Three’s a Crowd (42 page)

Rachel sniffed, shrugging.

Catherine considered her thoughtfully. ‘And you're not someone who's easily infatuated either. I never remember you having a crush all the way through high school.'

Rachel was wondering where she was going with this.

‘You really do love him, don't you?'

She nodded. She really did. ‘What am I going to do?'

‘Hang on to him for all you're worth,' she said plainly.

Rachel wiped a hand across her eyes. ‘You think so?'

‘I do. I mean, it's going to be a bumpy ride, and I'm not saying it'll work out. Chances are it probably won't.'

‘Then why should I risk it?'

‘Because it makes life worthwhile,' Catherine declared. ‘You know, Rachel, come to think of it, that's your whole problem. You won't take risks.'

Rachel could smell a lecture coming on.

‘Oh, I know you looked like the big adventurer taking off overseas,' Catherine went on, ‘but I always knew you were just avoiding real life. It was easier than trying to figure out what you were going to do with yourself,' she added. ‘And Sean was
the classic risk-free choice, but that backfired because he nearly bored you to death. All the jobs you've had, including this new one, they're all about playing it safe, doing something you can't possibly fail at.' She shook her head. ‘You know, a lot of people with your background would channel their feelings of, I don't know, is it abandonment? Neglect, perhaps? Anyway, they would either become ambitious and driven, or go to the other extreme and their lives would be complete trainwrecks. But you've gone another way entirely, you consistently fly under the radar. It's very interesting psychodynamics.'

‘Well, I'm glad you find my case so intriguing,' Rachel said dryly. ‘You still haven't convinced me why I should stick with, um . . . Matt, when apparently it's inevitable I'm just going to get hurt.'

‘I didn't say it was inevitable,' she corrected her. ‘The fact is, you're already in too deep, you can't save yourself by jumping ship now. I mean, if you did get out, this minute, it would hurt, am I right?'

Rachel nodded.

‘But there is a chance it'll all work out, so you can't give up, because what if it's your only chance?' She picked up her glass. ‘Let me tell you, you'd regret that for the rest of your life.'

‘Is that how you think about James?' Rachel asked.

‘Oh, my God, why have we suddenly switched over to the history channel?'

‘You started it,' Rachel reminded her. ‘I was just wondering if he was your only chance.'

She shook her head. ‘Don't be crazy, Rachel, I was a child.'

‘Still, have you ever been in love since, like you were with him?'

‘I was a child,' she repeated, slowly and insistently. ‘I'm not denying I had some very intense feelings, but it was teenage hormones, sheer infatuation. What the hell do you know about anything when you're seventeen? You only have to look at Alice; if she told me she was in love now I'd take it with a grain of salt.'

‘Does she ever ask about him?'

‘About who?'

‘About her father.'

‘Not any more. She was curious around twelve or so, for a couple of years, but then she lost interest again.'

Rachel was pretty sure she hadn't. ‘What did you tell her?'

‘You know the story.'

‘I know the real story, but you didn't tell her that.' Rachel had long been sworn to complete and utter secrecy; she was under strict instructions never to breathe a word of it to Alice, and if Alice ever broached the subject with her, to direct her to her mother for answers. ‘I don't think you ever told me the story you gave her.'

‘If you didn't know, you didn't have to lie,' said Catherine.

‘But I did know the truth, so –'

‘Oh Rachel, you know what I mean,' she dismissed. ‘Look, for Alice I kept it simple. I said I was on holidays with my family at a caravan park, that I hooked up with a boy, one night we went down onto the beach, he had alcohol, I didn't handle it, one thing led to another . . . blah, blah, blah. I never saw him again, and I only knew his first name. I made it James, so at least she knows that much about him.'

‘That's a horrible story, Catherine,' Rachel grimaced.

‘Well, I took the opportunity to make it a cautionary tale. I'd have told her it was a virgin birth if I could have gotten away with it.'

Rachel was shaking her head. ‘I don't understand why you wouldn't just tell her the truth. It doesn't put you in a bad light at all, Catherine. It's quite a romantic story, almost Romeo and Juliet–like.'

‘Oh, please,' she frowned. ‘James was no Romeo.'

‘I just think it would be a whole lot better for Alice to have a picture of her mother and father as young lovers forced apart by unsympathetic parents.'

Catherine sighed. ‘Maybe if James had ever attempted to make contact, even just a phone call to see if I was all right . . . And I wouldn't want Alice to get it into her head to try and find him. If he couldn't care less about me back then, and there's never been a single word since, how do you suppose he'd react to her showing up? Especially as he believes I had an abortion.' She shook her head. ‘No, what she doesn't know can't hurt her. That document
my parents signed disavowed her very existence. If I was going to tell Alice the whole truth, I would have to tell her that part as well. And there's nothing romantic about that.'

Fortunately Martin came home at some point, and he made them something more substantial to eat so at least they had food in their stomachs to soak up the alcohol. It developed into quite a bender, but at around eleven Rachel was still lucid enough to know she had to stop, and that she had to leave. Catherine tried to talk her into staying the night, but Rachel insisted she wanted to go home. She preferred to get over her hangovers in the privacy of her own flat, to her own timeframe.

Besides, there was something she needed to do tonight on the way home, she didn't want to put it off. She was fully aware that she was tired and emotional, but she kept seeing Tom's face on the beach today as she walked away. He'd been through enough, she didn't want to cause him any more pain. She wanted to let him know she was in, boots and all, that she would be there for him as well. That she wasn't going anywhere. And she wanted to do it now, tonight, while she was under the influence of alcohol-fuelled bravura, before she chickened out tomorrow and her risk-averse self came back to the fore.

For that reason, she flatly refused Martin's offer of a lift home, but thanked him for calling her a taxi. Rachel gave the driver Tom's address as they pulled off up the street. ‘But I only need to stop there for a minute,' she said slowly and deliberately, trying not to slur her speech. ‘Then we'll go on to Bronte.'

She directed him to pull up just short of Tom's place, on the other side away from Lexie's, and then she stepped out of the taxi and picked her way carefully in the dark towards the front gate. Thankfully there was a light on inside; she didn't know what she would have done if the house had been in darkness. Still, she didn't want to knock at the door and risk alerting the girls. She took out her mobile and managed to find Tom's number and call.

‘Hi Rachel?' he said when he answered.

‘Yes, it's me, Rachel.'

‘Why are you whispering?'

‘Because I'm out the front.'

‘What?'

‘I'm outside your house. I didn't want to knock in case I woke somebody.'

A moment later the door opened and Tom peered out. Rachel tottered unsteadily the rest of the way up the path and straight into his arms.

‘I'm so sorry about today, Rach,' he said, holding her tight.

‘No, no,
I'm
sorry,' she insisted, drawing back to look at him. ‘That's why I came, to tell you I'm sorry, and I know I don't like risks, it's something to do with my psycho . . . something, but even if it's going to be a trainwreck, I want to be on it.'

He smiled indulgently at her. ‘Have you been drinking, just a little, maybe?'

She shook her head. ‘No, I've been drinking quite a lot. But I know what I'm doing. And I know what I'm saying. I love you, Tom, I love you so much,' she said, her voice becoming little more than a squeak.

‘Hey, it's okay,' he said, gathering her close again. ‘I love you too, Rach. Everything's going to work out.'

She leaned her head on his shoulder, gazing up at him. ‘You really think so?'

‘I know so,' he assured her, running his fingers around her hairline. ‘Where have you been tonight anyway?'

‘Catherine's. She actually had some helpful things to say.'

Tom frowned. ‘You talked to her about us?'

‘No, no, I talked about . . . oh, damn, what's his name? The doormat guy.'

‘Matt Harding?'

She looked up at Tom, wide-eyed. ‘You know him?'

He smiled, kissing her forehead. ‘I think I better take you home. How did you even get here?'

‘Oh damn, in a taxi, he's waiting right over there.'

Tom glanced across to where she was pointing. ‘Okay, I'll go and send him off, and then I'll drive you home.'

Rachel pulled herself together. ‘No, Tom, you can't . . . the girls are here. I'll be fine, I just wanted to make sure we were okay.'

‘We're okay,' he said, ‘and it's going to get better, I promise, Rachel.'

She looked up at him. ‘I just get scared it's all going to end badly.'

He held her face in his hands. ‘I know you do, but I'm not going to let that happen, okay? Trust me.'

And then he kissed her for a long time, and Rachel kissed him back, wanting so very badly to believe him.

‘What was that?' she said suddenly, pulling away from him.

‘What?'

‘I thought I heard a noise.'

‘I didn't hear anything,' said Tom. ‘Are you sure you're going to be all right?'

‘I'm sure.'

‘Okay then, let me walk you to the taxi, at least.'

‘Lexie, here you are, I've been waiting for you,' said Scott a little impatiently as she walked into the kitchen at the café.

She glanced at her watch. It was the same time she usually got here. ‘What's the problem?' she asked, putting her things down on the bench.

‘Some guy showed up today with a delivery of paper products, not the regular guy from our regular supplier. He said the order had been placed by a
Mrs
Dingle.'

‘Yeah,' she nodded. ‘I was going to mention –'

‘Going to mention?' He was obviously annoyed. ‘Lexie, you can't just go changing things willy-nilly.'

‘I'm not,' she chided. ‘We're talking about paper cups and napkins, cleaning supplies, that kind of thing. I would never touch the food side of things, Scott. Well, not without discussing it first.'

The fact was, Lexie had a lot of ideas about the food, she was brimming over with ideas ever since Scott had finally relinquished
the books to her. She had taken to her new role with relish. Once she had a handle on the way things worked, she started to compare suppliers and find more competitive deals. She had already cut overheads by eight per cent, and she'd barely got started. Her next plan was to take them carbon neutral and largely organic. Not only was it right for the planet, Lexie was all too aware that it was a good marketing strategy in this area. People around here lapped up that kind of thing.

‘I don't know, Lex,' Scott had remarked when she'd mentioned it to him. ‘I think I've taken organic as far as I can and still be cost-effective.'

Lexie begged to differ. He used organic olive oil and free-range eggs as staples, and he had a fresh produce guy who supplied some seasonal organic fruit and vegies, but Lexie knew they could do better. And she loved the challenge. The fact was, there were so many programs and government grants to assist businesses in going greener, but Scott had never had the time to look into any of them, he wasn't even aware of what was on offer.

But Lexie had the time and the motivation. Her mother was minding Mia for a couple of hours, two mornings a week, which Lexie mostly spent at the café. Then every afternoon while Mia was down for her nap, she had ample time to keep the books up to date, make calls, research. She was still able to walk Riley to school and back, and take him to his swimming lessons, and organise play dates, all as normal. And now Scott was finishing work at a reasonable hour, and the family had more relaxed time together. Lexie didn't know why they hadn't thought of this sooner.

‘I just think you should talk to me about some of this stuff first,' Scott was saying.

‘If I have to come to you with every little thing,' said Lexie, ‘it's going to negate the reason I'm here in the first place, which is to take some of the load off you.'

‘Yeah, but . . .'

She sidled over and leaned against him. ‘Yeah but what?'

‘I'd been using the other guys since I started,' he muttered. ‘I happen to think loyalty means something.'

‘So do I,' said Lexie, ‘and I think it should be rewarded. I haven't dropped any supplier before going to them and asking them what
they can do for us. Most of them have been prepared to drop the account ultimately, before dropping their prices.'

Scott didn't seem convinced. ‘Well, what if the new guys aren't up to scratch? What if they let us down, late deliveries, that kind of thing?'

‘I'll be monitoring all that, of course, Scott,' she assured him. ‘I'm not going to let anything disrupt the smooth running of the café. That's why I'm here.'

He stood there sulking. Sometimes she saw where Riley and Mia got their stubbornness from. But they were children. She nudged him. ‘Come on, stop having a pout,' she cajoled. ‘Scott, I want you to be able to concentrate on the kitchen, that's your strength. You're a fantastic, creative chef, and you've been bogged down in all these details. Now you don't have to be.'