“Bitch,” snaps Paige, when their two paths collide.
An icy hand reaches into Rachel’s chest and wraps itself around her heart, squeezing until she can no longer feel it pumping. She goes to defend herself, but her mouth has dried up and she doesn’t know where she’d even begin.
“You need to get out of my way,” Paige says to Noah, who is blocking her in a misguided attempt at placating her.
Rachel looks at him wide-eyed as they both silently acknowledge the deluge they’re trying to hold back.
“I mean it…” says Paige, locking eyes with him.
“Paige…” starts Rachel.
Paige spins around to face her, with flared nostrils. “What?” she yells.
“I’m sorry,” starts Rachel, terrified by this version of her best friend, one she hasn’t seen before. But then she doesn’t know what else she should have expected. “I can’t begin to understand how you must be feeling…”
“You have no fucking idea,” says Paige.
Rachel wants to shrink into herself, away from the toxic atmosphere of everyone having held a secret in for so long that it now feels like they’re all about to spontaneously combust.
“I just…” says Rachel, not knowing where to even start. “I just want you to know…”
Paige shakes her head, as if in an effort to clear the poisonous thoughts that are trapped there. “I’m sorry,” she says, sighing deeply. “I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“Wh … what?” asks Rachel, numbly, as her knees threaten to buckle with relief. She holds onto the door to the restaurant for support, not wanting to count her chickens before they’ve hatched. “What happened?”
Paige takes a deep breath in and out. “She really is quite something,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so divisive in all my life.”
“What did she say?” Rachel asks, before tensing her shoulders up in the hope that they might reach her ears and render her deaf to the answer.
“I won’t let her get away with the lies she’s peddling,” she says, shaking her head. “She’s going to pay.”
“I can understand you being angry,” says Rachel. “But this isn’t the way to deal with it.”
“You honestly expect me to let that liar get away with it?” asks Paige, exasperated.
“No,” says Rachel, daring to believe that Ali’s not told her about Noah and Josh. “No, of course not, but there is a time and a place. And here and now isn’t it.”
Paige suddenly grabs hold of Rachel’s arms and turns her to face her. “You know that Jack and I aren’t…” It’s as if she can’t bring herself to say it. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” says Rachel, her voice high-pitched.
“Are you okay?” asks Jack, coming up to them. It’s only when Rachel turns to look at him that she realizes he’s talking to Paige.
Rachel stands there, between her husband and her best friend, yet feels like she’s a million miles from anyone. Jack’s fraught with an unnerving panic. Paige is as incensed as Rachel’s ever seen her. Both of them are seemingly oblivious to the fact that even while she’s trying to comfort them, it’s her world that’s falling apart at the seams.
Guests are beginning to bristle, as if they know something’s amiss, but are not quite sure what. It would help enormously if the DJ put a record on to distract everyone’s attention from what may or may not be going on outside. But in the absence of music, they’re craning their necks to get a better view.
There’s no escaping the fact that Will is clearly comforting Ali, as he wipes her tears and looks at her earnestly. Eventually, after taking a few deep breaths, she comes back into the restaurant to a round of applause.
“Ah,” says the DJ. “Here she is.”
Will accompanies her to the middle of the dance floor, keeping her close to him. Rachel knows him well enough to see that he’s concerned about what’s just gone on, but Ali’s attempting to make light of it by forcing a smile.
“So, here we have it,” says the DJ, in broken English, blissfully unaware of the edginess that’s crept into the proceedings. “A surprise for you, Ali.”
The big TV behind him comes to life and David Friedman is on the screen, sitting in a monochrome-designed room, wearing his trademark jeans and white T-shirt.