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

Mimicking Giles’s accent with impressive spite, Trassa replied, ‘Having a threesome with your first wife and your second wife, while you’re married to your third wife. Is that not…fraud?’

Shame silenced Giles. Eventually he managed, ‘To be accurate, it’s adultery. Morally wrong. What you did, though, that was an actual crime.’

After a brief, stunned silence, Trassa began a stuttering defence. ‘Well! It’s fine and dandy for Mr Cokehead Giles! You’ve plenty of money. But for the likes of me, decent people, who earn their money honestly, we do what we can to get by. What’s mine is my husband’s and what’s my husband’s is mine.’ Witheringly, she said, ‘You and your exhibition openings and sailing around the Greek islands listening to opera, you’ll never understand what it’s like for a woman like me, so keep your posh mouth shut!’

Giles promptly did. Everyone had their mouths zipped. Trassa’s control of the group was extraordinary.

‘Trassa,’ I said. ‘You’re not getting it. What you did is illegal.’

‘But not wrong.’ Trassa was loud.

Harlie, who until now had been twirling her hair and staring into the middle distance, sat up so abruptly that the whole room looked at her. ‘I’m sick of your shit,’ she declared. ‘You lied by acting like you’d only borrowed about fifty euro.’

My heart leapt. For almost a week Harlie had been angry but worryingly aloof; this outburst indicated progress.

‘Lied!’ Trassa exploded. ‘When did I ever lie?’

‘It’s called “lying by omission”,’ Giles supplied, suddenly brave.

Harlie flicked him a scornful glance. ‘Thanks, Giles, I had, like, literally no idea.’ She shifted back to Trassa. ‘You’re a liar.’

‘No, but…’ Trassa ran out of words. She seemed confused.

We were finally getting someplace. Trassa was no longer entirely convinced by her own lies and I needed to park this for a while, to let her truth begin its sacred rearrangement.

9

It was Thursday night before Brigit called me back.

She and I could go for weeks without speaking but our connection was as strong as when we’d shared an apartment in New York, more than twenty years ago.

Around the time I got into recovery she fell for a man from County Galway, with soft-voiced banter and devilment in his eyes. Like everyone, he ‘worked in IT’. They suffered a tough few early years, crammed into a small apartment in Queens with their two young boys, then returned to Ireland, built their dream house (which was also my dream house) on Colm’s family’s remote, rocky farm, and had two more children.