Then and Always (5 page)

Phil was the first to arrive, looking tanned and much more
muscled and broad-shouldered than I remembered. He crushed me to him in such a bear hug of an embrace, I felt sure some ribs were going to give way in the process. “Okay, need to breathe now.”

He laughed and released me, sliding into the chair beside me.

“You’re looking good, Rachel,” he began, and I had to almost sit on my hand to stop myself from automatically reaching up to check if my hair was still hiding my face. If he noticed, he was too polite to say. “It’s been way too long. How have you been? Are you still living in Devon?”

We filled in the gaps in our histories, keeping it light, and his story was sufficiently varied to carry the conversation until the next arrival: Trevor and his partner, Kate. I didn’t know that Sarah had invited partners, but as I introduced myself, after receiving a lift-you-off-your-feet hug from her boyfriend, I realized that Sarah had been wise to have included outsiders at our group’s reunion. New faces would take the pressure off.

For the first time I counted up the place settings at the table, and wondered who the extra seat was for. I didn’t have to wait long to find out, for Sarah burst into the restaurant with an infectious grin, a bundle of
Getting Married
helium balloons in her hand and her fiancé, Dave, in tow.

“Who brings their fiancé to their hen night?” joked Phil, standing up to shake Dave’s hand warmly in greeting.

“What can I say? He just can’t bear to be apart from me.”

I gave her my warmest smile and then nodded my head toward the balloons.

“Classy.”

“I thought so.”

“Well, this is a really nice place,” pronounced Dave, pulling
out a chair for Sarah before settling himself closely beside her. “Very posh.”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed, and then stage-whispered across to me, “Better get on the phone and cancel that
‘entertainment,’
Rach.”

By this time Trevor had been approached by the wine waiter, and while a discussion ensued over what to order, Sarah took the opportunity to lean over and whisper in my ear.

“How are you doing, hon?
Really
.”

“Hanging in there,” I whispered back, and when I saw the concern cloud her brow, I knew I had to try harder. “I’m fine, stop worrying about me.” She gave my hand a quick squeeze and leaned back in her chair.

The first awkward moment occurred shortly after our chosen drinks were delivered to our table.

“So who are we missing then?” asked Trevor blithely, and an uncomfortable silence ricocheted between us.

“Matt and Cathy said they might be a little late,” Sarah said quickly, and Dave, who clearly was in tune with his future wife, immediately forestalled any awkwardness by embarking on a long and improbable story about his recent experience with a parking attendant.

We were all still laughing when I noticed a few diners at other tables glancing up in appreciation toward the entrance. Without looking up, I knew they had arrived. Individually they had always had the ability to turn heads; I knew that only too well from my own time spent by Matt’s side. But together they were phenomenal. Magazine-photo perfect. Movie-star beautiful. The combination was almost breathtaking and as they made their way toward us I noted that they both looked, if anything, even more stunning than they had five years earlier.
I’d never felt so plain in my entire life. And empty. Because I knew that in another life, with another roll of the dice, there would have been someone sitting at this table to reassure me that was simply not so.

Cathy had dressed to stun, that much was obvious. The figure-hugging black halter-neck dress did exactly what it was supposed to do; the neckline and thigh-high split gave tantalizing glimpses of both cleavage and long tanned legs. Her hair was blonder than I remembered and fluffed to perfection about her face. But it was Matt who drew my eye; who had always drawn my eye, I admitted honestly. Like Phil, he too looked taller and broader than I remembered. His dark suit and crisp white shirt looked expensive, and from their immaculate fit I guessed they hadn’t been bought off the peg. His face was leaner, more chiseled than it had been, although his eyes, as they met mine and smiled in greeting, were still the same. I tried to smile convincingly back, thinking suddenly that this was just like earlier today when I had stood before my old house: that strange feeling that here was something that was mine, but yet clearly wasn’t mine anymore.

There was the usual round of greetings and I was glad of the flurry of hugs, handshakes, and hellos, for it meant that by the time Matt leaned down to kiss me lightly on the cheek, I had pretty much suppressed my purely hormonal reaction at seeing him again. Cathy too leaned over to kiss me hello, and I saw something unreadable flicker behind her eyes as she took in my scarred face. Not that the scar itself should be a shock to any one of them. They had all visited me in hospital many times in the immediate aftermath of the accident. Until I had driven them all away, that was.

The evening was both a success and a failure. On the surface, we appeared to play our roles well. There was the happy
couple-to-be, surrounded by their old friends, gathered together from far and wide to wish them well. But it felt like we were all second-rate actors in a rather unoriginal play. We all said the right things, raised our glasses for toasts at the appropriate moments, but somehow the effort of
not
saying something about the last time we had all sat together around a dining table was so immense that it suffocated any real pleasure. I wondered how it felt to Kate and Dave and if they were aware of it too.

I had assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that most of the old group had still met up during their university breaks, so it was surprising to learn that although they had seen each other in ones and twos, not once in the intervening years had there been an event where everyone had been together. I hadn’t known that the loss of Jimmy and my own disappearance had so effectively dissolved the glue between us.

At least there were no awkward gaps in the conversation. There was enough ground to cover in bringing everyone up to date with their lives that silence wasn’t the problem. We learned that Matt had been working in his family’s business since finishing uni and Cathy was something in PR—she did explain it, but to be honest I wasn’t listening properly. I was far more fascinated with her body language than the words she spoke. From the moment she had sat down at the table, her every action screeched out her possession of Matt. She was all but entwined around him as we waited to be served. In fact, given that most of her limbs seemed to be twisted in some way around his, I couldn’t help wondering if she’d have an arm free to eat. And the weird thing was, I knew this show of display was all for me. But why? It had been years since Matt and I had broken up. Broken
apart
, in fact, would be a better way to describe it. And after several excruciatingly
painful and abortive attempts, he had finally stopped trying to get in touch in the hope that I was going to change my mind. I’d made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want him in my life. And it was as true today as it had been back then, so what was with Cathy’s astonishing behavior?

As our last course was cleared away, the wine waiter appeared at my elbow to refill my glass. I quickly covered its surface with my hand.

“No, no more for me, thank you.”

“You’re not driving, are you?” queried Trevor, who clearly had no intention of abstaining from any proffered alcoholic beverage.

“No, I came by taxi,” I replied. I’d been wondering when someone was going to notice that I’d had no more than a couple of sips of wine all night. “I just think I’m going to need a clear head to cope with Sarah tomorrow. If not, she’ll drive me totally crazy.”

Sarah pretended to look offended and everyone laughed. They all seemed to accept the lie. In truth, I knew I shouldn’t have drunk any alcohol at all after the amount of painkillers I’d taken that day. And then, as if by thinking of it, my headache flared up again in a sudden blazing torch of agony. I got to my feet, hoping nobody had noticed that I’d needed to rest my hands on the table to steady myself.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” I said to no one in particular, and, using every effort in my power, I walked, in what I hoped was a straight line, toward the ladies’.

Once safely in the rather opulent cloakroom, I let out a long shaky sigh of relief and lowered myself gently onto a small velvet-covered bench. The pain was still searingly strong behind my eyes; so intense that my vision was beginning to blur at the edges. It had only been this severe a couple of
times before, and I’d had much more warning on those occasions. Never before had the pain erupted as it had just now. I didn’t doubt that the tension I’d been under all day had probably not helped the situation.

My fingers shook as I reached into my handbag for my pills. I almost cried in frustration as the childproof cap nearly defeated me, cracking my fingernail in my haste to pry open the container. Two pills again, once more without water. I closed my eyes against the brightly lit room and waited until I felt a little more in control.

I knew now that the time for putting off those hospital tests was long past. This wasn’t just going to go away by itself. However frightening the results might be, something was seriously wrong, and not knowing what it was wasn’t going to make it any better. There was, I supposed, some sort of black irony in realizing I still suffered from the effects of my injuries during the only time I’d returned to the place I had sustained them.

Just let me get through this wedding weekend
, I promised myself,
and I’ll make the appointment first thing on Monday
.

By now I had exceeded the amount of time I could reasonably be absent from the table without having Sarah come looking for me. I didn’t want her to think the reason I’d been missing so long had anything to do with Cathy’s territorial display. And I
certainly
didn’t want her to come in and figure out the real reason was because I was suddenly terrified there was something seriously wrong with me.

I got to my feet and was pleased to find that I didn’t feel nearly as shaky as I had before and my vision was no longer blurred. I rinsed my hands under cool water and then carefully saturated and squeezed out one of the small folded flannel towels from the basket beside the basins and pressed the
wadded cloth against my forehead. I was on the point of returning to the others when the door of the cloakroom swung open and Cathy walked in.

“Everything okay?” she asked, and though she’d used the right words, the tone was all wrong. Or perhaps it was just that her eyes held zero interest in my response. When had Cathy become so hard? Sure, there had always been an abrasive side to her, but we’d still been friends. What had I done to her to warrant this attitude? If anything, she should be grateful. It was clear she had always been interested in Matt, so I’d have thought she’d have been pleased that I’d voluntarily taken myself out of the picture. And besides, that was all years ago. Teenage stuff. Surely we were beyond all that now?

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, it’s been a hectic week at work,” I lied.

“Sorry, what did you say you do again?” Nice to know she’d been paying attention when I’d been talking about it earlier.

“I’m a secretary.”

“Oh, yes. Never did get to go into journalism then? That
was
what you were going to do, wasn’t it?”

Bitch. How could she be so thoughtless? She knew only too well why and how my plans for that particular life had been cut short and how I’d never been able to go to university as I’d intended.

“No.” I hoped my voice sounded less venomous than it did in my head. “Obviously everything changed after …”

She nodded, and may have looked just the smallest bit shamefaced for the clumsy way she had forced the topic in a difficult direction. But just when I thought she might be displaying a modicum of compassion, it was lost as she made a great show of brushing back her blond mane from her immaculate
face and leaning closer to the mirror as though scrutinizing for imperfections. There were none; I could have told her that. Whatever she saw, be it her own perfect reflection or my own scar-damaged one, the malice seemed to instantly dissipate. Deciding that there was no competition to be feared here, she turned and gave me an artless smile.

“I hope you won’t take offense, Rachel, but have you ever thought of seeing if something could be done about your face? You used to be such a pretty girl.”

For a wicked moment I considered playing dumb and innocently asking, “My face? Why? Is there something wrong with it?” But I didn’t. And anyway, as much as I was unhappy with the way I looked, I had no intention of visiting any plastic surgeon she was about to recommend to me. And I’d be crazy if I expected the shallow and unthinking person Cathy seemed to have become to understand that the problem wasn’t that nothing
could
be done, but more that I didn’t feel I
deserved
to have things improved. Certainly my father and Sarah, who had both raised this topic years before (with a great deal more tact and diplomacy), had been unable to comprehend what they saw as my martyr logic.

Fortunately, the door of the cloakroom swung open then to herald Sarah’s arrival. There was an urgency about her entrance that was almost comical. She swept the pair of us with a knowing look and I knew she had instantly assessed what was going on. I recognized a look on her face from many an altercation in our past, and shook my head almost imperceptibly. Reluctantly, the fire in her gaze was doused. I suspected she’d been looking forward to saying something to Cathy that definitely should remain unsaid.

“Have we moved my party in here then, girls?” she breezed, joining us at the mirror and linking her arm through mine in
an obvious display of solidarity. Cathy was insensitive, but not entirely oblivious.

“No, no. Rachel and I were just catching up. Let’s go.” But then Cathy, being Cathy, couldn’t resist one last poisoned dart. “I’m sure Matt will be worrying about what’s happened to me.”