Rachel had no idea whether she’d ever been more to Tom than a friend, but she was increasingly certain that – even if he’d harboured deeper feelings at one stage – she’d screwed things up beyond redemption.
As her dad lugged a box full of books towards the flat door, he groaned aloud, ‘Where’s that nice tall friend of yours with the glasses, Rachel? This is a young man’s job.’
‘He’s in Belfast, Dad. Away for work.’
‘You’ll have to make do with me, Mr Ryan,’ Will put in as he heaved Rachel’s chest of drawers along the corridor. ‘Though you can rest assured I will berate Tom for not being here for this – as soon as I can.’
‘Ach, call me Paddy.Mrmakes me feel ancient.’
‘How much more stuff is there?’ Anna called from outside.
‘Just the wardrobe,’ Rachel yelled.
‘Cool, there’s a space in the van for it. We’re good.’
Ten minutes later, Rachel’s room in the Stroud Green flat was bare. There were dark patches of paint on the walls – rectangles of deeper colour where she’d had furniture or hung pictures. In the place where her bed had been, the carpet was an inch deep in dust.
‘Rachel Margaret Ryan, that’s adisgrace,’ her mum had said when they took the bed apart to put it in the van. Rachel couldn’t disagree.
As she stared around the home she was leaving, Rachel felt as choked with emotion as she’d thought she would. But blended with the pain of going away was the knowledge that this was necessary; this wasright. Anna and Will needed to move on, and so did she. It was sort of like taking a plaster cast off a long-broken leg, Rachel thought. The skin that had sat beneath it might be pale and the muscles a little withered – but the cast had done its job. The bones it had protected were mended now, and it was time to put them to use again.
Much to her mother’s delight, Rachel was moving in with Conor, a second cousin of hers who was coming over from Dublin to take a job at a North London architectural firm. They were the same age, and as children they’d spent many summer holidays together – often ending up in scrapes that Lizzy had had to get them out of. Rachel hadn’t seen Conor in person since Christmas a couple of years ago, but they’d stayed in touch online and she had no doubt they’d rub along well as housemates.
Their new place was near Archway, just a few minutes’ bus ride from Anna’s flat. Rachel’s dad drove the van over there, followed by Anna and Will in his Mini, the back seat of which was packed with overstuffed bags of clothes and shoes.
Once both vehicles had been unloaded, Will suggested that he and Anna give Rachel and her parents a little time to start unpacking and get her settled in. Rachel and Anna’s goodbye was a strange, dramatic spectacle. They both sobbed, clinging to one another as though one of them were about to go to war. As it was, they were meeting up at a pub near Rachel’s new flat for dinner in roughly three hours’ time.
‘Tea,’ Rachel’s mum said, unboxing the new kettle Rachel had bought and fishing a plastic carton of milk from her gigantic tote bag. Once she, her husband and daughter were settled on the landlord’s sofa with mugs in their hands, she said, ‘I’m proud of you, Rachel. And while you think I’m a daft old bat who understands nothing, I know how hard today’s been for you. The only reason I ever worried about this happening was because I was scared you might not cope with it. But now I can see that you’re going to.’
‘I don’t think you’re a daft old bat,’ Rachel said. ‘Just a bit …Mrs Bennetabout me still being single. But who knows, maybe I’ll find my Mr Darcy at Anna and Will’s wedding. Weddings are supposed to be good for meeting people, aren’t they?’
‘Mrs Bennet wasn’t the eejit she’s made out to be, you know – she had five daughters and no way to take care of them without marrying them off. Sorting them out with husbands wasn’t needless meddling, it was responsible parenting. And as foryoufinding a man … I don’t want you coupled up because I’m keen on the idea of a new hat, or because I think the only valid life choices for a woman are marriage and motherhood. I’m fifty-nine, not a hundred. You’re strong and successful, Rachel. I tell everyone how brilliant you are. Mrs O’Shea’s sick of hearing about London and advertising and your arty exhibition … She talks about nothing but how knackered she is now she’s doing two days of free childcare every week for her Helen. But I don’t want you to bealone, Rachel. When me and your dad are gone, I worry about who you’ll have …’
Bloody hell. Jean Ryan was crying.
‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way,’ she said. ‘You weren’t meant to be an only child, and I’m so sorry you are.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ Rachel murmured, pulling her closer. She was tiny and slight – only a little taller than Anna. Not for the first time, Rachel marvelled that a person this small had given birth to her.
‘It’s okay, Mum.I’mokay. We all miss her. And I promise you, I’m not going to end up alone and miserable.’
‘Sure you won’t,’ Rachel’s dad said. ‘Not when you’ve inherited my stunning good looks. Now come on, the pair of you, and stop your crying. We need to rebuild Rachel’s bed – and based on the amount of nuts and bolts that came out of it this morning, we’d better get started if she’s going to want any sleep before next Thursday.’
Rachel arrived at the Hope on Friday night to find Anna and Will fighting over what remained of a packet of cheese and onion crisps.
‘Er. What the heck are you doing here?’ Anna asked her, bug-eyed.
‘Charming,’ Rachel said, throwing herself into a vacant chair and slinging her bags under the table.
‘I mean it,’ Anna said fiercely. ‘Why aren’t you on your way to the exhibition press night? You worked on it for months – your words are on display in a trendy gallery that, in about an hour’s time, is going to be stuffed full of journalists and celebrities. Not to mention shitloads of free snacks and drinks.’
‘I can’t go, Anna. You know why. We talked about this.’
Will took a gulp of Guinness – he’d developed a taste for it since Conor had started hanging out with them – then shook his head. ‘Have you and Tom still not sorted things?’ he asked. ‘Someone needs to bang your bloody heads together.’
‘What. Are. You.Talking. About?’ Anna demanded. Rachel had sworn her to secrecy about the fight she’d had with Tom, and Anna hadn’t breathed a word.
‘The fact that he loves her and, apparently, she’s now realised she loves him. Facts that nobody – apart from me, now – has actually stated out loud.’
