Three’s a Crowd (58 page)

‘Oh, yes, I have a map,' said Lexie, pulling a piece of paper out
of her handbag and consulting it. She looked around. ‘I think it's this way.'

They found the grave easily enough, the map was quite straightforward. Rachel would never have found it otherwise, she hadn't been back since the funeral, and she certainly hadn't been paying attention that day. As they approached, the site looked very neat; they probably did some tidying up when they laid the stone. The three of them stood quietly at the foot of the grave, reading the epitaph.

‘
Mother, wife, friend
,' Lexie read aloud after a while. ‘
Forever young, forever loved
.' She paused. ‘It's very simple. I guess I expected . . .'

‘What, Lexie?' Rachel asked.

She shrugged. ‘Well, more, I suppose. Something to say how wonderful and amazing Annie was.'

‘How can you express that in a few words carved on stone?' said Catherine. ‘And they all end up sounding the same – “beloved” wife, “adored” mother, “loving” friend, or some variation on that. I think this is very dignified.'

Rachel slipped her arm through Lexie's. ‘You know what Annie was like, she hated having a fuss made of her.'

Lexie smiled then. ‘You're right, it's perfect.' She took out her phone and aimed it, taking a couple of shots.

Catherine stepped forwards to place her floral arrangement on the grave. While it was huge and excessive, at least it was all native flowers, which Annie would have loved: proteas and banksias and bottlebrushes. And it would last for ages. Unlike Rachel's little posy of cottage flowers that would be wilted by tomorrow. She bent down and laid them beside Catherine's arrangement. Still, they were pretty, and they'd reminded her of Annie when she saw them in the florist shop.

‘Catherine,' Lexie said after a while, ‘remember how you had that idea that we should be inspired by Annie's death to do something with our lives?'

Catherine nodded.

‘Well, I guess we have, maybe not the way you intended, but we've all changed, so much has changed.'

‘It certainly has,' said Catherine, and Rachel could feel her looking at her.

‘I think she's resting in peace,' Lexie said finally. There was a long pause, and then suddenly she turned around. ‘Well, I have to run.' She leaned over to give Catherine a peck on the cheek, and Rachel a quick hug, and she was scooting along the path away from them before they'd even registered she was gone.

Rachel sighed inwardly. That sweet demeanour hid a whole lot of cunning. ‘Well, goodbye Catherine,' she said, walking off in the same direction.

‘Rachel, hold on,' said Catherine, hurrying to catch up to her. As usual she was wearing ridiculous heels, while Rachel was in flat boots. She could easily outpace her.

‘Can I give you a lift home?' she called after her.

‘No thanks.'

But Catherine was not giving up that easily. ‘Rachel, Alice has been asking after you. She's wondering why we haven't seen you lately.'

‘I'm sure you'll make up something. Give her my love,' said Rachel, striding ahead.

‘You really don't want to have anything to do with me any more, do you?' she said breathlessly, trying to keep up. ‘Rachel, can you please at least help me understand why? Is it all because of what happened with Tom?'

Rachel sighed, coming to a halt. ‘You just don't get it, do you?'

‘No,' she said, catching up. ‘So explain it to me.'

‘How can you even come here? Show your face here?'

‘Lexie asked me to come.'

‘Catherine!' she scolded. ‘You know what I'm getting at. You were quite prepared to risk ruining their marriage to get what you wanted. And then, even after Annie died, the way you threw yourself into organising the funeral . . . What the hell was that about? Did you actually imagine Tom would fall into your arms afterwards?'

She shrugged. ‘Wishful thinking, I guess.'

Rachel shook her head. ‘You just have no shame, do you? If you want something, you go for it, you don't care who gets hurt in the process, because you are always number one. And you know what shits me most about that? It's that people like you do seem to get it all.'

‘Well, I didn't get Tom.'

‘You were never going to get Tom,' she said plainly. ‘But what you don't seem to realise is that you destroyed their last weeks together. What happened nearly tore Annie apart, and Tom has had to carry that guilt ever since. Can you imagine what that's been like for him?'

At least that seemed to affect her.

‘Is that why it didn't work out between you two?' Catherine asked.

Rachel shook her head, breathing out. ‘You wouldn't understand.'

‘Try me.'

‘You know what, Catherine, I don't want to. I don't want your opinions, or your judgement, I've had quite enough of that to last me a lifetime.'

‘I see.'

‘The thing is, I'm okay, because I know I made the right decision for the right reasons. And sure, I've ended up alone, but at least I can live with myself.' She paused. ‘I'm not like you, Catherine, I don't need a man to feel okay about myself, at any cost. I don't want to go trawling the internet. I could never be with a married man, no matter how much trouble his marriage was in.'

‘Okay,' Catherine said, raising her hands. ‘I get it. I'll back off about you finding someone.'

‘That's not the point.'

‘Then what is?' she implored. ‘We've been friends for a long time, we've always been able to tell each other everything.'

‘No we haven't,' Rachel shook her head. ‘That's what's so ironic. You know, we boast how we've got it all over men, we have such intimacy, such quality relationships. But when it comes down to it we can't say the really hard stuff.'

‘I think I've always been able to,' said Catherine.

‘But I haven't been able to tell you I didn't always appreciate what you said or agree with you.'

‘So go ahead. Say what's on your mind.'

Rachel folded her arms, considering her. She really should say this, it was her last opportunity. ‘You drink too much.'

Catherine blinked. ‘Where did that come from?'

‘I've been watching it for a while now, and a good friend would say something. Actually, no, a good friend wouldn't, that's the problem. So I'm telling you now. You drink too much.'

‘Rachel, everyone drinks too much –'

‘No Catherine, some of us drink too much sometimes,' she said. ‘But you have a problem, and you should do something about it before you hurt anyone else.'

‘Well,' she said, crossing her arms. ‘When you decide to open up, you don't hold back, do you?'

‘I should have said something a long time ago,' said Rachel. ‘Not only about the drinking, but the affairs, and just the way you use people, Catherine. But these things creep up on you gradually . . . until suddenly you realise you're friends with someone you have no respect for any more.'

Catherine flinched.

‘Look, I don't mean to sound morally superior,' Rachel said. ‘Everyone makes mistakes. I have, I know I've made you crazy at times, and I know you've done a lot for me over the years. But I think we've gone as far as we can go.'

‘What's that supposed to mean? You can't treat a friendship like it's got a use-by date.'

‘I don't see why not, you can get a divorce when a marriage is over,' Rachel said plainly.

‘Look,' said Catherine, ‘whatever you may think of me, just hear me out for a minute.' She took a breath. ‘I know I'm not perfect, Rachel, and I realise I've hurt people on occasion. I've come up against some pretty hard truths lately, and I've been dying to talk to you about it all. The whole story with James, you won't believe it. I've come to realise that most of my life has been a reaction to something that didn't even happen the way I thought it did.' She paused. ‘Now I'm trying to work out how to go on with the rest of my life. Martin's left, and I'm not in any hurry to find someone else, for the first time ever. I'm focusing on Alice now. I think we're finally beginning to have a meaningful relationship. It's different, but it feels real. And she's certainly happier.'

‘That all sounds good, Catherine,' said Rachel. ‘I hope everything turns out for you. Now I have to get going.' She turned and started to walk away.

‘So that's that?' Catherine called after her. ‘We have so much history together, doesn't that count for something?'

Rachel paused, turning around to look at her. ‘Maybe, but it's not enough,' she said. ‘Give my love to Alice. She's the best thing you ever did, Catherine, never forget how lucky you are to have her.'

‘Don't you want to keep in touch with her?'

‘I'm sure she knows she can always call me,' she said over her shoulder as she started to walk away again.

‘What about me?' said Catherine. ‘Can I call you sometime?'

Rachel didn't look back. ‘You can call. I just can't promise I'll pick up.'

Rachel was lying in bed, thinking about getting up. Her results had been posted on the internet at some ungodly hour this morning, but she hadn't bothered to set an alarm. She wasn't in any particular rush to check them. Today was her first Saturday off in ages, so she figured she was entitled to a sleep-in. She had worked incredibly hard this semester, getting used to studying again, juggling part-time work, as well as a few weeks of prac teaching. She'd been so busy she'd hardly had time to think about Tom.

But that didn't stop her. She thought about him every day, him and the girls, wondering where they were and what they were doing. But she didn't have time to dwell, or mope, or pine. And that was definitely a good thing, because before she started the course, Rachel had worried she'd sink under the weight of the loss she felt. Mel had helped keep her afloat, and for that Rachel would forever be in her debt. But it was the course that had finally given her purpose, and direction, and so much more. She loved it, even when she found it difficult and infuriating, and she was up half the night struggling to figure out how on earth to
write an essay again, let alone what she was actually going to put in it. But when she stood in front of a class of terrifying fifteen year olds for the first time, Rachel had her moment of truth. She finally knew what she wanted to do with her life.

The flutter of anticipation she felt about checking her results was gradually becoming more persistent, so Rachel decided it was time to get up. She had scored solid marks for all her assignments and received an excellent report for her prac, so she wasn't worried about passing, as such. And now she understood better than ever that grades were subject to bell curves and averages and statistics and whatever, and that she couldn't allow one little letter to detract from all the good work she had done, and more importantly, all that she had learned in the process.

So she turned on her computer as she passed it on her way to the kitchen, where she filled the kettle and plugged it in. Rachel peered out the window while she waited for it to boil. She couldn't see the ocean from back here, but the glimpse of sky between her block and the next was bright blue and clear. She reached over the sink to open the window and was immediately met with a gentle waft of salty sea breeze. Perhaps she'd wander down to the beach later, but she'd put a load of washing on first, and she should write a list and pick up some groceries on the way back. The kettle started to whistle. But first there was that small matter of checking her marks.

Rachel made herself a cup of tea and traipsed back into the living room, plonking down in front of her computer. She put her cup to one side and logged onto her uni account. She followed the links until finally her results appeared, listed on the screen. And she smiled.

She looked around for her phone, remembering it was in her bedroom, recharging. She went and unplugged it, wandering back out to the living room as she keyed in a message to Mel. She pressed
Send
, and sat down in front of the computer again. She picked up her cup of tea and took a sip, when her phone rang.

Rachel answered it. ‘Hi Mel.'

‘What are you doing texting me?' she demanded.

‘I didn't want to interrupt you at work.'

‘You think it's easier to send a text with sticky watermelon
hands?' she said. ‘You would think someone who earned two distinctions and two high distinctions would be smarter than that.'

Rachel laughed.

‘Woohoo,' Mel exclaimed. ‘Kudos. How many of those teachers did you sleep with?'

‘I'll never tell.'

‘So, how are you going to celebrate? What are you doing today?'

‘Oh, I've got heaps to catch up on, washing, housework . . .'

‘You are hopeless, Rach, you're all work, work, work.'

‘And that's how I got two Ds, and two HDs.'

‘And smug to boot,' said Mel. ‘Look, you have to celebrate, you should join us tonight.'

‘What are you doing?'

‘Well, we were just going to stay in, have a quiet one, but –'

‘Thanks anyway, Mel, but I'll be fine.'

‘Jack wouldn't mind, he loves you.'

Rachel laughed. ‘Jack is a gentleman, and he would never show that he minded, but I think he'd go for the “quiet night in” option.'

Jack and Mel had worked together years back, until Jack left to take up a job in the UK. He had come home a few months ago, a casualty of the GFC, and set about looking up old colleagues. They had been going out ever since, and Mel was trying very hard to ignore toothpaste tubes and toilet seats, because, she'd admitted to Rachel, she really liked this one.

‘Don't be so sure,' Mel was saying. ‘If I put it to him that he could have two girls for the price of one . . .'