Then and Always by Dani Atkins Read Free Book Online

terrified there was something seriously wrong with me.
    I got to my feet and was pleased to find that I didn’t feel nearly as shaky as I had before and my vision was no longer blurred. I rinsed my hands under cool water and then carefully saturated and squeezed out one of the small folded flannel towels from the basket beside the basins and pressed thewadded cloth against my forehead. I was on the point of returning to the others when the door of the cloakroom swung open and Cathy walked in.
    “Everything okay?” she asked, and though she’d used the right words, the tone was all wrong. Or perhaps it was just that her eyes held zero interest in my response. When had Cathy become so hard? Sure, there had always been an abrasive side to her, but we’d still been friends. What had I done to her to warrant this attitude? If anything, she should be grateful. It was clear she had always been interested in Matt, so I’d have thought she’d have been pleased that I’d voluntarily taken myself out of the picture. And besides, that was all years ago. Teenage stuff. Surely we were beyond all that now?
    “I’m fine. Just a little tired, it’s been a hectic week at work,” I lied.
    “Sorry, what did you say you do again?” Nice to know she’d been paying attention when I’d been talking about it earlier.
    “I’m a secretary.”
    “Oh, yes. Never did get to go into journalism then? That
was
what you were going to do, wasn’t it?”
    Bitch. How could she be so thoughtless? She knew only too well why and how my plans for that particular life had been cut short and how I’d never been able to go to university as I’d intended.
    “No.” I hoped my voice sounded less venomous than it did in my head. “Obviously everything changed after …”
    She nodded, and may have looked just the smallest bit shamefaced for the clumsy way she had forced the topic in a difficult direction. But just when I thought she might be displaying a modicum of compassion, it was lost as she made a great show of brushing back her blond mane from her immaculateface and leaning closer to the mirror as though scrutinizing for imperfections. There were none; I could have told her that. Whatever she saw, be it her own perfect reflection or my own scar-damaged one, the malice seemed to instantly dissipate. Deciding that there was no competition to be feared here, she turned and gave me an artless smile.
    “I hope you won’t take offense, Rachel, but have you ever thought of seeing if something could be done about your face? You used to be such a pretty girl.”
    For a wicked moment I considered playing dumb and innocently asking, “My face? Why? Is there something wrong with it?” But I didn’t. And anyway, as much as I was unhappy with the way I looked, I had no intention of visiting any plastic surgeon she was about to recommend to me. And I’d be crazy if I expected the shallow and unthinking person Cathy seemed to have become to understand that the problem wasn’t that nothing
could
be done, but more that I didn’t feel I
deserved
to have things improved. Certainly my father and Sarah, who had both raised this topic years before (with a great deal more tact and diplomacy), had been unable to comprehend what they saw as my martyr logic.
    Fortunately, the door of the cloakroom swung open then to herald Sarah’s arrival. There was an urgency about her entrance that was almost comical. She swept the pair of us with a knowing look and I knew she had instantly assessed what was going on. I recognized a look on her face from many an altercation in our past, and shook my head almost imperceptibly. Reluctantly, the fire in her gaze was doused. I suspected she’d been looking forward to saying something to Cathy that definitely should remain unsaid.
    “Have we moved my party in here then, girls?” she breezed, joining us at the mirror and linking her arm through mine inan obvious display of solidarity. Cathy was insensitive, but not entirely