Chapter 19 #2
How could he have not realized she would come back?
He’d known all along that Janice couldn’t cope on her own, and Meghan wasn’t much use.
She’d only been fifteen then. He had to have known Rachel would come back, had probably been counting on it.
And that realization was one she couldn’t bear to accept, not even ten years later.
“I don’t know,” she said again, and started loading plates into the dishwasher.
Lily went upstairs to study, and an hour later Rachel heard the front door open again, very quietly, like someone was trying to sneak in.
“Not so fast.” She stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, while Meghan froze mid-tiptoe upstairs.
“What? I’m shattered.”
“I bet you are. Partying all night is exhausting, I’m sure.”
Meghan made a face. “It’s not even eleven yet.”
“Where were you, Meghan?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, actually, it does,” Rachel snapped. “We all need to pull together now that Mum’s in hospital, and instead you’re doing a runner.”
Meghan sighed impatiently. “I just went out with a friend, Rachel. Chill, okay?”
“Chill? Chill?” Rachel’s voice rose, and she took a steadying breath. “I’m not going to chill, Meghan. I don’t have time to chill. I’m working all hours and—”
“Oh, please spare me the I-work-so-hard spiel yet again. We all know you do, Rachel. Trust me.” The vitriol in Meghan’s voice surprised her. It went beyond the usual snippy sarcasm into something that felt almost like hatred.
Meghan went back downstairs and into the kitchen, and after a second Rachel followed her. “Fine,” she said as Meghan reached for a glass and filled it with water from the tap. “I won’t give you that spiel.”
“Thank God for small mercies.”
“But in return how about you tell me what’s going on? Where have you been going at night? And who with?”
Meghan shrugged, her back to Rachel. “Just to the pub. With a friend.”
“What friend?”
“A bloke I met.”
“Someone from the village?”
A pause. “No.”
“Meghan.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Why are you being so cagey about this?”
“Maybe because I don’t want people interfering in my life?”
“When have I ever interfered in your life?” Rachel demanded. “I’ve never even asked you who Nathan’s father is.”
“You just did.”
“That was not asking.” Rachel blew out a breath. “Look, I’m not trying to pry, but your behavior affects us as a family. I need to be able to count on you.”
Meghan let out a sharp laugh as she turned around to face Rachel. “Count on me? Are you serious? When have you ever done that?”
“What are you talking—” Before Rachel could finish Meghan was pushing past her and then clumping up the stairs in her high-heeled boots. So much for tiptoeing.
Rachel listened to the door close upstairs—just short of a slam—and then Nathan’s predictable sleepy cry, quickly silenced by Meghan.
Rachel let out a long breath, sagging against the counter.
There was so much she didn’t understand or even know about her sister, and she felt her ignorance keenly now.
Meghan was right; Rachel had never felt she could count on her.
She’d never tried, and Meghan had most certainly never offered to step up and go the extra distance for the sake of the family.
She worked her nights at the pub, did the minimum work at home Rachel asked of her, and spent the rest of her time watching telly or going out.
What on earth was going to happen when their mother returned from the hospital?
Mr. Greaves had made it clear that Janice would need much more care than she had before.
She could never be left alone in the house, and she’d have to go to rehab several times a week, driven by either her or Meghan, which meant a reshuffling of her cleaning jobs.
And what about Meghan? Her sister might be lazy and unreliable, but at least she was there. If Meghan took off, who could stay home with Janice?
The sound of her mobile ringing brought Rachel out of her grim reflections. She didn’t recognize the number, but she answered it anyway. Someone who called at eleven o’clock at night was either drunk or had an emergency.
“Hello?”
“Rachel?” The cultured male voice didn’t register with her for a moment, and then he clarified with a touch of impatience, “It’s Andrew. Andrew West.”
“Is Claire all right?”
“And you think I baby her?” he returned with a touch of amusement.
“I can’t imagine why else you’d be calling me,” Rachel answered. “Especially so late at night.”
“Is it that late?” Andrew sounded surprised.
“It’s after eleven.”
“Oh, sorry. I was working from home and I didn’t realize the time. Were you in bed?”
The question, ridiculously, made Rachel’s cheeks warm. “No. I was just in the kitchen reading Meghan the riot act, as usual.”
“As usual?” Andrew repeated, and Rachel surprised herself by explaining.
“We always fight. I don’t think she does enough to help out, and she thinks I’m being sanctimonious.” She gave a little laugh. “You probably agree with her.”
“I think you have a great many demands on you,” Andrew answered. “Besides, I’m hardly one to talk about being sanctimonious.”
“Wait, did you just make a joke?” Rachel dared to tease.
“No, actually, I was simply stating a fact. I’m aware of how I come across, especially with Claire.”
She walked into the sitting room and sank onto the sofa, distantly noticing the empty crisp packets and soda cans on the coffee table. “So if you’re aware, do you think you’ll back off for a bit? With Claire?”
“I’ll try. Claire asked me to, so I suppose I should respect her wishes.”
“Good.”
“Have you seen her lately? Is she all right?”
“This is you backing off, is it?” Rachel returned dryly. “And no, I haven’t seen her since last Sunday. I’ve been a little busy.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. How’s your mother?”
“Still in hospital. We’re not sure yet what the long-term prognosis is going to be.”
“That must be difficult.”
“It is, but to be honest, it’s a bit of a relief not to have her at home.” Rachel gave a guilty laugh. “I suppose that makes me sound awful.”
“No, just human. It can be exhausting, always looking after someone.”
Like he looked after Claire? Rachel didn’t ask.
She hadn’t spared too much thought for Claire, although she had a niggling sense of guilt that she hadn’t been friendly enough when Claire had brought over a meal.
She was trying to help, maybe even to make amends, and Rachel knew she wasn’t meeting her halfway.
But she couldn’t add yet another person to her life who needed her to care for them.
“So what do you think?”
“Sorry, what?” Andrew had been talking and Rachel hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“I was asking if you’d like to come to Manchester,” Andrew told her, his tone turning overtly patient.
“Come to Manchester? What on earth for?”
“You really didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” Andrew said, and Rachel couldn’t tell if he sounded amused or exasperated. “I was inviting you to visit, Rachel.”
“Visit . . .” She was still coming up blank.
“Me. There’s a new photography exhibition at the Whitworth Gallery, which just reopened. I thought you might like to see it. With me.”
“Why would you think that?” Rachel blurted.
Andrew gave a dry laugh. “This conversation is a little more ego-bruising than I would have liked.”
“Oh. You mean . . . Do you mean . . . ?” Rachel’s mind spun as she stammered out her reply. “Do you mean visit you, as in a date?”
Silence. “It could be a date, if you wanted it to be.”
Which was a complete non-answer. “What do you want it to be?” Rachel asked. She had no idea what she wanted. She’d never thought of Andrew West that way, had never even considered it, not really.
“I asked you to visit, didn’t I?” Andrew returned. “You can come up and down in a day, or you can sleep on my sofa if you prefer.”
Rachel wasn’t prepared for the fluttery feeling in her stomach at that suggestion. A day out, away from Hartley-by-the-Sea, from housecleaning, from all the demands and stresses of her life. An actual date.
“Rachel? Are you still there?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m just . . . I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I kind of got that.”
She laughed then, a lightness she hadn’t experienced in a long time buoying her spirits. “I haven’t been to Manchester in years.”
“So now may be a good time.”
And then reality set her down with a thud. “Actually, it isn’t. With Mum in hospital . . .”
“That’s partly why I thought of it. She’s taken care of, isn’t she? Surely you can spare a Saturday.”
Rachel thought of Meghan and Nathan and Lily, all of them needing her in their different ways.
But maybe they didn’t need her as much as she thought they did.
Maybe they could manage for just one day.
Maybe their world wouldn’t come unglued if she wasn’t there to hold it all together.
“All right,” she said, feeling heady with the recklessness of it. “But just for the day.”
“All right, then,” Andrew answered, and he sounded pleased, which made a goofy smile spread over Rachel’s face. “I’ll meet you at the station on Saturday.”
They made a few more arrangements before disconnecting the call, and then Rachel sat there in the silence of the sitting room, her phone held in her hand, the smile still on her face.