Falling to Earth

by Deirdre Palmer

  The phone trilled. Juliet roused herself and conducted the usual search for the handset. Finding it half way up the stairs, hidden in the folds of Rachel’s grass-stained tennis skirt, she continued up the stairs and into her studio, dropping the skirt into the laundry basket as she passed. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hi.’

  Juliet’s stomach lurched. She sank into her chair.

  ‘Don’t cut me off,’ Jonno said.

  ‘I wasn’t going to. What do you want?’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘Jonno, I’m not being like anything. Do you not remember our conversation, the one where I asked you not to phone me any more?’

  She didn’t mean to sound patronising but someone had to be the grown-up here and plainly it wasn’t going to be him.

  ‘Yes, I know, and I’m sorry...’

  Sorry? This man who managed to make a virtue out of never apologising for anything was actually apologising? Juliet nearly laughed out loud. Struggling to control herself, she missed what came next.

  ‘Hang on, what were you saying? I got distracted for a minute.’

  ‘I said I’ve had a humungously awful week and I really need someone to talk to.’ His voice, while not exactly pleading, had a kind of urgency about it.

  Juliet sat up. ‘Jonno, what is it? What’s happened?’

  The words slipped out unbidden. She was sunk now, wasn’t she? So much for determination.

  ‘It’s Lou. We’ve had a major falling out and I could really do with some advice if you could spare the time.’

  ‘Jonno, it’s not a question of time, although I am really busy at the moment. You shouldn’t be asking me for advice. Talk to one of your friends, someone who knows Lou. I can’t get into a long phone conversation with you, I just can’t and it isn’t fair of you to ask. I’m sorry.’

  ‘But that’s just the point. I can’t talk to anyone who knows her. You’ll understand when I tell you. Please?’

  Juliet closed her eyes for a second. This wasn’t Jonno’s usual style at all. He sounded genuinely upset. For one heart-clenching moment she wondered if this ‘major falling out’ could possibly have anything to do with his ridiculous pursuit of her, incomprehensible and fruitless though it had been. No, of course it couldn’t.

  ‘Jonno, whatever’s going on with you and your girlfriend, I’m sorry but I really don’t think I’m the right person and it’s best I don’t get involved. I’m certainly no expert on relationships - I’m not Marjorie Proops.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Marjorie... oh, never mind. So you and Lou have had an argument? Well, I hate to bring this up but you didn’t exactly give me the impression the pair of you were love’s young dream personified, so perhaps it’s just meant to be.’

  ‘No, it’s not like that. It’s more than an argument. It’s complicated. That’s why I need your advice.’

  Juliet changed the phone to the other ear. It was no good - he wasn’t going to give up. Besides, although she could hardly bear to admit it, she was the tiniest bit flattered that he’d turned to her.

  She sighed. ‘Go on then. Tell me all about it, but I can’t promise I’ll have anything useful to offer.’

  ‘Not on the phone. Come over. You know the house. I’m flat two.’

  ‘Oh no, Jonno, I can’t...’

  ‘I need to see you Juliet, face to face. I’ll come to you then. Fifteen minutes?’

  ‘No!’

  Juliet felt hot all over. A dozen reasons why she mustn’t let him come to the house and even more as to why she mustn’t go to his flat poured through her brain – and straight out again like water through a sieve. She was overreacting. She’d repelled his attempts at striking up a friendship but they weren’t strangers either, which made them something in between - casual acquaintances she supposed was the term. And now Jonno needed a sympathetic ear, a female perspective perhaps – all right, a more mature female perspective - and that’s all there was to it. It was merely some inner hormonal trickery that had conned her brain into travelling an altogether different route and sent her into a panic. Under the circumstances, it would be heartless to refuse, wouldn’t it?

  ‘All right, I’ll come but I can’t be long.’

  Now she had the chance to look at it properly, the tall, cream house at the end of Regency Crescent was even grander than it had first appeared. Swags and scrolls festooned the facade like icing on a royal wedding cake and Italianate columns topped off with ammonites stood guard on either side of the heavy, black-painted front door. A balcony ran round the building at first floor level like a strip of black lace and continued the whole length of the crescent.

  Juliet leaned against one of the columns and caught her breath before pressing flat two’s bell, hoping her face didn’t look too red after her sprint through the streets from where she’d parked. Not that it mattered what she looked like.

  It was just after two. As long as she was back by four when Rachel got home it would be fine. Weak as dishwater she may be but she’d always wanted to see inside one of these houses, although it would have been better to have done so under less strained circumstances.

  As soon as the door opened and she found herself face to face with Jonno she knew it had been a mistake to come. She could hardly cut and run now, though, could she? She would just have to make this as brief as possible, offer a few words of friendly advice if inspiration struck, then leave. Above all, she must detach herself emotionally from Jonno’s problems – she couldn’t afford not to.

  A church-like hush suffused the black-and-white floored vestibule from which a marble staircase rose and curved before disappearing into the upper reaches. She looked about, half expecting a servant to pop out from behind a green baize door and offer to take her jacket. The vision of a squalid bed-sit under the eaves dissolved.

  ‘I’ve had to park miles away,’ she said, in a deliberately brisk tone, as she followed Jonno up the stairs.

  He turned round and grinned. ‘You would. I’m glad you came, anyway.’

  Once inside, with the door closed behind them, Juliet felt suddenly shy. Jonno, on the other hand, seemed exactly the same as usual, his features entirely untroubled by any signs of anguish, and again she felt a sense of impending doom. She followed him dumbly along the hallway, at the end of which he flung back a pair of double doors and she found herself standing in the middle of about an acre of turquoise carpet.

  ‘Oh, what a fabulous room!’

  Three floor-to-ceiling windows afforded an almost uninterrupted view of beach, sea and sky. Uncluttered by curtains, they had what looked like the original shutters folded into the casements. The cornices were obviously original too, as were the ceiling roses from which a pair of contemporary chandeliers hung. The butter yellow walls were bare apart from a large modern canvas over an imposing veined-marble fireplace and another above an antique walnut desk. Two dove-grey sofas stood at right angles to the fireplace, a walnut table beside one of them holding a stack of hardbacks, the top one of which bore the lugubrious title: Medieval Instruments of Torture.

  ‘It’s beautiful, and so...’

  Jonno grinned. ‘Cool?’

  Juliet giggled, forgetting her nerves. ‘Unexpected, I was going to say. Very grown up. Not like you at all.’

  It was Jonno’s turn to laugh. ‘I am out of short trousers.’ Only just, Juliet thought. ‘I inherited the place from my grandfather. It took the devil of a restoration job. The walls were peeling with damp, the ceiling mouldings had virtually disappeared under about fifty layers of paint and most of the floorboards were rotten.’ He indicated a leather chair by the window, its sunken, battered appearance obviously due to years of comfortable use and not to any factory faux-ageing process. ‘That was my grandfather’s. I keep it to remind me to be grateful to the old boy. Tea?’

  The question brought Juliet swiftly back to reality. Just for a minute there she’d dropped her guard.

  ‘No, thanks. As I said, I haven’t got long, so if we c
ould just get on with it?’

  Too late, she realised the ambiguity of her words as Jonno arranged his expression into one of pretend delight and she managed, just, to smother a smile.

  ‘The kettle’s already on. Make yourself comfy and I’ll bring it in.’

  ‘No, it’s all right. I’ll come with you.’

  For some reason she didn’t want to be left in here on her own, waiting.

  ‘I am glad you came,’ Jonno said, taking two Denby mugs from an impossibly tall cupboard.

  ‘So you said, not that you left me much choice.’

  Juliet leaned stiffly against the slate counter. If only he would just tell her what it was he wanted to talk to her about. All this build-up was making her nervous again. She could sense his eyes on her as she searched the room for something to look at other than him. One wall held a haphazard display of photos, some in clip-frames, others just pinned up. They were all of free-runners in various stages of movement, caught mid-leap, landing on haunches, or with feet clamped to walls, like Spiderman. She recognised some of the locations, including the South Bank, and the Royal Festival Hall. A group of photos arranged roughly in sequence caught her particular attention. ‘This is Brighton, isn’t it?’

  ‘The marina, last summer. We set up a kind of gym – you see?’ He pointed to some large blocks with holes through them which were linked by a complex arrangement of bridges and steps. ‘We did a demo to music, then we gave some impromptu lessons and let people have a go. The kids loved it. We’re doing it again this September, in the square outside the Jubilee Library.’

  Juliet examined the photos more closely. The six or so traceurs had been caught on camera to perfection. With their gracefully arched bodies, implausibly stretched limbs and delicately placed feet they reminded her of ballet dancers rather than athletes. They wore matching red T-shirts with short names printed on – Ben, Taz, Jac.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Taking the pictures. Here you go.’

  As Juliet took her tea from Jonno, something caught her eye. One of her business cards lay on top of a shuffle of other cards and correspondence. He must have taken it from the box in her studio when he brought the plant. That was how he got her number. She let it go without comment – there were more immediate issues at stake now.

  Back in the sitting room, she joined Jonno on one of the sofas, at a discreet distance – it seemed unfriendly to choose the other as it seemed so far away. She glanced surreptitiously at her watch.

  ‘Come on then. Tell me what’s happened.’

  Jonno emitted a theatrical sigh. ‘This week has been terrible. We’ve done nothing but argue.’

  ‘Yes, you said. But what about and where is Lou now?’ Juliet glanced towards the door. That was something she hadn’t considered, the likelihood of Jonno’s girlfriend putting in an appearance. She lived here, after all, presumably. She hoped she wasn’t about to witness an impromptu re-run of one of their quarrels. That would be so embarrassing.

  ‘London. Run off back to her precious friends, like she always does.’ Jonno waved a dismissive arm.

  ‘Well, perhaps that’s not so surprising. You needed someone to talk to who wasn’t directly involved and I expect she did too.’

  She was making it up as she went along now. Well, there wasn’t a lot to go on so far, was there?

  Jonno looked at the carpet, then back at Juliet.

  ‘She’s pregnant.’

  ‘Lou?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Juliet’s emotions scattered in a most unnerving way, almost as if she minded, quite irrationally, that Jonno’s girlfriend was expecting his baby. She reined them in again, corralling them in the nether reaches of her brain. ‘An accident, presumably.’

  Jonno nodded.

  Why had she used that word accident? It wasn’t a word that should be associated with the creation of human life - she thought that every time she heard it – and normally she wouldn’t dream of saying it herself, but what was normal about today?

  Her mind had spun off at a tangent now and all she could think of was Charlton’s face when she’d delivered the news of her pregnancy, the fleeting but unmistakeable expression of dismay that she might have missed had she not been looking for it, that life-changing split second of knowledge and recognition that came just before the breaking open of smiles and champagne. She swallowed hard and made herself focus on the present. This wasn’t about her. It was about Jonno and his dilemma, although precisely what that was she had yet to ascertain.

  ‘It must have been a shock, I can see that, but is it necessarily a problem?’

  Jonno snorted. ‘Apparently it is.’

  Even more puzzling. ‘How long have you known? About the pregnancy, I mean.’

  ‘A couple of weeks. She told me as soon as she found out, and what she’d decided to do about it. I thought she was just panicking, that she’d change her mind, but she won’t, no matter what I say.’

  ‘Change her mind about what exactly?’

  At last she had an idea where this was heading but she needed him to spell it out.

  ‘Getting rid of it.’ Jonno flinched at the bluntness of his own words.

  ‘Oh, Jonno.’

  Juliet’s hand automatically found Jonno’s arm. Immediately he took hold of it. ‘It doesn’t seem to matter what I want. It’s my child, my flesh and blood! How can she even consider not having it? How can she deny me the right to be a father?’

  He looked questioningly at Juliet, as if she had the answer – as if she had the answer to anything.

  ‘She must have said why, surely?’

  ‘Oh yes, she trotted out all the usual stuff about being too young, not having done anything with her life, it’s her body, the whole crappy cliché.’

  Juliet thought for a moment. ‘And you’ve explained how you feel about it, how you really want this child and you’re prepared to play a proper part in its upbringing and all the rest of it?’

  ‘Yes, I told her all that, because it’s true, but it didn’t make any difference.’

  ‘And what else did you say? All right, so you want her to have the baby, but what else?’

  Jonno frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ Juliet said patiently, ‘Do you want Lou herself as well as the baby? Do you love her, enough to make a family with her? Enough to marry her, even?’

  A startled expression appeared on Jonno’s face, as if he hadn’t even considered it.

  ‘But surely you talked about the two of you, your relationship? It wasn’t just about the baby?’

  ‘No, we didn’t talk about us. It was just about the baby – isn’t that enough?’

  He looked so forlorn that Juliet put her arm round him. Immediately he sank against her, his head on her shoulder.

  After a moment, she said: ‘Are you in love with Lou?’

  He sat up. ‘I’m not sure. I think I was at first but perhaps not now, perhaps not even then. She’s certainly not in love with me. Never was.’ This bald statement contained no trace of regret.

  ‘Oh. Are you sure?’

  ‘Lou sees me as something of a meal ticket. I make no demands on her, she can come and go as she pleases and because I put a roof over her head she doesn’t need to get on with finding a proper job. She can just faff about while she waits to knock Kate Moss off her perch, although I have to say I see no signs of that happening so far.’

  Jonno gave a rueful smile and Juliet exhaled with relief at the return of a little lightness to the conversation. It wasn’t that she didn’t sympathise – how could she not, with a baby at stake? – but she couldn’t see how she could help. She thought of Karina’s assistant, whose boyfriend wanted her to have a termination, but as the situation was the complete reverse of this one it wasn’t much help. She had no personal experience to draw on, thank goodness - there’d never been any question of her not having Rachel. A shudder ran through her.

  ‘Juliet, sweetheart, are you all right?’ Jonno’s voice wa
s full of concern. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

  ‘Yes, I’m all right. I was just thinking, that’s all. If Lou’s only just found out she’s pregnant she’ll be all over the place. It’s a traumatic time for a woman. Give her the space she needs, let her dwell on it for a while and you might just find she changes her mind. If she’s only a few weeks gone there’s still time, medically speaking.’

  ‘I know, but she’s made it perfectly plain she has no intention of having this baby. Thank you for saying it, though.’ He smiled right into her eyes. She looked down at her feet.

  ‘You still have to try, Jonno. Give her a couple of days more breathing space then call her, see if you can persuade her to talk. I know it’s hard but she does have a right to an opinion and if she thinks she has a valid reason for ... well, that might be something you have to face up to.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, look, I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m lecturing you but I don’t know what else to say. I just wish I could say something that would help but I can’t. It’s not a situation I’ve had any experience of.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. You are helping just by being here. I feel a bit better now I’ve told you.’

  ‘That’s good then.’

  Juliet smiled, wondering how to draw the topic to a close without seeming churlish. Really it had been a waste of time. He would have been far better off talking to one of his mates, someone nearer his age, but if he had taken some comfort from her being here then she must have been of some use.

  He was looking at her now in that intense way of his. She stood up and went to the window. ‘The sea looks amazing from here. This has to be one of the best views in Brighton.’

  Jonno didn’t reply. Instead he bounced off the sofa, landed by her side and enveloped her in a bear hug but it felt a matey kind of hug so that was all right. Poor Jonno. For all his bravado he was as insecure as the rest of them, wasn’t he?

  She really must go soon. It felt good, though, peaceful, being in this quiet, beautiful room, gazing at the sea with Jonno’s arms still around her, but loosely now, and knowing she could break free at any time made it perfectly ordinary and acceptable. She looked up at him, about to say she had to go, but his eyes seemed to silence her as pulled her closer and bent his head towards hers.