BooksBarbecue
Back Again, Rachel
Chapters (98)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. 93
  97. 94
  98. Acknowledgements

He folded in on himself; it was clear he was ashamed of this. ‘Everyone was telling me I was making it easier for her to keep drinking, because I did stuff like ring her work when she was “sick”. They said if I left it might shock her into getting help. But it was hard. She was my best friend.’ His jaw clenched. ‘I kept hoping…I kept giving it one more week, hoping things would go back to the way they’d been. Everything was mixed up and fucked up. This amazing girl, beautiful and going places, and now she was a tragic mess. Even though the person I loved wasn’t there any more I felt so guilty for thinking about leaving. I worried about her all the time, anyway, I knew it would be worse if I went—and it was. Leaving her was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I watched my dad dying of Parkinson’s.’ He seemed utterly tormented. ‘But I wasn’t helping her.’ He had started to cry. ‘I left her because by staying I was making everything worse.’

Everyone was focused on Caleb—everyone except me. I was watching Harlie and holding my breath. Her head was bowed, then I spotted movement in her shoulders, a rhythmic shaking. But she could just as easily have been laughing.

But no! Wait! She was rubbing her eyes. Then she straightened up, searching for the tissues and I got a proper look. She was crying. She was crying!

Thank you, God!

66

After work, I spent three hours sitting in a hairdresser’s chair, getting a major job done on my colour. I’d put it off for as long as I could but the forthcoming trip to Barcelona had made it suddenly seem vital.

At some stage, Claire rang. It took about ten minutes to fight my way through the rustly forest of tinfoil to get the phone to my ear. ‘Sorry about that,’ I eventually said. ‘I’m at the hairdresser.’

‘Can you talk?’ she asked.

‘Like I said, I’m at the hairdresser.’

‘So. It’s all planned. The’—she hissed the word—‘swinging. Saturday night. We’ve booked a hotel. This will be an Easter to remember!’

‘Fair play.’

‘Do you mean that?’

‘No.’

‘Am I doing the right thing?’

‘No.’

‘How do you know?’

Actually, I didn’t. I wasn’t Claire. ‘Look. If it’s what you want, then enjoy yourself.’

‘Do you think I will?’

‘You might.’

‘Do you really think it?’

‘No.’

When, finally, I was released from the tinfoil, I came home to an empty house—Kate was doing a night shift. I wished she was here. I couldn’t stop thinking about Luke and I wanted distraction.

I hated him. Absolutely hated him.