enough room, so she locks herself into the cubicle and checks her phone while she waits.
“Come on, Ali,” she hears Chrissy plead. “Whatever it is, you can’t let it upset you on your wedding day.”
“I’ll be fine,” sniffs Ali. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” says Chrissy. “I’m right here.”
“Actually, could you leave me?” says Ali. “I just need to be on my own.”
“Well…” starts Chrissy, clearly not sure if it’s wise to leave Ali alone.
“Honestly,” says Ali, sensing her hesitation. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Okay,” says Chrissy reluctantly. “I’ll just be outside by the bar.”
Rachel hears the door open and close and a few more sniffs coming from next door. She doesn’t know whether to bolt out of there to avoid Ali—after all, she has nothing left to say to her—or let her go first.
The door unlocks and a tip-tap of shoes crosses the tiled floor. Water runs and the hand dryer blasts hot air into the tiny space. When it turns off, Rachel waits for the door to open and close, but there’s only silence. No movement. No tip-tap. Nothing—just an ominous stillness.
It’s beginning to feel awkward, like a standoff, with only a flimsy sheet of Formica to witness who will break cover first.
Rachel doesn’t want a confrontation, but she’s not going to hide in a toilet all night. She smooths down the fabric of her dress and takes a deep breath as she prises the lock and opens the door. If Ali is surprised it’s her, she doesn’t show it. In fact, she’s standing purposefully against the basin, as if waiting for her.
“Excuse me,” says Rachel, tightly.
Ali moves aside and exhales. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she says.