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

And I was in the clear! ‘Might own a spork’ was a different kind of insult.

A quick survey revealed that I was the only one of my sisters who’d never done an escape room.

‘Honestly, it’s such fun!’ Margaret declared. ‘Garv and I did one with the kids. The clock is ticking down and you’re trying to decipher the clues and when you beat the clock—we escaped with like ten seconds to spare—you feel a million dollars!’

‘They’re the most stupid fucking things ever invented,’ Helen said. I took this to mean that she had not beaten the clock.

‘Angelo and I adore them.’ Anna, starry-eyed, was on one of her many visits home to Ireland. She dropped in every six weeks or so, for a weekend. ‘It’s like being a kid again. If you go to a high-spec one, it can blow your mind. We went to a zombie hunt in a deserted mall; it was amazing!’

‘This is Dublin,’ Helen reminded her. ‘We don’t do high spec. Or low spec. Or any spec at all. We’re shit.’

‘Not always,’ Margaret said. ‘Our one was in a science lab. A virus had escaped and we were—’

‘Oh yeah,’ Claire said vaguely. ‘I was at that one. Team-building exercise for the volunteers.’

‘You?’ Margaret said. ‘And did you do all the stuff?’

‘Me? In Simone Rocha? On my knees slithering through a crawl space? Not bloody likely.’

‘Who’s on their knees?’ Mum had come into the sitting room for the first time in this conversation.

‘Rachel’s going on a date,’ Helen volunteered. ‘He’s taking her to an escape room.’

Mum’s face filled with outraged colour. ‘A Shades of Grey thing?’

‘WHAT?’

‘He ties her up and whacks her with a riding crop? She has a ping-pong ball in her mouth and tries to escape? I heard about it on Liveline.’

‘Hashtag for fuck’s sake.’ Helen sighed.

*

Quin’s escape room was in an industrial park of anonymous grey warehouses beyond the M50.

He had offered to pick me up, but I’d declined. ‘What if things—as you said—go south? Then you had to drive me home? Sitting side by side in your car for forty-five minutes would take ten years off my life.’

‘Mine too. See you there.’

I got to the place on time and there was no sign of Quin. I stared at my phone and watched the numbers click into two minutes late, then three…When he was six minutes late, a car roared into the parking lot and, with a screech of brakes, pulled up beside me. It was Quin, this time in a jeep.

Late? Two flashy cars? I was having serious doubts.

He jumped out. ‘Sorry I’m late. My son couldn’t find his inhaler.’

A son? Okay, so he has at least one child. ‘Maybe you could have texted?’