Rachel shrugged. “Worried about her coming home.”
“It must be hard.”
Rachel nodded. In the last few weeks plenty of people in the village had offered their sympathy, whether it was a smile in the street or a card popped through their door. Everyone’s compassion had been tempered by the fact that Rachel had been dealing with her invalid mother for a decade. This was merely another step down a depressingly expected road. Juliet, despite her sympathetic smile, was the same.
“So I think we got them all right except number five,” Lucy said as Peter returned with their drinks. “The one about who won Wimbledon in 1996...”
“Surely it had to be Pete Sampras,” Juliet said. “Didn’t he win Wimbledon about ten times in a row?”
“I think it’s a trick question.” Lucy nibbled on the end of her pencil. “What do you think, Rachel?”
“I think I should go home.” Rachel put her half-drunk glass of wine on the table. “Sorry. I’m tired and not in the mood. I don’twant to bring you all down.” She gave everyone an apologetic smile, but they all were looking shocked and then worse, worried. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just need a good night’s sleep.” She turned to Lily, who was frowning at her. “Stick to a half-pint of cider,” she instructed sternly, and Lily rolled her eyes. Claire, Rachel saw, was talking to Dan, who had softened slightly in the last half hour, although he still resembled a slab of concrete.
Grabbing her bag, Rachel shouldered her way through the pub, only to stop when Rob called her name.
“You’ve missed a few quizzes lately,” he remarked as she paused by the bar. “You areet?”
“I’m fine, Rob, just have a lot going on.”
He filled a pint with foaming beer and pushed it across the top of the bar to a woman who was nearly spilling out of her top. Rachel didn’t recognize her, and Rob didn’t take his eyes off Rachel.
“Anything I can do?”
“No, not really.” She felt a flicker of guilt for flirting with Rob a few weeks ago. His concern now made her squirm.
He nodded towards the door as he filled another pint. “Then maybe you want to go see what’s parked outside your house.”
She tensed with alarm as she thought of Meghan’s bloodshot eyes, her blotchy face. “What... ?”
Rob smiled and shook his head to dispel the nameless fears that had been circling. “A navy Lexus. Andrew West’s car, if I’m not mistaken. I saw it when I took out the bins a few minutes ago.”
“Oh...” Heat flooded her face, and Rob smiled wryly.
“I think he might be looking for you.”
Rachel nodded jerkily and walked out of the pub. Outside it was still light, although the sun had sunk behind the rows of terraced cottages and so the street was cast in shadow, empty except for a couple of spotty teens loitering in front of theshuttered post office shop with their skateboards. She looked up the street and saw the navy blue Lexus parked, incongruously, behind her beat-up hatchback. And Andrew West standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
She walked towards him, slowly at first, her heart beating too hard for the occasion, her mind feeling as if it were filled with cotton wool even though she’d had only half a glass of wine.
Andrew saw her coming and offered a wonderfully lopsided, uncertain smile. “I thought I’d just stop by...” he began, trailing off as Rachel kept walking towards him and then in to him, wrapping her arms around his middle as she pressed her face against the starched cotton of his shirt.
Andrew’s arms closed around her instinctively, but his body was tense. Rachel could feel his heart beating underneath her cheek.
“Rachel . . . is everything okay?”
“Yes. I just needed a hug.”
“You needed a hug?” His arms tightened around her. “Things must really be bad.”
“No worse than usual,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I can certainly oblige you,” Andrew murmured, and he fit her body more closely to his, so for a few seconds she felt as if she could relax, as if she could let herself not be in charge.
Then, eventually, he loosened his embrace and pulled back from her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She pushed a few strands of hair away from her face, the embarrassment of having thrown herself at him, even if only for a hug, starting to scorch her. No wonder Andrew had seemed so surprised. He’d been expecting a snappy comeback and instead she’d nestled against his chest. “Sorry,” she muttered as she moved past him.
“Hey.” Andrew reached for her arm and pulled her towards him. “Wait a minute. Don’t think I don’t appreciate a hug. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
