Of course Josh couldn’t have his precious baby girl christened in the mean streets of Sh epherd’s Bush where we grew up. Instead I started Saturday morning gingerly picking my way through the cobbled back streets of Kensington, which were lined with white stucco houses as grand as fairy-tale castles and small, yappy dogs attached to careworn-looking women being paid minimum wage to pick up their poo. The idea of ever being able to afford to live in one of these houses was certainly a fairy tale for me. It would require Nancy’s godfather to be an eligible bachelor in possession of a vast fortune who fell madly in love with me the second our eyes met over the font. A vicious gust of wind slipped its way up my green Zara dress, which immediately felt too short, too cheap, too bright. Too me. Of course that won’t happen, spat the spiteful voice inside my head. You’re not the girl they marry. Look at the evidence. And there, indeed, was the evidence. I rounded the final corner, coming upon the ancient church Josh and Chloe had chosen for the momentous day. Its tawny stone glowed in the warm morning light, the outside thronged by well- heeled couples. How was it that Josh managed to profess his socialist principles while simultaneously living this life? The fact his wife had a trust fund certainly helped. I slowed my pace to a snail’s, grateful for the excuse granted by my precarious high street heels. I could taste a metallic tinge at the back of my throat, the legacy of last night’s vodka tonics. I discreetly wrapped up the tab of gum that I’d been chewing en route: Mum’s sixth sense for these things was strong, and I was too fragile for a fight. I’d deserved that night out, I reasoned; anyone would need a dose of Dutch courage when this event was coming up. But the truth was that my night out with Lou the week before had broken the seal on my days-old sobriety. And the fact I hadn’t been able to find a time to make a second meeting with Amber since was... Right then, I couldn’t bear to interrogate the reasons. Josh spotted me the second I reached the churchyard. His smile was more appraising than warm as he strode over to kiss me hello. He’s tall and fair, and his well-cut suit emphasized the whole impressive package. In principle at least: to me he just looked like some kind of brutal AI who could turn on the human race at any moment. He leant down to brush his lips against my cheeks. ‘Well done. Twenty whole minutes to go.’ Tiny pinches, the kind that leave no bruises. My brother’s speciality. ‘What a beautiful church,’ I said. ‘Lucky Nancy.’ ‘They don’t really notice though, do they?’ he said, as if I’d meant it literally. His sharp grey eyes didn’t leave my face. ‘How are you?’ he said. ‘We’ve been fretting about you.’ ‘Yeah, no, I’m fine,’ I said, looking away and waving at Chloe. She was grappling with a squirming Nancy, their four-year-old twin sons squabbling around her feet in tiny, matching waistcoats which made them look like very expensive toys. ‘Looks like Chloe could do with some help.’ Mum and Dad both emerged from one of the chattering groups, the four of us converging on Chloe like a SWAT team. As Mum hugged me, I smelt the familiar and complicated cocktail of love and anxiety that was se eping out of her pores. I held on to her a second longer than I normally would have, a wave of guilt swe eping through me at the thought of how late and how messy my Friday night had really been. Dad’s greeting had less undercurrents to it: he didn’t want to have to worry about me unless he was forced to. He was much more willing to believe my bullshit, and the current narrative – sober, apologetic – suited him just fine.
Nancy had calmed in Chloe’s arms: there was something almost unbearably vulnerable about the pudgy outline of her upturned face. ‘Can I hold my goddaughter?’ I asked. ‘Seventeen minutes to go,’ said Josh, making a pantomime of looking at his large chrome watch. ‘You’re not there yet, Rach. Still time for us to reconsider.’ I ignored him, my arms outstretched, and soon felt the soft mush of Nancy’s body meld with my own. The truth was, my emotions had felt dangerously close to the surface ever since I’d seen Amber. When the baby emitted a piercing cry, it was almost a relief to break the moment of connection with her. It felt too intimate somehow. ‘Still in need of some practice!’ said Dad, as I swung Nancy’s wriggling body back to Chloe. ‘You’ll get the hang of it when you have to.’ His baggy grey suit was trying too hard to be casual, with its oversized buttons and patch pockets, and the white shirt underneath it was left open at the neck, exposing a V of suspiciously tanned skin. He was too used to being handsome, the extra power it brought to his already bulging portfolio. He wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. As my eyes flicked away then, I spotted her, a last-minute arrival slipping through the church gate. She was gripping the hand of a lanky man with greying curls, leading him towards the milling crowd. I froze with shock, then knew I had to get away from them. ‘I’m just going to run to the loo,’ I gabbled. ‘I don’t want to need to go when we’re by the font,’ I carried on, my legs carrying me towards the church before any of them had time to r eply. I sat on the closed wooden seat for far longer than I had time for, my heart thumping in my chest. She was here. She was actually here. How could she turn up like this? I could hear people streaming into the church now. They’d be looking for me soon. The first thing I saw as I emerged was the smiling moon of my little sister Sophie’s face. Normally I’d have been thrilled to lay eyes on her, but shock still gripped me like a vice. She grabbed my arm. ‘There you are – I’ve been in here sorting out the orders of service. You’re meant to be at the font!’ ‘Yeah, no. I know that,’ I said. Sophie would be the world’s worst professional poker player. The light in her hazel eyes dimmed as soon as she heard my tone, her round body slumping with disappointment. She wanted so much for me to see the world through her rose- tinted glasses: she literally wore them – glasses at least – round ones, with wire frames, which added to her nerdy cuteness. Life had flowed for Sophie with an ease it never had for me. She was the adored late surprise baby, petted and fought over by all of us. She’d sailed through school, then met a boyfriend she adored at university, who’d put a ring on it by the time she was twenty-five. I could see him now, his head, with its thinning crown of ginger hair, swivelling around from his spot on the front row to seek her out. Toby wasn’t the most exciting choice, but he made her happy. ‘Are you okay, Rachel?’ My eyes roved around the church, my sister’s words no more than background noise. Esther was sat halfway back on the end of a row, the curly- haired man’s hand a long-legged spider that entrapped hers. ‘Esther’s here,’ I said, my eyes still trained on the two of them. Esther was Sophie’s au pair back in the day, at least in part. She didn’t look back at me, but I sensed she was feeling the laser bounce between her shoulder blades. ‘I know!’ said Sophie, smiling as she twisted her head to look over to her. ‘It’s been ages since we saw her. Who do you think the hottie is?’ ‘He looks cre epy to me.’ Disappointment sw ept across her face again. Why was her big sister such a shrew? ‘Alright, he’s not George Clooney,’ conceded Sophie, ‘but... it’s nice if she’s met someone. What is she, nearly forty? It’s not easy at that age.’
Or thirty-one, as it turned out. My sister’s well-intentioned pity added to my spikiness. ‘She’s thirty-five,’ I snapped back. I could pretty much run through all of Esther’s vital statistics if anyone ever needed them. A coroner perhaps. Or a judge. ‘I think it’s really nice that Josh and Chloe invited her.’ ‘Yeah, but do you think it was them that invited her?’ I asked. ‘Yeah, it’s their baby’s christening.’ Josh was glaring at me now, angrily tapping his watch. I felt a stab of loneliness, then steeled myself. I just had to get through the next few hours. In a way, it was a good thing no one was by my side. How would I make sense of any of this to them, when it made absolutely no sense to me? ‘Come on, then,’ I said, setting off down the aisle. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ ‘You’ll be great,’ said Sophie, squeezing my arm. ‘Lucky old Nancy.’ I gave her a grateful smile. It turned out I wasn’t alone: I had my sister. The guests funnelled up the stairs of the predictably chi chi restaurant that Josh and Chloe had picked for the rec eption, their braying confidence amplified in the narrow space. The upstairs function room was festooned with pink balloons, smartly dressed waiting staff handing out flutes of champagne at the door. My primal monkey paw grabbed one before my brain had caught up. Mum’s eyes burned with disappointment. ‘Oh, come on, it’s a celebration!’ I said, the sweet-sour taste hitting the back of my throat in a welcome gush. ‘I want to be able to toast Nancy. I’m her godmother.’ Her face flickered with uncertainty. I took a more measured sip, smiled at her. She was seduced by the normality, I could tell. Her visible relief flooded me with shame. Made me dangerous. ‘Can we have one for my mum, too?’ I said, reaching out a hand towards the silver tray. The waiter holding it was dark-haired, with almond-shaped eyes. ‘She’s the grandmother after all!’ He gave me a languid smile. ‘Sure thing,’ he said, an Aussie uplift to his tone, and I felt a tiny charge. I could chase a high in a dustbin in those days. ‘Cheers, Mum,’ I said, chinking my glass against hers, my high feeling almost real. ‘Cheers, darling,’ she said, giving my glass a tentative tap. ‘Just the one. You know what Amber said. I want you to make sure that you see her next week like you promised.’ The room was filling up rapidly, the hum of conversation almost drowning out her voice. ‘I will, I swear.’ My promises had scarred us both too many times by then: her smile was no more than a thin line drawn by her lips. There was Dad, rounding the top of the stairs. Why had he arrived s eparately from us? My gaze sw ept the room. No sign of Esther. He crossed the space, slipped an arm around Mum’s waspish waist and signalled effortlessly for a drink with his other hand. ‘I thought we’d just paid through the nose to ke ep you sober?’ he said at the exact same moment the good-looking waiter leaned in to hand him his glass. My cheeks flamed red with shame, but he was too professional to let his face register Dad’s comment. Mum touched Dad’s arm as the waiter melted back into the crowd. ‘She’s promised to just have the one. It is a celebration, Nick!’ ‘I’m fine, Dad, just leave it,’ I said, feeling approximately thirteen years old. How was it possible I was into my fourth decade, with my parents paying for therapy and monitoring my booze stats? I might as well have had a maths tutor and a time limit on Facebook. My brother, the golden child, was chinking a champagne flute with a fork now, clearing his throat.
‘Thank you all for coming here to celebrate our beautiful daughter.’ Chloe raised the white-frocked baby a little higher to trigger the admiring coos of the crowd, the twins still glued to her ankles. As she did so, I saw Esther slip into the room and head for the back. Was it my imagination, or did Dad’s eyes narrow, following her progress? ‘She’s truly a blessing. We couldn’t be more proud of her, and she’s only fifteen months old.’ There was a tremor in his voice, a trace of emotion that I rarely saw in my brother, who was so ruthlessly efficient at life that there was little room for glitches. I stood there, frozen between the frosty twin poles of our parents, my shame mounting. Nancy was already making her parents proud at fifteen months: I seemed to be doing the absolute opposite with my thirty-plus years. ‘Thank you to Guy, my best mate since our first year at Trinity.’ Josh had made sure he made it to Cambridge. His ruddy-faced rowing buddy, Guy, was one of his many souvenirs. ‘Do you promise not to teach her how to down pints in a moving punt?’ There was predictable laughter as Guy took a self-d eprecating bow. ‘Thank you to Melissa, who shared a dormitory with Chloe and definitely knows her wickedest secrets!’ I looked towards the humourless Amazonian who’d made little to no effort at all to be friendly when we’d crowded around the font. ‘And finally, to my little sister.’ Josh turned his body towards me and paused for dramatic effect. ‘What is there to say about Rachel? Please don’t teach my baby to sink pints on a punt or – more your style – get shit-faced on cocktails and go home with a lechy waiter.’ The room erupted with guffaws. ‘Only joking, sis, we love you. We know you’re a reformed character.’ I gave a weak smile as Guy turned to give me an ironic grin. He had no idea. ‘Nancy’s lucky to have this motley crew to see her through what we hope will be a charmed life. Will you charge your glasses and drink to – the godparents!’ There was a raindrop of champagne left at the bottom of my glass. If I wanted more – and I did – this was my moment. I slipped away from my parents, holding my flute out to a waitress among a throng of guests, so they wouldn’t be able to see the alcohol cascading into it. ‘So, we look like a couple of prize plonkers.’ It was Guy, pinker than ever, holding his glass aloft to chink against mine. He looked like he’d been cut out of the Millennium party pages at the back of Tatler and glued into a scrapbook, frozen in time by Pritt-Stick. I clinked my glass with his, grateful for an excuse to take a long gulp. ‘I haven’t seen you for donkey’s years, Rachel.’ ‘I think the last time I saw you, you were wearing some particularly stylish red Speedos by the pool in Marbella,’ I said, the champagne emboldening me. ‘Budgie smugglers?’ I took a quick look at his bare left hand. I’d been too distracted by Esther’s presence in the crowd when we’d been stood at the font – besides, he was Josh’s geeky housemate from freshers’ week the last time I’d seen him. The truth was, Guy’s puppyish freshness worked in his favour now. Josh’s other friends seemed cynical and tired, whereas Guy bubbled with fun. Could my godfather fantasy be coming true? Had Josh engineered this – a rare good deed in our flammable relationship? ‘Something like that,’ I said. Guy smiled, his eyes lingering on me with a certain intensity. I liked the way he towered over me, like that he could defeat any predator. ‘Sorry, I’m being remiss,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving a damsel in desperate need of another drink.’ The irony. I froze a second, knowing this was a doorway. Knowing that, when Amber’s gentle insistence had oiled the lock, my sobs had come from somewhere de ep inside. Her face flickered in my mind’s eye, the reams of testimonials – lives saved and transformed – spooling through my already champagne-fuddled mind. I chose the other path.
‘You’re a crushing disappointment,’ I said, handing Guy my flute, letting my gaze linger on him this time. ‘Let’s remedy that, sharpish,’ he said, pushing his way through the crowd in search of help. My heart lurched as he walked away. It felt cataclysmic, like he’d abandoned me in a sea of hostile bodies. It was extraordinary how quickly I’d start to think a man was my saviour. It was such a grim, inevitable reflex. ‘Rachel!’ Her voice was like nails down a blackboard. I’d recognize it blindfolded. I spun around. ‘Hi, Esther,’ I said, monotone. She was wearing a white shift dress, the bare pink flesh of her arms covered in goosebumps. Her wide, nervy smile was painted pink, and a smudge of the lipstick decorated her slightly goofy front teeth. They’d made her look even younger than she was when she lived with us – and she was young then. I could remember her seventeenth birthday, the cake Mum bought, the handmade card from Sophie with the dried flowers painstakingly stuck down. And the flowers – the huge mixed, colourful bunch that Dad brought home ‘from all of us’. I felt my body contract, my champagne glass slick in my clammy hand. Esther dived forward suddenly, planting a sticky kiss on my cheek. ‘How are you, darling?’ Her eyes flicked almost imperc eptibly to my glass. Or maybe she wanted it to be noticeable. My mind went into overdrive – I hadn’t seen her for years. How could she know my family thought I had a problem? Why exactly was she here, back in the heart of our fractured world? ‘Really well,’ I said airily. ‘I’ve just heard I’m going to get a big promotion at work. And it’s such an honour to be Nancy’s godmother.’ I hardened my expression. ‘Mum and Dad are so happy to have their first granddaughter.’ Mum was standing near the bar, elegant as ever in her claret wrap dress. Had she seen us marooned here together? She certainly wasn’t looking in our direction now. ‘I know! Little Nancy. So adorable.’ That goofy grin again, never quite reaching her clear blue eyes. ‘Such an honour to be invited today.’ An internal shudder sw ept through my body. I wanted to ask her who had been the one to ask her, but I didn’t want to hear the lie she’d concoct. ‘Right,’ I said lamely. She gave a little giggle. ‘It’s so nice, still being treated as part of the Appleby clan.’ Dad had appeared alongside Mum now: their bodies looked as stiff as marionettes – I longed for them to put on a better show. I had to get away, but I didn’t want Guy to lose track of me. ‘And who’s the new man?’ I said. ‘I saw how he was looking at you in the church. Is it serious?’ Esther gave another grating giggle. ‘We met online. Time will tell, I suppose.’ She gave a little shrug. Just then, Guy reappeared at my elbow, two champagne glasses held firmly in his meaty paws. ‘And who’s this?’ Esther asked. I dumped my empty glass, grabbed the fresh one and, without taking the time to think through the wisdom of it, grabbed Guy’s free hand with my own. ‘This is Guy,’ I said, letting his name linger significantly, st epping closer to him. ‘Hi,’ he said, awkwardly, no hand free to shake. His palm felt stiff against mine, unyielding. This didn’t feel like the beginning of a love affair. ‘I’m Esther. I was Rachel’s au pair, hard as it is to believe.’ I dropped his hand. ‘Strictly speaking you were Sophie’s au pair,’ I said icily, aware that Guy must be thinking I was more unstable by the second. I took a swig of my drink, aware the room was starting to feel a little blurry around the edges. I should have eaten more than a lone slice of toast for breakfast. Esther didn’t miss a beat. ‘Hard to remember now, when you all made me so welcome! Anyway, lovely to see you, Rachel. Hope we can catch up
properly soon. Good luck with the promotion.’ ‘Bye, Esther,’ I said, forcing a smile entirely for Guy’s benefit. I turned my gaze upwards towards him as soon as she’d retreated. ‘Sorry about that.’ ‘All felt a bit lipsticks at dawn,’ he said, slightly flustered. I took a tiny st ep backwards. ‘She’s a stupid bi—’ I thought better of it. ‘Long story. I won’t bore you with it. Thanks for braving the crowds in search of bubbles.’ Bubbles – it sounded so innocuous. ‘Your wish is my command,’ he said, his smile wolfish now. ‘And I can’t imagine you ever boring me.’ ‘Trust me, I can be very, very boring,’ I said. The one thing that I excelled at back then was flirtation. ‘So, tell me about your promotion,’ he asked. ‘Is that very, very boring? What is it you do, anyway?’ ‘I’m a civil servant. I’m about to move into the foreign office. Lots of international travel.’ I thought of the pile of papers on my desk, the dense type about urban planning. I warmed to my fantasy job. ‘I’ll be pr eparing briefings for the foreign secretary so I’m going to have to have a much higher security clearance.’ ‘Wow, amazing. I’m just another dullard in the City. I wish sometimes I’d done something more meaningful with my life.’ ‘There’s still time,’ I said, allowing my fingers to graze his hand as I raised my glass to my lips. Something complicated crossed his features, but he swiftly wiped it away. ‘Now, tell me, is it appalling form if we get a top-up when our glasses are half full?’ he asked. ‘Terrible,’ I twinkled. For the next few hours I k ept us in a bubble of bubbles, refusing to engage with my family. Josh’s disapproval radiated off him, but all it did was egg me on. Some part of me wanted to live up to all of their worst expectations of me. To prove them right. The fact that Guy and I had started going out for longer and longer fag breaks k ept us out of sight for much of the time, and the discovery of a nook near the loos, complete with comfy velvet sofas, meant we could eventually stage a complete disappearance. ‘This has been really nice,’ he said, slinging his tree trunk of an arm around my shoulders. ‘Getting to know you properly. Not just some little squirt reading Just Seventeen.’ ‘Excuse me,’ I said, leaning into his chest. ‘I’m sure I was reading Proust. I was a teenage genius, I think you’ll find.’ He held my gaze, then kissed me lightly. ‘You’re really fun, aren’t you? Really funny.’ ‘So are you,’ I said, pressing my lips against his, closing my eyes. His kiss felt tentative at first, but it rapidly gathered heat. The room started to spin in the darkness. I snapped open my eyes. His eyes goggled back at me, vertiginously close from this angle. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he said quickly. ‘So, so pretty.’ ‘Thanks,’ I said, entwining our fingers. Something was off, but I k ept pushing the feeling away. I was painfully drunk, painfully disturbed by Esther’s presence. I took another gulp of champagne, leaning towards the ice bucket we’d stolen from behind the bar. ‘How fun are you feeling?’ I said. ‘On a scale from one to ten?’ ‘What do you want me to say?’ he enquired, leaning in. ‘Eleven?’ I shrugged. ‘So, what have you got in mind?’ he asked. Another fork in the road. The hubbub of voices had dropped low next door, the party starting to thin out. It was tea time by now, and people needed to hurry home for children’s bath times and evening engagements. I had no such responsibilities. Was I really going to do this? It seemed I was. I reached into my clutch bag, pulled out my coin purse and extracted it. His face stayed immobile for what felt like forever. ‘Coke?’ I nodded. ‘Here? Really?’ A tide of embarrassment started lapping up my
body, but then I saw a smile spread across his face. ‘I can’t believe you. You’re an outrage!’ ‘Believe,’ I said, untangling myself from him and heading towards the loos. There were some closer to the bar, so the coast was clear. Soon we were jammed in a cubicle in the ladies, the kissing more intense now there was no danger of being seen. ‘Hang on,’ I said, dropping to the ground and shaking a dust of powder over the closed seat. The floor felt damp against my bare knees, an unpleasant tangy stench hitting my nostrils now I was out of reach of the elegant reed diffusers that were placed around the bathroom. Shame threatened to engulf me again, but I concentrated on expertly evening out the two parallel train tracks of cocaine, trying not to think of how close to the limit my trusty Mastercard, doing this holy work, actually was. I skimmed the last crumbs of powder off it, rolled up a note and looked up at Guy. ‘Ladies first,’ he said, and I honked up a line, praying for a bolt of chemical euphoria to swe ep away the despair that was hovering, waiting to pounce. A few seconds later it hit, excitement and energy pulsing through my whole body. Guy’s sandy head was bent over the seat, the cocaine disappearing swiftly up his nose. And then we were kissing in earnest, his hands roving my body, slipping inside my dress. Two fingers trapped one of my nipples, his other hand pushing its way up the exposed flesh of my thigh. Even in the throes of my high, it felt pretty grim and tawdry. I looked up at him, but his face was turned away. ‘I like you,’ I said, squeezing his fingers and looking up at him. ‘I really like you. Can we slow down a second?’ His body slackened against mine, all the energy between us instantly draining away. ‘Rachel...’ I’d got it wrong. Why did I always get it so wrong? ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that...’ ‘No, no. It’s not you.’ He sank heavily onto the seat, stared up at me. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this.’ ‘No, I pushed it,’ I said, desperate to reignite the spark that had suddenly been extinguished. ‘It was stupid of me to bring out drugs. I don’t really do them. I just went to a thirtieth and some girl from school had some—’ He stuck up a hand, waved it in the cramped cubicle. ‘Stop apologizing. I need to be honest with you.’ He was choking on his words now. ‘I’m engaged.’ ‘What?’ ‘I know, I know,’ he said, his hand now wedged in his thick hair, his head bowed. ‘We’ve been having problems. She’s back in New York, but she’s moving here soon and I’m...’ He looked up at me. ‘We’re really going to try to make a go of it.’ He looked so plaintive, like he wanted me to reassure him. To congratulate him, even. The shame hit full force now, almost doubling me over. I wanted to rage at him, but instead I crumpled. Of course he wasn’t single. And even if he had been, my behaviour was hardly
Chapter One of The Rules. A man like him wasn’t a Tinder hook-up. ‘Oh,’ I said, my voice as tiny as the space we were crammed in to. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his hands encasing mine. ‘I’m a total arsehole, I know. It was such a blast seeing you again, and we were having so much fun.’ He smiled at me, forcing eye contact. ‘We really were, weren’t we? I mean, if my situation were different...’ We both knew that was a lie. Suddenly the drink and drugs hit hard, and I lurched backwards. ‘Let’s get you out of here,’ he said, slipping the lock and awkwardly steering me through the cubicle door. I leaned over a sink, retched. I caught a glance of myself in the gilt mirror that ran down the width of the wall. My eye make-up was smudged into inky bruises, my hair tangled into string by our grim clawing.
I looked disgusting. I ran the tap, cupped my hand and slurped back some water. ‘You shouldn’t drink that,’ muttered Guy. I rounded on him. ‘Oh, now you’re worried about my welfare?’ I snarled. ‘Now you’re not trying to pull my underwear down?’ ‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ he said, pink with embarrassment and desperation, fists clenched into tight balls. ‘Let me get you into a cab. It’s the least I can do.’ I stood up, grabbed the lip of the sink to steady myself. ‘Just fuck off. Spare me the chivalry.’ ‘Rachel...’ ‘Get out!’ I was screaming at him now. ‘Get away from me.’ A sob erupted out of me and I doubled over. ‘I’m so fucking stupid...’ He st epped towards me and my arms windmilled outwards, ke eping him at bay. ‘Rachel, I’m going to go and find someone who can help you,’ he said, heading fast for the door. I ran after him, but as I caught hold of a handful of his jacket, I felt the bile rise again in my throat. I lurched back to the sink, a thick fountain of vomit shooting out of my mouth. The door swung behind him and I lurched after his retreating body. ‘Don’t!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t want anyone helping me.’ I’d lost all sense of the place, the corridor rotating like a kaleidoscope as I followed him. The distance had shrunk to nothing, and suddenly I was there, in the room, shocked faces taking in my vomit-flecked dress. All I could focus on was Mum marching towards me. Now I was sitting on the tiled floor of the bathroom, my back leaning against the sinks, willing myself not to vomit. The pity on Sophie’s face was almost worse than Mum’s disgust. ‘God, how many times do we have to go through this?’ Mum said, standing over me. Sophie dropped to her knees, pulling a bottle of water from her handbag. ‘Drink some of this,’ she said, holding it to my parched lips. She put her other arm around my shoulders, rubbed my back. ‘Oh, Rachel, what happened?’ ‘That’s fairly obvious,’ said Mum witheringly, staring down at us on the ground as if we were a pair of squabbling toddlers in a sandpit. ‘Rachel doesn’t know when to stop. She’s in capable.’ ‘Mum...’ said Sophie, her hand still making comforting circles on my back. Who was the big sister here, really? ‘It wasn’t just me!’ I protested. ‘He’s a fucking liar. He...’ ‘What I saw was you throwing yourself at him,’ said Mum. ‘He’s not the one sprawled on the floor of a public toilet...’ Sophie gave her an admonishing stare. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie, I’ve done nothing but baby her. Tough love is all I’ve got left.’ Two high spots of colour were splashed across her angular cheekbones. ‘Today was meant to be a celebration of our family, and you’ve turned it into yet another disaster.’ ‘What, is Esther part of our family now?’ I snarled. The self-righteous blaze in Mum’s eyes started to dim. Was I really going to go there? ‘Do the family who cheat together, stay together – something like that?’ Sophie whipped her hand away, and my shoulder blades ricocheted against the hard surface behind us. ‘Rachel, stop,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘You’re drunk.’ Mum’s hand sprung out, demanding silence. Her jaw was clenched, her expression fierce. My throat dried, my body shrinking backwards. ‘Esther was a very important part of Sophie’s childhood. We opened our home to her, and the fact she’s still part of our lives is a tribute to our family.’ She stood a little taller. ‘Now get yourself up, wash your face and we’ll walk down the back stairs. Thank God there are some.’ I pulled myself up to standing, as obedient as a child. Mum shook her head with disgust. ‘And once you’ve sl ept off the shameful state you’re in, we’ll go back to trying to sort out the sorry chaos of your life.’