Alex Lake - Copycat

‘Rachel,’ she said. ‘How are you? It’s great to see you.’

‘I’m well. Glad to be back in Barrow.’ Her voice was different too. Fuller, more mature. Less reedy than Sarah remembered. ‘You?’

‘Despite college and medical school, sometimes I feel like I never left! But I like it here.’ Sarah gestured at Kim, who was playing with some wooden trains at a toy table in the corner of the café. ‘It’s a great place to raise kids.’

Rachel’s smile faded for a second; she brushed her stomach with her hand. It was a gesture pregnant women often made, and Sarah wondered whether she was going to tell her she was expecting, but Rachel simply nodded agreement. ‘Where will you be living?’ Sarah said.

‘Gold Street. I rented an apartment there. I’m looking for a place to buy, eventually.’

‘A lot of houses don’t make it on to the market,’ Sarah said. ‘There’s a lot of private sales. Barrow’s become quite a popular place for people to live. Lots of families move back here – good schools, low crime. And there’s the college.’

Barrow was home to Hardy College, a small, liberal arts college which had invested heavily in the town.

‘I know. I spoke to the realtor and she was bemoaning the fact,’ Rachel said. She smiled. ‘But something will come up. It always does. There’s no point worrying.’

‘You sound like my husband, Ben. He always says worry is a dividend paid to disaster before it’s due.’

‘I like it. Where does it come from?’

‘I think it’s from one of the James Bond books. Not exactly Gandhi.’

Rachel laughed. ‘Well, it’s true all the same. Even James Bond has life advice for us.’

‘Anyway,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ll ask around about any houses coming up for sale.’

‘Would you?’ Rachel said. She sounded genuinely touched. ‘That’s so generous. Thank you.’

Kim toddled toward them. ‘Mommy,’ she said. ‘Can I have some water?’

‘Of course.’ Sarah handed her a plastic cup. ‘This is Mommy’s friend, Rachel.’

‘Hi,’ Kim said, her voice muffled by the liquid.

Rachel leaned forward, her hands on her knees. ‘Hello,’ she said, her voice low and soft. She was smiling, and taking time with her movements. ‘Are you Kim?’

Kim nodded, a matching smile on her face.

‘I’m Rachel.’ She held out her hand, palm upward, and Kim placed her hand in it. Rachel gave it a gentle shake. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’

Kim gave a little giggle, then buried her face in Sarah’s hip.

‘I think she likes you,’ Sarah said. ‘She’s come over all bashful. It’s not like her at all. She’s normally all up in people’s faces. It’s the fate of the third child. They have to fight for everything.’

‘I know,’ Rachel said. ‘I was one myself.’

‘Were you?’ Sarah didn’t recall her having siblings, but then she didn’t know much about her home life at all.

‘Yes. The others were older, though. I had two brothers. Brian and Vinnie. Brian was six years older and Vinnie eight.’

‘I don’t remember them.’

‘They weren’t around much. Vinnie went into the army and Brian didn’t really … he kind of kept himself to himself.’

‘So what are you planning to do?’ Sarah said. ‘You’re a therapist, right?’

Rachel nodded. ‘I’m going to do the same here. I’ve not got anything in place yet, but I will.’

‘I might be able to help there, too,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m a doctor. Family medicine, mainly. Let me know when you’re ready and I can put you in touch with some people who might be worth talking to.’

Rachel shook her head, as though disbelieving. ‘You’re so kind,’ she said. ‘So welcoming.’

Sarah felt a little discomfort at her gratitude. ‘It’s a small town,’ she said. ‘Everyone wants to help.’

‘I guess so,’ Rachel said. ‘I guess I’d forgotten Barrow was like that. Makes my decision to come back all the better, I suppose.’

Sunday was forecast to be hot, up in the high eighties and humid with it. It turned out to be even hotter, and in town it felt worse: claustrophobic and suffocating. Along with the rest of the population of Barrow, Sarah and Ben headed to the beach.

It was a thirty-minute drive up the Phippsburg peninsula and by this point in the summer they had the trip down, as Ben would say in one of his incomprehensible British expressions, to a tee. Shovels, kids’ wetsuits, beach chairs, umbrella: all their beach stuff was put in the car in June and remained there until September. The only thing they had to add was dry towels, a cooler full of snacks and drinks and the kids themselves. Which was good, because on a day like this the beach filled up. Anyone who arrived there after around 10 a.m. would be facing a full car park and a return trip to the heat of town.

They pulled up alongside Jean’s battered minivan, the sandy gravel crunching under the tires.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Ben said. ‘I mean, wrangling our kids is hard enough with the two of us. She’s alone. It’s amazing, frankly.’

‘She’s super-organized,’ Sarah said. ‘She has to be. The laundry alone – it’s frightening. She showed me her system for getting it done: each kid has a basket which they put their dirty clothes into. They fold up any that can be worn again and put them away. Immediately after bedtime she puts a load in the washing machine, then puts them on the drying rack before she goes to bed.’

‘There’s the difference,’ Ben said. ‘Her kids don’t throw everything all over the place. She has some discipline . I wish I knew her secret.’

‘I don’t think there’s a secret,’ Sarah said. ‘She’s always busy. Washing clothes or making lunches for the next day or preparing her schoolwork.’

‘It’s impressive.’

‘It’s funny. In high school she was a hot mess. Not that we said “hot mess” back then.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, you know. She didn’t have her shit together.’

That was a bit of an understatement. In their senior year Sarah had a car – a Toyota Corolla – and used to pick up Jean, as well as two other friends, Katie and Emily, on her way to school. Jean was never ready, and, when she did appear, she had invariably forgotten her purse or books or homework, so they’d have to go back for whatever was missing, and then it would be a mad scramble to get to school before the tardy bell made official their lateness. And lateness wasn’t all; she studied for the wrong exams, showed up at the wrong time or not at all for her summer jobs, and lost her purse or bag or ID almost every time they went out.

Her parents didn’t help. They were very strict and very private; whereas Sarah and Katie and Emily’s parents used to chat to the girls or drive them places, Jean’s never did. Often they refused to let her join her friends after school or on the weekends – on one occasion, Jean more or less disappeared for three weeks – but when they asked Jean why she’d been grounded, she shrugged and said her parents thought she was letting them down with her poor performance and she needed to focus more. Jean claimed it didn’t bother her, but Sarah could tell she was putting a brave face on what must have been a deep hurt.

And then she had met Jack. He already had kids; Jean could not have her own – which was another tragic story she managed to cope with – and she always said it was a blessing she met Jack and got a husband and family all at the same time. She didn’t say it, but Sarah was pretty sure she wanted a family so she could put right some of the wrongs of her own childhood.

And Sarah suspected there were plenty more of those than Jean had shared.