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They didn’t attempt to talk over the din of the machine grinding beans. When it finally issued its last hiss and the final drop of coffee hit the froth, Rachel took a deep breath and said, ‘Dad. I’ve left Michael.’
He stopped and then spun round towards her. His eyes were wide, and he emitted a slightly camp gasp of shock. ‘You’ve—’
‘Yes. Last night. Late last night. We, uh, we had a big fight. Things have been bad for ages. Things have been bad since the honeymoon, Dad. I mean really bad. There’s so much—’ She stopped and brought herself back to an even keel. Then she began again. ‘So much has happened, Dad, that I haven’t told you about. Michael lost all his money.’
‘What!’
‘Yes. I know. He’s lost everything. I’ve been supporting us financially. And he’s – well, he’s shown me a darker side of himself.’
‘Oh my God, he hasn’t hurt you, has he?’
‘No, Dad. Nothing like that.’ She felt the sore spot on her neck burn hotter with the lie. ‘No. But I sometimes felt like maybe he would. And I’m done, Dad. And I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry I made you spend all that money on the wedding. And I’m so sorry that I am such a loser. That I make such shit choices all the time, that I am fucking thirty-three and I don’t own anything and that you have to keep propping me up and bailing me out and that I can’t even make a marriage last for longer than two months.’ She sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘And I’m sorry that I’m all you’ve got. You deserve better than me, Dad, you really, really do. I’m so sorry.’
‘Oh my God. Rachel. Oh, no. No! Never say that. Please. You are the single best and most remarkable thing in my life. You always have been and you always will be and there is nothing you could do or not do that would ever make me feel differently. Nothing.’
‘But I feel such a fool, Dad. That wedding. All that fuss. All that money. All those people thinking that I knew what I was doing. When I didn’t, Dad. I didn’t. I married a prick, a stupid, arrogant, narcissistic prick and I fell for all his bullshit like a prize idiot when the red flags were there all along. It’s not like we don’t know about men like him. It’s not like there aren’t a thousand TV shows, a thousand novels, a thousand news stories every day about women being groomed and gaslighted by abusive men. Yet still, Dad,still.’
‘If it makes you feel any better, my darling, he completely hoodwinked me too. I thought he was wonderful.’
‘Well, he’s not wonderful. He’s a dick. A spineless, disgusting, pathetic little dick.’
‘Well, you live and learn, darling.’ He leaned towards her and wrapped his hands around hers. ‘At least he hasn’t hurt you.’
She snatched her hands back. ‘Yes,’ she said, too fast.
‘Has he?’
‘No, Dad, I told you. No. But it felt like he might. And the whole thing was just getting more and more toxic, and it was time to go.’
‘Will you be instigating a divorce?’
‘Yes. Yes, I will. I’ve asked Dom to send me the details of her friend. She’s one of the best divorce lawyers in London.’
‘I’ll pay, darling. You know that. Whatever it takes to get you out of this mess. You don’t need to worry about that.’
She took his hands back in hers and caressed them. ‘Thanks, Dad. Thank you.’
And then for a while they talked about Liberty, about the contract, about the range they wanted her to design for them: twelve rings, ten necklaces, ten bracelets, twenty earrings.
As they spoke her father looked at her seriously. ‘Rachel,’ he said. ‘Whatever you do, do not let Michael know about this new venture. Let him still believe that you are struggling. That you need him more than he needs you. Do not let that man get his nose anywhere near sniffing distance of your imminent success. Because that will be your escape route, my darling, from this awful man: your business. Your talent. Your …je ne sais quoi…’
She stared at him for a moment and then she smiled and frominside the smile a laugh exploded, so hard and unexpected that it made her father jump.
‘Je ne sais quoi!’ she reiterated in a silly accent. ‘Ha!’
And she knew then that she would never tell anyone what had happened the previous night on Michael’s sofa. Never. She would take it to her grave. Because she was Rachel Gold and Rachel Gold did not get raped. Shedid notget raped. She would strike this from her personal history: the marriage, the man, the rape, all of it. She would erase it and start over again.
