Oh, please, Andy! I honestly dont know what to do. Waters pouring everywhere, Im about to flood the neighbours, and you *know* how that dragon downstairs is shell have me thrown out! My hands are shaking I cant even find the stopcock! The womans voice wailing through the phone was so sharp and desperate that Rachel could hear every word from across the dinner table, even though Andy hadnt put her on speaker.
Rachel gently set her fork back onto the porcelain plate. The delicate clink rang out in the homely silence of the kitchen, like the tell-tale start of another round in a battle shed been fighting for the past three years. Across from her, Andy her husband sat, chewing his lip guiltily, glancing from the now-cold casserole to the glowing phone in his hand.
Claire, just calm down, he mumbled. What stopcock? Under the sink, or in the loo? You need to turn off the mains.
I dont know where it is! Andy, please, Im begging you. Im scared! What if its boiling water? Im all alone here, I cant cope!
Andy looked at Rachel, a mixture of pleading and resignation in his eyes that she recognised all too well.
You hear her, Rach? Shell end up soaking everyone. Claires hopeless with this sort of thing, you know that. Like a big kid. Ive got to go over.
Of course, you do, Rachel replied serenely, her voice betraying nothing of the storm inside. Its not as if tonights our anniversary. Or as if wed planned this evening for two weeks. Or that I spent three hours cooking. Go on, Andy. Save Claire. Shed be lost without you.
Oh, dont start, please, Andy said, jumping up and fumbling for his car keys. Weve been friends since primary school. Cant leave her in the lurch. Ill be quick just nip in, swap the washer, and be back. Pop the casserole in the oven, yeah? So it stays warm.
The front door banged shut. Rachel was left in the flat, heavy with the smells of celebratory dinner and an even heavier sense of disappointment. She got up, went to the window, and watched Andys car disappear into the nighttime.
Claire. That name had become a third wheel in her marriage. Old school friend, one of the lads Andy called her all sorts. Shed reappeared out of nowhere after her messy divorce and swiftly made herself part of their routine. At first, it had been little favours: moving boxes, sorting her broadband. Andy, ever the obliging handyman, was only too happy to help.
But as with many things, the requests had grown. Now Claires problems had the force of natural disasters. Flat tyres on the motorway, collapsed bathroom shelves, urgent furniture assembly because my clothes are all over, you know what Im like. And each time, it was when Rachel and Andy had made plans for themselves.
Rachel wasnt the jealous type. She understood loyalty and friendship. But womens intuition told her it wasnt about leaky taps. Claire, with her perfectly styled hair and wounded doe-eyes, played the helpless damsel with an artistry that Andy couldnt resist, broadening his chest at the chance to be her hero.
With no appetite left, Rachel cleared the table and boxed up the food. Andy returned three hours later, filthy, exhausted, but grinning.
Sorted! There was nearly a swimming pool in her place. The trap had blown off. Took a bit to fix had to dash to the twenty-four hour for a washer. Claire was terrified, needed a bit of valerian for her nerves.
At least the hero got a cuppa? Rachel asked, pretending to be absorbed in her book.
She made a pot of tea and baked an apple cake. Asked me to say sorry to you for ruining your evening.
Apple cake? Rachel noted mentally. Odd for someone supposedly neck deep in water, she still had something baking? Convenient.
She held her tongue. It was pointless to kick off an argument Andys default was to accuse her of being cold and jealous. No, shed have to be cleverer. Next time, she wouldnt stay at home. Shed go with Andy to rescue Claire.
And sure enough, the next time came much too quickly. Saturday morning, they were all packed for a weekend in the country. The sun was gorgeous, the car was loaded with barbecue gear, and Rachel was dreaming of a glass of wine on the veranda.
Andys phone rang just as he was putting the last bag in the boot. Rachel recognised the ringtone special, just for Claire.
Claire? Whats sparking? Badly? It smells like burning? Dont touch anything, turn off the switches at the fuseboard! Right. Im coming.
He hung up and looked sheepishly across at Rachel, carrying trays of petunias by the garden gate.
Rach, love, its Claire shes panicking, fuseboards sparking, flat stinks of burning. Shes worried about an electrical fire. You know what the council electricians are like at weekends never show. Cowboys charge a fortune and take forever.
I see, Rachel calmly set the tray down. So, the countryside is off?
No, no, not at all! Well just pop by Claires, Ill have a look. If its bad, Ill ring the emergency, if its minor Ill fix it. Its basically on the way. Only take an hour.
Fine, she nodded. Im coming too.
Andy looked startled.
Why? Youre not an electrician. Stay home, Ill be quick.
No, Andy. Were going to the country. Together. Stopping by Claires, youll sort it, and then we go. Im not waiting around at home. Besides, I havent seen Claire in ages I should say hello.
Seeing he had no argument, Andy gave in. He was tense all the drive, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Rachel sat next to him, cool as snow, though her insides were tied in a knot.
Claire opened the door in a silk dressing gown barely reaching her knees, hair and make-up immaculate. She froze for a split second when she saw Rachel step out of the car, her lips twitching downward. But quickly, she plastered on a dazzling grin.
Rachel! What a surprise! Look at the state Im in, terrified and straight out of bed! she trilled, patting perfectly set curls. Come in, come in. Andy, darling, the fuseboards hissing away!
Inside, there was a faint smell of burnt plastic by the cupboard in the hall. Andy got straight to work, pulling out his screwdriver and circuit tester.
Rach, come and have a coffee in the kitchen while Andy works his magic, Claire cooed, trying to usher Rachel away.
No thanks, Ill stay here. In case Andy needs an extra hand. Hold a torch, pass a tool, that kind of thing.
A torch? Claire giggled, You are funny. Andy could do it blindfolded, couldnt you, Andy?
Andy just grunted, busy with the wires.
Claire, Rachel said quietly, not taking her eyes off her, Have you thought of ringing the management company? Theyve got call-out electricians, even at weekends. This is electrics it can be dangerous.
Oh, goodness, I couldnt! Theyre all so rude! They tramp dirt through your flat and bark orders. Andys different hes like family. Hes got magic hands. I trust him with anything.
Rachels reply was cool: Well, those magic hands were meant for skewering lamb at a barbecue today. We were on our way to the countryside.
Oh, Im hopeless! I ruin everything! Claire clasped her hands together like she was about to say the Lords Prayer. Everything falls to bits when youre single, Rachel, you wouldnt understand. Youre so lucky you have your rock.
In fifteen minutes, Andy had finished tinkering.
Loose contact a bit scorched. Sorted it now, but Claire youll need a new circuit breaker soon. This ones ancient.
Andy, darling, could you pick one up for me? Ill pay you back. And fit it, yeah?
He cant, Rachel answered before Andy could speak. Were off to the countryside, and well be back late. Next weekend were at the theatre. Call an electrician, Claire. Andy will write down the one you need.
Claire shot Rachel a look of undisguised dislike, but turned to Andy.
Not even time for coffee? Ive got your favourite eclairs!
Were full, thank you, Rachel cut in, taking Andys arm. Weve got a full schedule.
Outside, Andy blew out a breath.
Rach, you didnt have to be so blunt. She means well.
Oh, she means well, does she? Andy, open your eyes. That dressing gown, the batting eyelashes all she wants is your attention, nothing more.
Nonsense. We go way back. Im like a brother.
A brother who fixes her electrics, listens to all her woes, feeds her ego. Some brother.
They finally headed to the country, but a chill hung between them. Rachel knew this wasnt over. Claire wouldnt give up easily; she liked having a man on a string.
The finale came two weeks later. Andy was on a work trip, due home Friday night. Rachel was humming away in the kitchen, preparing dinner, excited for his return. The phone rang at six.
Rach, listen Ill be a bit late. Im back in town, but Claires had an accident.
What now? Rachels tone was icy. Has a meteor landed on her balcony?
No she bought a fancy new curtain pole. Tried to put it up herself silly, really and dropped it on her foot. She says her toes swollen, cant walk. Curtain poles blocking the lounge, she cant move it. Wants me to swing by, help her out, maybe nip to the chemist for something. Ill be quick.
Rachel took a deep breath.
Andy, listen. You go home. *Ill* go to Claires.
You? Why?
Because Im a woman, I know what ointment to buy, and I know how to dress a bruised foot. Youre shattered go home, heat the dinner. Ill be at hers in half an hour.
If you insist. Just dont argue with her, yeah? Shes already upset.
Rachel hung up and got to work. Not to play nurse, but to sort things out once and for all.
She found a handyman service online, picked out the bloke with the gruffest reviews. Then a pharmacy delivery for painkillers and a bandage to Claires address.
Then she set off.
Rachel arrived at Claires just as the pharmacy courier was buzzing in. She intercepted the parcel and climbed the stairs. The front door was unlocked Claire mustve left it open for her rescuer.
Inside, candles burned, a bottle of wine and two glasses sat on the coffee table. Claire lay on the sofa in that silk robe, one leg artfully propped up, curtain pole theatrically barricading the lounge.
As Rachel entered, Claire didnt even open her eyes. Andy, that you? Did you get the ointment?
Rachel flipped the light switch. Harsh white light flooded the room, the cosiness vanishing in an instant.
Claire shot upright, instantly forgetting her injured foot.
Rachel?! What are you doing here? Wheres Andy?
Hes at home, having his tea, Rachel said, setting the medicine by the wine. Ive brought the ointment. And some real help.
Real help? Claires eyes darted towards the door, realising her plan was shot. I needed Andy! He knows how to hang the pole!
A professional can do it, Rachel replied.
Just then the intercom went. Rachel went to answer. Up the stairs strode a solid, no-nonsense handyman in overalls.
Someone needs a curtain pole hung? he announced.
Yes, in here, please. The lady will show you where, Rachel replied breezily.
The handyman set straight to work, unpacking his drill.
Right, concrete wall. Ive got anchors for this. Wheres the step ladder?
Claire, crimson-faced, glared death at Rachel.
Youve ruined everything, she hissed between the whine of the drill.
Im just helping, Rachel answered, feigning innocence. You wanted aid heres your man, heres your medicine. Andys busy with his family tonight. Or did you want Andy himself for other reasons?
Claire hopped up, full of rage, her limp all but forgotten.
Oh, get lost! Youre so bloody sanctimonious! Andys bored of you you know nothing of fun!
Maybe, Rachel shrugged. But he goes home to me. Meanwhile, you invent disasters just so you can play damsel to a married man. Isnt it a bit sad? Youre attractive, Claire. Find a single bloke. Stop lurking by other peoples doors.
Out! Claire shrieked.
Gladly. Handymans all paid up. Twenty minutes work. Mind your foot, Claire. You seem to be walking rather well.
Rachel left feeling surprisingly light. She hadnt whinged at Andy, or snatched at Claires hair. Shed just shown everybody the truth.
Back at home, Andy sat with anxious eyes.
Well? Is she badly hurt? She wouldnt answer my calls.
Oh, shell live. Bounced round the flat just fine. The curtain poles being hung by a proper professional I paid.
A handyman? Why? Id have done it myself
Sit, Andy.
He obeyed.
Honestly now did you really not notice what was going on? Candles, wine, always timing breakdowns for when Im away?
Andy blushed deeply, staring at the bread basket.
I suppose I did, deep down. But I didnt want to face it. Weve been mates forever it just felt unkind to say no. Shes so alone, so helpless sometimes.
Helpless? Rachel snorted. Andy, shes been messing you about like a schoolboy. Trying to be good for her, you were letting us down. Did you see? The wine wasnt for the handyman, Andy. She was waiting for *you*.
He nodded, shamefaced. Im a fool.
Maybe but a kind one. And I love you. But from today, thats it: Claire uses the handyman service from now on. If shes lonely, she calls her other mates. Youre not her emergency callout. Agreed?
Agreed, Andy said firmly. Youre right. If Id turned up and seen those candles itd have been ugly.
Claire never called again. Not in a week, not in a month. Her pride or what was left seemed to keep her away from the family whod seen through her.
Six months later, Rachel passed Claire in the shopping centre, arm-in-arm with a well-to-do gentleman, both hands full of designer bags. Claire met Rachels gaze, tossed her head, and swept past as though theyd never met.
Rachel smiled. Good for Claire at last she found someone free to fix taps and put up curtain poles with a clean conscience. And in Rachel and Andys home, there was peace at last no more urgent, world-ending emergencies stealing away their evenings.
Now, they spend their evenings over tea, planning holidays, secure in the knowledge: if they set off for the countryside, theyll make it. Because you must defend the borders of your family even when the intruder puts on her best act of helplessness.
And if youve enjoyed this story, and you agree that even friendship needs boundaries, do leave a like and a follow. Let me know in the comments what would *you* have done in Rachels place?
