Maria pulls her head back, her expression vexed with confusion. “Alison wasn’t driving,” she says. “I was.”
“But I thought…” starts Rachel. “I thought Chrissy said she’d found your accident hard to deal with because she blamed herself.”
Tears spring to Maria’s eyes. “Only because she called that night to ask me to pick her up from a party. I’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, so I was a bit disoriented when the phone rang. She could tell and told me she’d get a cab, so that I could go back to sleep. But I wasn’t having any of it.” She looks at Rachel and smiles. “The thing is, your children grow up so quickly that it’s just nice to be needed, even when they’re adults. And it wasn’t that late, so I didn’t think twice. But it was pouring rain outside and as we were coming back, a car came out of nowhere on the other side of the road and smashed straight into us.”
“So, it wasn’t Ali’s fault?” says Rachel, almost to herself.
“Of course not,” says Maria. “And it pains me that she still thinks it is. She couldn’t have done anything more for me if she’d tried. She stayed by my side, twenty-four-seven, for two years after my accident.”
Rachel feels her body swaying; it’s as if she’s outside, looking in. She has so many questions, but she’s afraid the answers are not going to be ones she wants to hear.
She pictures Ali’s résumé, with the two-year period she’d so readily allocated to “Serving at Her Majesty’s Pleasure,” being replaced by “Caring for Her Sick Mum.” It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, and it most certainly doesn’t fit in with the warped caricature of Ali that Rachel’s created in her head.
“So, she gave up work?” asks Rachel, her voice wavering.
Maria nods. “She was doing so well—her career was going like a train—but she packed it all in for me. That’s why I’m pleased she’s doing so well now—least of all, it makes me feel less guilty for holding her up. But she wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Rachel smiles as a swirling pool of nausea works its way up from her stomach.
“Just look at all these people,” says Maria, waving her arm around. “They’ve known Alison since she was a little girl—they’ve been with her through thick and thin and I bet you everything I have that they would all tell you that she is one of the most loyal people they know.”
Rachel would bet even more that Paige, who looks like she’s sucking a lemon while staring intently at Chrissy’s phone, isn’t one of them.
“She might not always go about it the right way,” Maria goes on. “But it’s always well-intended and with your best interests at heart.”
Rachel almost laughs out loud at Maria’s skewed perception of the woman who’s doing her utmost to destroy her life. And as she makes her excuses to leave the conversation, she wonders if the protective matriarch in front of her might be just as much of a fantasist as her daughter. Perhaps that’s where Ali gets it from?
23
“Are we having a good time?” asks the DJ over the speaker, just as Rachel reaches Jack and Noah at the bar.
No! screams a voice in her head as she orders a gin and tonic.
“Yes!” yell the revellers on the dance floor, throwing their hands in the air to prove the point.
“Okay,” says the DJ. “Al-eee, where are you?”
He turns the music down, until just the faintest beat can be heard among the low hum of muted conversation.
“Ali?” Will calls out across the dance floor. He stands on tiptoes to see over the heads of the revellers who are still trying to move to the music, even though it can barely be heard. He shrugs his shoulders at the DJ.
Heads turn expectantly as the bathroom door opens, only for a palpable sense of disappointment to descend when Ali’s grandmother comes out.
“I think I saw her go outside,” offers Chrissy.
“Where’s Paige?” asks Rachel quietly, noticing that she’s no longer with Chrissy.
Noah shrugs his shoulders and Jack pulls an impassive expression, both seemingly oblivious to the relevance of Ali and Paige both being missing at the same time.
“Where the hell is Paige?” Rachel hisses.
As if they cotton on at precisely the same moment, they both turn to look at her with their mouths open.
“Shit!” says Jack, slamming his glass down on the bar. He goes to move toward the door to the terrace, but Rachel takes hold of his arm.