She sighed and was surprised to hear the exhalation lapse into a laugh, a tired, sad chuckle that swelled into something crazy. As she giggled, she realised this was partly because, after his performance the other night, she couldn’t help imagining Tom trying to imitate Jessica’s latest pose.
‘What in the world are you laughing at?’ Jack asked. He turned away from the bus and fixed his eyes on his feet.
Rachel wiped tears from her lashes and shook off her outburst, glad to see that Jack had been unsettled by the sudden reappearance of the woman he’d cheated on her with. His lips had turned down and he was frowning, frustrated – as if pissed off that fate had seen fit to photobomb his carefully planned ‘I’m sorry’ scene.
‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘I’m confused. I see nothing funny about any of this.’
Rachel shrugged and shot him a sly smile of her own.
‘You wouldn’t,’ she said, and went back to ignoring him.
6
‘It’s a clusterfuck,’ Rachel declared as she took another sip of gin and tonic. ‘A total and utter disaster. The agency’s being taken over, everything at work is going to change … and thenhehas to turn up into the bargain. You could – not – make – it – up.’
She drained her glass and put it down on the table, then looked around at her friends. Will’s soft, usually smiling eyes were anxious and Anna was biting a nail. Tom was frowning, turning a cardboard beermat over and over in his hands.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ Anna said. ‘I mean … what are the chances?’
‘I know. It would probably be funny if it weren’t so BLOODY AWFUL.’
Will heaved himself up off the leather sofa he’d sunk into. Recognising that it was probably the most useful contribution he could make to the conversation right now, he said, ‘I’ll go to the bar.’
‘I don’t know what I’m going to do,’ Rachel sighed. The last of her rage had ebbed away and she felt empty, deflated. Dangerously close to tears.
Slumped down in her seat, she tipped her head back to stare at the ornate ceiling of the pub – an old gin palace on the road into Crouch End. About halfway between the girls’ flat and Will and Tom’s place, the Hope Tavern was elegant yet unpretentious: the kind of place that served real ale, a wide selection of gins and a good Sunday roast. It had original stained glass in its heavy mahogany doors, dark wood panelling on the walls and roaring real fires in winter.
The four of them ended up here most Fridays, sometimes with additional boyfriends and girlfriends if Rachel and Tom were seeing people. Traditionally, though, their ‘start the weekend’ meet-up was cheerier than this.
‘Maybe I should just leave – look for another job,’ Rachel said, squeezing her eyes shut in the hope that, when she opened them again, everything might be back to normal.
‘Hmm. That seems extreme, Rach.’
She opened one eye to look at Tom, who was peering at her over the remnants of his pint.
‘Why should you quit a job you’re good at and which – vegetable bullshit aside – you mostly enjoy? A takeover like this is bound to feel scary, but I doubt you’re someone the business will want to lose, even if they’re planning to let people go. A restructure could even be good for you. Isn’t it worth sticking around to find out?’
Rachel groaned at him good-naturedly.
‘Thomas, do youalwayshave to be so bloody rational?’
He shrugged and smiled, opening his palms in apology. ‘I can’t help it. Wisdom is the cross I have to bear.’
Rachel sat up straighter and made a face at him. ‘The trouble is, this is not a simple question of what makes sense, career-wise. It’s about whether I can stand being in the same office as someone who …’
‘Broke your heart,’ Anna put in: a statement rather than a question.
‘I wasgoingto say: someone who totally screwed me over and is a massive cheating twat.’
‘Oh.’
‘I guess only you know how strongly you still feel about him,’ Tom said, fiddling with the beermat again. ‘I mean, er, about what happened. But I somehow doubt he’ll be a shit to you at work. He sounds too clever and far too selfish to risk his own reputation. More likely he’ll stay out of your way, especially if you warn him off.’
‘Maybe,’ Rachel replied, her chin cupped in her hands. ‘It might be we don’t have that much to do with each other at work anyway … We’re in different departments, I suppose. And just so we’re clear, I donothave “strong feelings” for Jack – or about how things ended between us.’
She tried not to wince as his name left her lips.
‘In that case,’ Tom said, ‘what’s the harm in giving yourself a few weeks just to see how you handle being around the … what was it? “Massive cheating twat”? Then, if you decide it’s too uncomfortable, you can start job-hunting.’
