Three’s a Crowd (41 page)

‘What are you talking about?' Rachel chided. ‘You're gorgeous, I'm thinking you must be carrying around a big stick to beat them off all day.'

She pulled a face. ‘There's no way I'm going to have a boyfriend until I'm out of here.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I wouldn't bring a guy home here, can you imagine the way Mum would go on?' Alice shuddered. ‘She thinks she's a MILF, and she so isn't, she's too highbrow. MILFs dress like their teenage daughters, and they're totally embarrassing anyway.'

‘I thought it was cool if your mum was considered a MILF?'

‘No way,' Alice shook her head. ‘Gross fifteen-year-old boys like MILFs, and trampy Paris Hilton–type girls, because they're like role models of what they want to be when they grow up. Everyone else thinks they're lame as.'

Alice had a good head on her shoulders, Catherine should appreciate that.

‘Well, at least you have a lot of time to study while you're in lock-up,' said Rachel. ‘How's it going?'

She shrugged. ‘I just can't wait for it to be over.'

‘Do you have any idea what you want to do?'

‘Kinda. I'd like to do Communications, but Mum says it's the “BA of the new century”. She thinks it's like, totally worthless and I'll just end up working at McDonald's.'

Rachel considered her. ‘What would you want to do with a Communications degree?'

‘I dunno . . .' Alice screwed up her face.

‘Come on, your dream job. If someone said you could do whatever you wanted to do, no restrictions, what would it be?'

She squirmed on her stool. ‘Seriously, I don't know.'

But Rachel noticed that her cheeks were flushed and she couldn't look her in the eye. ‘Yes you do,' she urged. ‘Come on, you can tell me.'

Alice looked at her. ‘You won't say anything to Mum?'

This was delicate. ‘As long as it's not prostitution or drug-running.'

‘Rachel!' she squealed, laughing.

‘Come on, out with it.'

She took a deep breath. ‘Okay, but you're not allowed to laugh.'

‘I wouldn't laugh at you, Alice,' Rachel said seriously.

She bit her lip. ‘Well, I like to write.'

‘Really?'

‘See, you think I'm totally lame.'

‘No I don't,' Rachel insisted. ‘Why would you think that?'

‘It's a total wank to say you want to be a writer.'

‘Not if you can write. Can you?'

‘I dunno,' she shrugged.

‘Do you do much writing?'

‘Some.'

‘Show me.'

‘No way, Rachel!' she exclaimed.

‘Why not?'

‘It'd be
so
embarrassing.'

‘But if you want to be a writer, someone's going to have to read your work eventually. So start with me. I can't write to save my life, but I read heaps, so I wouldn't criticise you because I could do better, but I can tell you if it's any good as a reader.'

Alice gave her a doubtful look. ‘You wouldn't tell me, you'd just say it was good.'

‘No I wouldn't.'

‘You so totally would. You're too nice, Rachel.'

She laughed. ‘I'm
so
not. I'm like, a total bitch.'

Alice laughed then. ‘You so totally are not.'

‘The thing is, I would be honest,' Rachel said seriously. ‘I promise.'

Alice was looking at her curiously. She nearly had her.

‘And if I don't think it's any good, then we never speak of this again. We never had this conversation.'

‘Okay,' she agreed. ‘But you can't tell anyone, no matter what you think. And if you don't like it, just don't say anything. And if you go all gushy, then I'm going to know you're making it up.'

‘Deal.'

Rachel followed Alice up to her room and sat on the bed while she scrolled through files on her laptop, umming and aahing and pulling faces, nearly showing her something about a dozen times, then changing her mind at the last second. Rachel sat patiently; she knew if she pushed her there was every chance she would change her mind.

Finally Alice seemed decided. ‘Okay. Here it is, but I so totally can't watch you while you read it. I'll be in the bathroom.'

She thrust the laptop at Rachel and jumped off the bed, darting off to the bathroom and closing the door.

Rachel settled herself amongst the cushions and began to read. It was heavy on the typical teenage angst, but what else was she going to write about? It's not as though she'd travelled the world or had a baby or a great love. Though there was a fragment about a faceless father which Rachel found quite poignant.

But it was evident that she could write. She was only young yet, she needed to develop confidence in her voice, and she needed a good editor. But it was honest. And it was funny. It was really funny, and clever. That was what struck Rachel most of all.

She got up off the bed and went over to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door.

‘Yes?' came the tentative response.

Rachel pushed the door open. Alice was sitting in the corner, on the tiled floor, hugging her knees to her. Rachel needed to put her out of her misery.

‘Hey sweetie,' she said. ‘I hate to be the one to break it to you . . . But guess what, you can write.'

‘You're just saying that,' she said in a small voice.

‘No, I'm not,' Rachel said plainly. ‘I promised, didn't I?'

Alice stared at her.

‘Didn't I?'

She gave her a faint nod.

‘So do you trust me?'

She nodded again.

‘You know what I liked most about it?' said Rachel, not waiting for a response. ‘It's really funny, it's poignant and sweet, but it's really funny. You've got your own voice, Alice, and as far as I understand, that's the most important thing for a writer to have.'

Alice allowed the tiniest trace of a smile to creep onto her face.

‘I'm trying to remember something we talked about that night Sophie and the Macklins were here,' Rachel went on, leaning against the vanity cabinet. ‘There's a unit in the HSC where you can do a creative piece, is that right?'

‘Yeah,' she nodded.

‘You didn't think you were good enough?'

She shrugged. ‘My teacher wanted me to do it.'

‘Then why didn't you?'

Alice groaned. ‘Because then Mum would have had to read it.'

‘I think if she read anything like this she'd be very impressed.'

‘No she wouldn't. She'd want to analyse it, and edit it, and she'd be asking me what I meant by this or that. I can write what I really want to write if I don't have to think about showing it to her.'

Alice definitely had a point, Catherine would tend to be hypercritical, and overanalyse, which Rachel imagined could be crippling for a young writer. She wished Catherine could see that she'd get a lot further with Alice if she just backed off a little.

‘Can I ask you something, Rachel?'

‘Sure.'

‘Do you think Mum might be going through menopause?'

‘What?' said Rachel. ‘God, I hope not, we're too young for that.'

‘That's what I thought,' she sighed.

‘Why do you ask?'

‘Just the way she's been acting. I mean, she's always been a control freak, but lately she's gotten heaps worse. I can't do anything right any more. She's just so critical. Some of the girls at school are going through the same thing, but their mums are older. I just wondered if because she had me so young, and she didn't have any more babies, she might go through it earlier?'

‘I don't think that's how it works, chook.' Rachel thought about it. ‘You're right about the same age as she was when she had you, you know. Maybe it's stirring up old feelings for her.'

‘About how I ruined her life?'

‘No, you were the only good thing to come out of the whole sorry business. Don't you ever forget it.'

Just then they heard the front door.

Alice's eyes widened. ‘That's Mum,' she gasped. ‘You can't say anything about the writing, you promised.'

‘Don't worry, I'm not going to,' she assured her. ‘But I hope one day you will. You might be surprised by the reaction.'

‘Alice, are you up there?' Catherine called a moment later as they both appeared at the top of the stairs. She frowned. ‘Rachel, what are you doing here?'

‘I had the afternoon off, so I thought I'd drop in,' she said, starting down the stairs.

‘I'm going back to my homework now,' said Alice, turning away.

‘Drink?' Catherine asked rhetorically.

‘Why not,' said Rachel, following her into the kitchen.

‘So why have you got the afternoon off?' Catherine asked absently, opening the fridge.

‘I quit my job.'

That stopped her in her tracks. She turned around. ‘You quit? That's fantastic. This definitely calls for a drink!' She clapped her hands together. ‘Now we can find you a decent job.'

‘I got a job already,' said Rachel.

Catherine frowned at her. ‘When did you quit?'

‘Today.'

‘So did you already have a job lined up?'

‘No, I got the job today as well.'

‘Okay.' She slid a bottle out of the fridge and closed the door, turning to face Rachel. ‘From the beginning.'

And so she related the events of the day, while Catherine proceeded to open the bottle and pour champagne into two glasses, and finally slam the bottle down on the bench as Rachel got to the punchline.

‘A juice bar!' she exclaimed. ‘You have got to be kidding me, Rachel.'

‘What's so bad about that?'

‘Well, for one thing, you're not a teenage girl.'

‘That actually worked in my favour.'

‘It's a juice bar, what kind of career path are you on? I've never known anyone to work their way down.'

Rachel pulled a face. ‘Look, Catherine, I need an income, and this won't be regular hours, I won't be travelling as far, and it'll give me time to figure out what I want to do. And I won't go into debt in the meantime.'

‘So it's only temporary?'

‘I don't see myself retiring there.'

Catherine shook her head as she picked up her glass. ‘Well, at least I'll drink to you getting away from that other place.'

‘Thank you,' said Rachel as they clinked glasses.

‘Let's go out onto the terrace,' Catherine suggested.

Having a drink at Catherine's was like going to a nice bar: she always had good wine and incredibly good nibbles. When they were seated at the outdoor table, the champagne chilling in a bucket beside them and a plate of antipasto between them, Catherine resumed her line of questioning.

‘Does your Matthew know about this new job yet?'

Rachel hesitated. Maybe she could talk about Tom after all, using his alias. Though she would have to be careful.

She nodded. ‘He's not very happy about it, he doesn't like the idea of me working on weekends.'

‘I can understand that.'

‘Yeah, well, it isn't very fair. He wants me available at the drop of a hat whenever he has a free hour he can fit me in.'

Catherine frowned. ‘I thought you said he was with legal aid?'

Rachel looked up. ‘Yeah, so?'

‘One thing that comes with the low pay is regular hours at least,' she said. ‘Why can he only give you an hour here and there?'

Oh bugger. ‘It's complicated.'

Catherine's jaw dropped. ‘Oh my God, he's not married, is he?'

‘No,' Rachel assured her. ‘But he was, until relatively recently, and there are kids involved, so we have to be sensitive.'

Catherine was listening to her, Rachel could almost see the cogs turning in her brain.

‘Is it really over, do you think?' she asked.

‘Oh, it's really over, she's not coming back.'

‘So
she
was the one who left?'

Rachel nodded, this was getting weird. She drained her glass, and reached for the bottle.

‘Did he know it was coming?' Catherine persisted.

Rachel shook her head, filling her glass.

‘So it was a shock?'

‘I guess,' she said, passing the bottle to Catherine. ‘Yeah, it was a shock.'

‘He was still in love with her then?'

Rachel nodded faintly. She hadn't thought about it quite like that before. But of course Tom was still in love with Annie; he had to be, feelings don't just evaporate. Could someone be in love with two people at the same time? She picked up her glass and gulped down half of it.

‘God, Rachel,' said Catherine, refilling her glass. ‘I don't know why you'd choose to get caught up in such a mess.'

She stared down at the paving. ‘Because I love him.'

‘You hardly know him.'

‘I knew him years ago, remember?'

Catherine stuck the bottle back in the ice bucket. ‘I've never heard you talk about him before and suddenly he's the love of your life?'

‘Maybe,' she said quietly.

Catherine was watching her. ‘How does he feel about you?'

‘He says he loves me.'

She shook her head. ‘I don't know, Rachel, this sounds like serious rebound territory to me.'

Rachel could feel a lump rising in her throat. Catherine was right, that's exactly what it was. Good old Rachel, a safe harbour to sit out a patch of rough weather. ‘So what should I do?'

‘Don't ask me,' Catherine shrugged. ‘I can't tell you what to do.'

‘What are you talking about, you always tell me what to do,' Rachel insisted, her voice breaking. ‘You have to tell me what to do, I've been dealing with this all on my own, and someone just has to tell me what to do.'

‘Hey,' Catherine said, reaching over and covering Rachel's hand with her own. ‘It's not like you to get so emotional.'