‘I have something for you,’ Tully said as they pulled into Rachel’s driveway. Tully had driven to Rachel’s place this morning and her car was parked out the front.
‘What?’
Tully reached into her giant tote – the tote that had carried her stolen goods – and pulled out the bag of cash.
‘You’ve been carrying that around all day?!’
Tully shrugged. ‘Who knows? We might have needed to bribe our way out of something.’ She grinned.
Rachel gaped at her. ‘We were with the police five minutes ago! How would you have explained it if they’d found it?’
‘You would have come up with something,’ Tully said, unperturbed. ‘Anyway, this is your half.’
‘You keep it,’ Rachel said. ‘You need it more than I do.’
‘No,’ Tully said, thrusting it into Rachel’s hands. ‘This half is yours. Mum would’ve wanted it that way.’
‘Fine. Well, thank you, I guess.’
They both went quiet.
‘Anyway,’ Tully said. ‘You never told me about your date with Darcy.’
‘Didn’t I? Actually, it went pretty well.’
‘It did?’
Rachel laughed. ‘Yes.’
Tully looked delighted, but also a little confused. ‘So . . . you simply waited until you’d found the most exquisite man alive before starting to date? Is that it?’
It was a fair question. Rachel had never elaborated on why she didn’t date – not to anyone. And her family – Mum, Dad and even Tully, mostly – had respected that. But maybe, with this new closeness between them, it was time to open up a little more to Tully.
‘Why don’t you come inside and I’ll tell you the whole story?’ Rachel said.
Tully’s eyes widened. ‘About Darcy, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel said. ‘Darcy . . . and all the things that came before him.’
Tully nearly fell over in her eagerness to get out of the car.
36
HEATHER
It had been a month since the ill-fated dinner party at Mary and Michael’s. Mostly Heather blocked that night out, pretended it never happened. She and Stephen carried on as usual, doing pleasant things like going out for lunch or visiting galleries or planning the wedding. She had to admit, the lifestyle of being coupled and childless was hard to beat. They were slaves to nothing and no one. Stephen had booked a beach house for the summer, big enough for Rachel and Tully and her family to come down and stay for as long as they wanted.
‘The best bit,’ Stephen had said, ‘is that when the noise becomes too much, we can head down to the beach for a walk or go to the pub for an early dinner, and leave the parents and kids to it.’
Heather couldn’t wait. It would be just like the Christmas she had with Lily’s family when she was younger. Except this time she wouldn’t be the hanger-on, a guest. She would be in the master bedroom. It was her family.
Now she sat on the bathroom floor, but this time, she didn’t have a drink. It was mid-afternoon and Stephen was at the hospital. It was the first chance she’d had to be alone in days. It had been a momentous week. Stephen’s divorce to Pam had been granted. Stephen had been appropriately reflective about it, and even spent the afternoon in the nursing home with Pam the day it came through. He really was hard to fault. That was what made her other thoughts about him so . . . confusing.
There had been an incident the night before. One of the charities that Stephen was on the board of had a cocktail party in the city. Stephen had gone straight to the function after work at the hospital, so Heather had met him there.
On arrival, a man at the door held out a tray of colourful cocktails. Heather had glanced around for Stephen before accepting one, which made her hate herself a little bit. After all, she didn’t need his permission. Drinking a cocktail didn’t mean she had a drinking problem. The only person who had a problem with her drinking was Stephen.
And so, with the cocktail in hand, she made her way across the room. She found Stephen holding court among an eager audience, telling a story about a group of doctors who’d started a flash mob when he was on his way into surgery that morning. Heather caught his eye as she approached and he put his arm out to her.
‘I don’t know if everyone has met Heather, the lady in my life,’ he said proudly.
Heather smiled and waved at the familiar and unfamiliar faces.
Stephen looked happy but his gaze had lingered for a second or two on her glass. For the next two hours, she sipped the same drink, ready to respond to any of his assertions that she was drunk. She hadn’t had anything else to drink. And still the drive home had been tense.