‘What do you call a stereo made of cake?’ he asked.
Rachel rolled her eyes. ‘Just take the –’
‘A gateaux blaster!’
He laughed heartily at his own joke, which was oddly endearing. Tully supposed you could do things like that if you looked like Darcy. Tully snuck a look at Rachel, and saw she was fighting a smile.
Tully started to feel like she was intruding.
‘Right then,’ Rachel said. ‘Better get those buns moving.’
Darcy grinned delightedly. ‘Good one!’
As Rachel closed the door, the tiny smile crept back onto her face.
Tully stared at her.
‘What?’ Rachel said.
‘Better get those buns moving?’
Rachel scoffed, pushing past her and walking into the kitchen. ‘It was a silly joke.’
Tully followed her. ‘You were flirting with him!’
‘I wasn’t! I was just . . . making conversation. Sorry about that, Heather.’
‘No problem,’ Heather said.
‘That’s not how I make conversation with delivery people,’ Tully muttered.
Rachel opened the fridge and retrieved the open wine bottle. She filled her glass nice and high. ‘Heather, help me out, would you? Was I making conversation or was I flirting?’
Tully and Rachel looked at her. Heather looked like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights.
‘I’d say,’ Heather ventured bravely, ‘that you were making conversation. Slightly flirtatious conversation.’
Tully looked at Rachel triumphantly. Maybe Heather wasn’t so bad after all.
12
RACHEL
Rachel stood with her back to Heather and Tully and her head in the pantry, pretending to survey the spices. There were two French madeleines in there that she’d made yesterday, and she picked up one and shoved it in her mouth. She’d worn her black wraparound dress, so she could loosen it, if need be. The way things were going with this lunch, she suspected she’d need to.
‘He was definitely flirting,’ Tully was saying, from where she sat in the dining area. She was utterly delighted, stretched out and looking more relaxed than Rachel had seen her in months. Probably because she was already on her second glass of chardonnay. Heather was on her third. Meanwhile, Rachel hadn’t even managed to have a sip of her first. Her mouth was full so she turned around, rolled her eyes, and turned back again.
‘Where on earth did you find him?’
Rachel swallowed. ‘Long-term unemployed list. It was a government program.’
‘Wow,’ Tully said, mystified. ‘Who wouldn’t want to employ him?’
‘Maybe he’s unreliable,’ Rachel said. ‘Or forgetful. Or lazy. He was late the first time he showed up for a delivery.’
‘Who cares?’ Tully cried. ‘Do I need to remind you what he looks like? Sometimes I wonder if you actually have red blood running through your veins, Rachel, I really do.’
Rachel picked up the other madeleine and stuffed it in her mouth, saving herself from having to answer. The truth was, Darcy’s visit had rattled her a little. It was hard to put her finger on what it was about him. Probably it was the dumb jokes or the fact he complimented her food. She enjoyed dumb jokes and people complimenting her food. But she was wary of him too. He’d been unemployed for over a year before working for her, which was a long time for an able-bodied, charismatic young man like Darcy. There had to be a story there.
‘Rachel doesn’t date men,’ Tully explained to Heather, as if they were suddenly best friends. ‘Or women. When we were younger, she did. She was the rebel child, always wanting to go out at night, always hanging out with boys in places she shouldn’t. Every boy at school was in love with Rachel. It was her hair. She had this long, shiny hair . . . A boyfriend of mine once told me he had a dream about Rachel’s hair and I had to break up with him. Do you remember that, Rach?’
‘Aaron Henderson,’ Rachel said without looking up. ‘He was a giant tosser.’
‘Colossal tosser,’ Tully agreed, before turning back to Heather. ‘Anyway, one day when she was sixteen or seventeen, she shaved it all off. I’ll never forget coming home from school, and there was Rachel, sitting up at the kitchen counter, bald.’
‘I wasn’t bald,’ Rachel corrected. ‘It was a pixie cut.’
‘Mum made her grow it back, but she never wears her hair out anymore. You really should, Rach. You have the best hair. It’s your crowning glory.’