‘Pretty sure that’s illegal.’
‘Again,’ Tully said, exasperated, ‘who cares?’ She grabbed the phone out of Rachel’s hand, thumbed, Tomorrow night works, and handed it back. ‘There. Now let’s move on to the next stage of the day, which is drinking to calm your nerves.’ Tully refilled their glasses all the way to the top. ‘Look at that,’ she said. ‘We’ve gone through another bottle.’
‘There’s plenty more inside,’ Rachel said, and Tully and Heather cheered.
Maybe Stephen’s daughters were her kind of people after all?
Heather was drunk. The most marvellous part about it was that Rachel and Tully were too. The comfort of being around drunk people when you were also drunk was not to be underestimated. Heather was sinking into the pleasure of it, really enjoying it, when the air was pierced by a very annoying noise. ‘What is that?’ Heather said.
The three women looked around, at first in that dopey, half-interested way, but when it continued, with more desperation.
‘It’s my phone,’ Tully said when she realised. ‘Where is the damn thing?’
Heather was already out of her seat. She followed the ringtone into a Gucci handbag. She dug past some salad servers, a single patent-leather shoe and an expensive-looking candle, still in its box, before clasping her hand around the phone. It was funny; she’d imagined Tully’s bag would be just so, but it was an unholy mess.
‘Here it is!’ she cried, and Tully claimed the phone and accepted the FaceTime.
‘Hi, babe,’ she said as a face appeared on the screen.
‘Uh-oh. Babe? Does this mean you’re drunk?’
Heather glanced at the screen and recognised Tully’s husband Sonny from a photo she’d seen at Stephen’s house. He looked faintly amused.
‘That’s right, babe,’ Tully said, laughing. It was hard to match up this Tully with the uptight Tully from the other day. Even from a few hours ago. Her whole body was loose and relaxed.
‘I take it this means I am your Uber driver this evening?’
Evening? Heather looked around. Sure enough, the sky was starting to darken. It felt like only a few minutes ago that Rachel had cleared the dishes away and produced the most delicious sponge cake Heather had ever tasted. Now, even the sponge remains had been cleared away and the picked-over remains of a magnificent cheese platter lay on the table before them.
‘Only if you give me a five-star rating,’ Tully said.
‘Promise not to vomit in my car and we have a deal.’
Due to her proximity to Tully, Heather had no choice but to eavesdrop. But she felt like she was witnessing something very personal. Tully was drunk. Sonny thought it was funny. He was offering to give her a ride home. No one was yelling or getting into fight. It was like something out of a TV show.
‘Can I get you anything else, Heather?’ Rachel asked, as Tully continued chatting to Sonny. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
‘There’s nothing else I could possibly want,’ Heather replied. ‘Honestly, I’ve never known a host to be as considerate as you are.’
Rachel waved the compliment away but she looked pleased. ‘I love to make people feel comfortable and welcome. And to feed them, obviously. It’s a bit of an obsession of mine.’
Heather picked up her wineglass and took a long sip before returning it to the table. ‘I went to high school with a girl who had an obsession with feeding people. She used to bring homemade cakes and slices to school nearly every day.’
Rachel was looking at her intently.
‘After high school, I heard through a friend that the girl had been sexually assaulted by her uncle during high school. Apparently baking was her escape – almost like therapy. If she was stressed or angry or upset, the only thing that could calm her down was cooking. And it didn’t hurt that the weight she gained made her a little less attractive to her uncle.’
Rachel was still looking at her, but her face had become a little grey. It was all the confirmation Heather needed that her suspicions about Rachel were true. It made her wonder about the Aston family, ostensibly so close, and yet completely blind to something Heather had been able to extract in a couple of minutes, using a made-up example about a girl from school.
‘All right, Uber driver,’ Tully was saying. ‘You can pick me up. But don’t be late or your rating is ruined!’ She laughed and hung up the phone. ‘My ride’s on its way.’
‘What about you?’ Rachel asked Heather. ‘Should I call Dad? You won’t be able to drive home now, will you?’