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

I was mildly offended. I’d never in my life bored on about the size of the Red Kite Farmhouse scones. They were big, too much for one person, but I was happy enough to let them be.

*

Because it was late in the day, it was easy to get parking—the marauding clusters of Lululemon-clad yummy mummies usually emptied out around three thirty, piling into their Range Rovers to pick up the kids from private school.

Helen was already at a table, studying her phone and looking faintly murderous.

She spotted me and chirped, ‘Oh, Rachel, haai!’

Helen never chirped. Chirping was on her Shovel List.

A rictus smile appeared on her perfect little face and I was picking up a very bad feeling here.

‘Sit down.’ She pointed at the chair opposite her. ‘Got you a mint tea, that’s the right one, is it? And a brownie. Couldn’t chance it with the scones.’

‘So what’s up?’

Her gaze dropped to the table. ‘So look. Artie and I, we’ve been thinking…’

Suddenly I knew what she was going to say.

She met my eyes. ‘We want to have a baby.’

That was what I’d been braced for.

‘I’m sorry, Rachel. I know it’ll upset you and I’m genuinely sorry.’

We were still locked in an endless eye-meet. My face felt hot and the right words wouldn’t come.

‘You’re going to say you’re a big girl and your stuff is your responsibility and all that, but…’

‘It’s true, though,’ I managed.

‘You don’t have to be brave. Not to protect me.’

‘I—’ There were too many emotions lurching around in me, just one big mess.

‘Tell me you hate me,’ she urged.

‘But I don’t. Like, of course I don’t. My ship sailed a long time ago. You have to do your thing—I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t because of me.’

‘Should you eat your brownie? Would the sugar help?’

‘I thought you didn’t want kids.’

‘I didn’t. Then suddenly I did. I thought there was something wrong with me so I went to the doctor. I thought she could give me tablets to make it stop. But she said I was “broody”. Broody!’ she exclaimed. ‘Me! I was impressed by her nerve. Listen, should I have got you a giant scone?’ She scraped back her chair. ‘I’ll get you one now.’

‘Sit down, you eejit. So…ah…where are you at, in the process?’

‘Riding for Ireland.’

‘Lovely…or is it?’ My experience was that having sex according to a timetable took a lot of the enjoyment from it.