She told herself she was just being silly – that she’d only ever thought of Tom as a friend and the mushiness meant nothing. Even if shedidhave some sort of crush on him, Rachel reasoned, there was nothing to be done about it. He’d made it painfully clear he wasn’t interested, so what was the point in agonising? Better to ignore it – push it down as deep as it would go, then hope it withered away.
If Zahra noticed something was off between Anna and Rachel when they got to her shop, she had the good sense not to acknowledge it. As on the first day they’d met, Zahra left them to look through the gowns she’d already set aside while she made three cups of tea.
‘What do you think, Rach?’ Anna asked, running her hand along the rail full of dresses.
‘They’re all nice,’ Rachel answered. ‘But it’s your wedding. I want you to make the final decision.’
Anna, with barely concealed irritation, said: ‘You’d better try them all, then.’
Rachel wasn’t sure what Anna was cross about. She was terrible at judging what looked good on herself, and even in normal situations deferred to Anna when she needed help deciding what to wear.
About forty minutes later, and with valuable input from Zahra, they’d narrowed the choices down to a plain green shift dress draped with soft chiffon, and a prom-style gown with a sweetheart neckline in the same shade of peach as the embroidery on Anna’s dress.
Either would work with the wedding colour scheme Anna had put together. The flowers – various shades of peach, orange and cream – would ‘really pop’ against the green gown, Zahra said. Anna could wear a piece of emerald jewellery, or even green shoes, to tie the two looks together.
Privately, Rachel felt happier in the green shift. Peach wasn’t a shade she’d ever choose for herself; it robbed her pale skin of warmth and clashed with her red hair. This particular gown made her look bloodless – positively unwell.
‘So …?’ Anna said. ‘What’s the verdict?’
‘Whichever you’re happier with,’ Rachel said.
Anna eyed her, frustrated, and didn’t bother to try to hold in her answering sigh.
‘If you want my view, the green is the one,’ Zahra said. ‘The style of the dress works better with yours, Anna, and I think it’s a better colour on Rachel.’
‘Thank you,’ Anna said. ‘I’m glad someone around here is capable of telling the truth. Let’s go with it.’
Zahra looked momentarily uncomfortable, then took Anna over to her desk to discuss alterations and payment. Rachel felt desolate.
Then her phone began ringing from the bottom of her handbag.For fuck’s sake, she thought.
Rachel considered ignoring it, but wondered whether it might be Tom calling about this afternoon’s shoot. If there was a problem, or a change of time or location, he’d need to tell her about it.
She finally found her mobile buried beneath a paperback, this week’sStylistmagazine, her worse-for-wear wallet and several tinted lip balms.Mum calling, it said.
‘Arrghhhhh,’ she groaned out loud, just as Anna reappeared, ready to head back to the bus stop.
‘What’s up?’ Anna asked as they waved goodbye to Zahra and closed the shop door behind them. Her knitted eyebrows betrayed genuine concern, despite her earlier snappiness.
‘Nothing,’ Rachel said, though she suddenly felt close to tears. ‘My mum’s harassing me about what I’m doing, living-arrangements-wise, after the wedding. She and Dad keep demanding information: where will I live, who will I live with, blah blah blah. It’s driving me mad.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you that maybe they justcare, Rachel?’ Anna said, whirling around to face her so fast that Rachel flattened her back against a wall. ‘Don’t you realise how fucking LUCKY you are that theygive a shitabout whether you’re safe, whether you’re happy … Whether you have some sort of life plan?’
A wave of guilt broke over Rachel’s head. She felt sick with contempt for herself – not to mention shocked by Anna’s uncharacteristic swearing.
Of course Anna was right. It was the height of insensitivity for Rachel to complain about her parents when Anna’s own mother had refused to come to her wedding.
Poor Anna had agonised over whether to contact Nicola – whether to open up and risk feeling, once again, like the dejected teenager whose mum wasn’t interested in her. When the wedding response card had come back last week with theNobox ticked and no personal message or attempt at explanation, Anna had sobbed in Will’s arms and eaten a whole pot of Häagen-Dazs.
‘Anna, I—’
‘Don’t. I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but I think I’m starting to feel the same way your poor mum does: as though you’re only giving me half the story, no matter what we talk about. You tell yourself you’re sparing other people, stopping them from worrying by holding everything in – but it’s just a way for you to hide from how you really feel,’ Anna ranted. ‘Having said that, there are obviously some feelings you’ve decidednotto hide from recently – and I understand entirely why you’d want to keep that quiet. What the hell are you thinking, getting close to Jack again because he’s batting his eyelashes at you, buying you birthday champagne and telling you he’s changed? It’s beyond idiotic. It’s desperate.’
Rachel felt like she’d been slapped.
‘Hold on a minute,’ she said, hurt and suddenly angry. ‘I know you’re mad with me – but you have no idea what’s been happening with Jack.’
‘Oh, please,’ Anna groaned. ‘I know better thanyoudo what’s been “happening with Jack”.’ She mimed speech marks, her voice jeering and her face the perfect picture of derision. ‘You told yourself you were over him, but he’s always had houseroom in your head – he’d been living in your brain, rent-free, for a decade before he ever appeared in your office. Why else would you ever have looked twice at a boring git like Laurence? Since Jack, every man you’ve been out with has been either a heartless shagger or a total dullard. It’s like you need to know up-front that, one way or another, there’s no future in any relationship you start. That whoever you’re with won’t make you care too much, then let you down.’