by June Taylor
‘I wonder where we’ll be in twenty years’ time,’ said Chrissy, a few hours later during a short lunch break. She was picking paint out of Juliet’s hair, who was lying across her lap. ‘I just hope we’ve got better jobs than this.’
‘Well, you will for certain. You’ll be a high flyer. In London, probably. Married to Dan. Start firing out kids at thirty-three, thirty-four, then back to your career.’
Chrissy considered it for a moment. ‘Yeah, I’d settle for that. And you’ll be some big shot in the fashion world.’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Nah. I’ll be happy with just a little shop in a place like this, making clothes that people come in and love. And buy, obviously.’
‘Do you think you’ll get married, Ju? Do the kids thing? And don’t say you’ll marry that Luca bloke because it’s just so ridiculous.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Suppose I’ll have kids. Doesn’t everyone? Or I could just be part of your extended family.’
Chrissy tugged at Juliet’s matted hair, and said: ‘Tante Juliet.’
‘Don’t! That makes me sound so old.’
‘Right, come on,’ said Chrissy, throwing Juliet off her lap. ‘We need to finish this job before we’re twenty, or neither of us will have a future.’
***
Once the paint job came to an end, Chrissy found work in Frankie’s Ice Palace along the seafront. More of a kiosk than a palace, it was wedged between a long line of restaurants with beautifully laid tables under large white canopies, serving food they could never afford. Juliet sold the remainder of her T-shirts, scarves and small canvas bags to holidaymakers coming on and off the beach, keeping under the radar of any gendarmes on the prowl. In addition, the odd hour of babysitting and English lessons was enough to give them a hand-to-mouth existence.
‘Chrissy,’ whispered Juliet.
It was 4 a.m. and they had just crawled back into their tent from an all-night beach party. Their legs ached from dancing non-stop on sand for nearly six hours.
‘Mm?’ Chrissy was almost asleep.
‘Don’t be angry with me.’
‘Why, what have you done now?’
‘I bought a little something with today’s earnings.’
‘Like what? Oh, you’d better not have, Ju. What did you spend it on?’
‘Some magic beans at the party.’
She sputtered and giggled like a child. Chrissy pulled the sleeping bag over her head. She was too exhausted for this right now. And it wasn’t the first time Juliet had done this either.
***
Their final job was working as femmes de chambre in a tourist-class hotel on Avenue du Général Leclerc: making beds, polishing mirrors, hoovering carpets, and holding their noses as they cleaned out toilets. But as the season was slowly drawing to its close there was a growing sense of the town emptying out. In the mornings when they left for work they would see people packing up their tents, then, in the evenings, all that remained were the faint outlines of where they had been. Increasingly, thoughts of home crept into Chrissy’s mind. Back to Manchester. Dan. Family. Friends. The second year at university. And for Juliet, a fresh start at Bristol Poly.
‘Do we have to go?’ said Juliet, making a sad face when Chrissy suggested they should think about heading back.
‘Can’t stay here forever, Ju. And we’ll be into September soon.’
‘Kind of wish we could.’ Juliet dug her toes into the grey sand as she spoke.
They had no fixed-return coach tickets booked from Paris to aim for but Chrissy had worked out, based on their journey down, that they could be home by the following Saturday teatime, if they were lucky. The long hitch-hike back up to Paris filled her with dread, yet she knew Juliet viewed it differently; it was still part of their big adventure and she was in no hurry to get home, especially as her dad still didn’t know about her changing courses.
Finally, Juliet agreed it was time to leave.
Chrissy called Dan to tell him the good news.
‘Okay, well, ring me when you get to London,’ he shouted, racing to beat the dreaded pips. ‘Let me know what time your coach gets into Manchester and I’ll be there. God, I can’t wait to see you again.’
‘I’ve no coins left, Dan!’
‘Leave a message if I’m not in. See you Saturday.’
‘I will. I love—’
The line went dead.
It was to be a morning departure, to make the most of any long-distance traffic heading for Paris. However, by the time they had shaken off their hangovers, got packed up and said their goodbyes, it was already late afternoon. Four thirty, according to Chrissy’s watch, when they finally headed out of town with their thumbs in the air, the reverse of their cardboard sign saying ‘Paris SVP!’
The sun showed no signs of it being the end of the summer, and their rucksacks seemed heavier than ever. To make matters worse, Chrissy was furious with Juliet for blowing their last bit of money on partying the night before.
‘Well, you helped me spend it. Some of it,’ said Juliet, looking guilty. ‘Great night though.’
‘I didn’t know it was our travel money you were dipping into.’
‘Who cares? It’s just money, Chrissy.’
‘So how the hell are we supposed to eat now?’
Juliet shrugged. ‘Something’ll turn up, always does.’
‘Oh. Like starvation and dehydration, you mean? Well, thanks a lot, Ju.’ She was trying to smile at a man in his car but he shot past them shaking his finger. ‘And how do we pay for another night’s camping?’
‘We’ll do a runner.’
‘I’m not a thief.’
Chrissy’s side of their cardboard sign had drooped and Juliet pushed it up again. ‘Maybe it’s time you did something mad and crazy, Chrissy Plumber.’
An hour later, Juliet apologized. They still didn’t have a lift. Where was the family with the stinking baby? The friendly Spanish truck driver? The fun-loving Italian guys?
Why wasn’t anyone stopping?
Another hour slipped by. They had gone less than two miles up the road and that was by flip-flop. By now it was six thirty and they were beginning to feel hungry. The only thing they had eaten all day was a handful of stale baguette when they eventually crawled out of their sleeping bags.
‘We still friends?’ said Juliet, sheepishly kicking at sand drifted into the kerb. She twisted a strand of hair round her finger. ‘It’s just, you haven’t said anything for a whole two hours now.’
‘Do you even have to ask that?’ Chrissy snapped. But she laughed once she realized how angry that sounded.
Standing by the side of the road in an affectionate make-up hug, they heard a loud horn blast from a truck that was thundering past. All the skidding and screeching seemed to suggest it was actually trying to stop. With whoops and shrieks they grabbed their bags and ran as fast as their flip-flops would allow.
The trucker was eagerly climbing down to greet them. ‘Bonjour, Mesdemoiselles,’ he said. He didn’t sound French.
‘Bonjour,’ said Juliet, her chest panting from the exertion. ‘Vous allez vers Paris?’
‘Mais oui.’
He was already taking her bag off her shoulders and tossing it into his cab, wedging it behind the seat. He did the same with Chrissy’s. They climbed up and, barely inside, the door was pushed against them; the lock button immediately clicked and disappeared. Turning to one another they realized it was too late. His sweaty gut was already behind the wheel.
‘Wiktor,’ he said, giving Juliet a salivary grin.
They presumed that was his name.
‘Erm. Sister Rosa,’ Juliet replied, shuffling into Chrissy, trying to make her shorts stretch further down her legs. ‘And this is Sister Theresa.’ She held onto Chrissy’s hand. Any earlier bad feeling between them was now evaporating into the cab, which reeked of smoke and sweat.
When he saw they were holding hands he winked at them and started up the engine.
‘Where do you t
hink he’s from?’ said Chrissy, squeezing the words out of the side of her mouth just in case he spoke any English.
‘No idea. Weird accent.’
As they pulled away, he took a swig from a bottle of what smelt like whisky. He offered them some, an invitation to join his party. Even if it had been a glass of the coolest iced water, the only fantasy in their heads right now, they would still have said no.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Chrissy, speaking quickly. ‘We’ll get him to stop at the next services. We grab our bags and we leg it.’
CHAPTER 12
Manchester: 2007
‘Bloody hell, Mum. What happened? Did he hurt you?’
‘He was a moron, that’s all. I’m still here, aren’t I?’ She pushed Eloise’s hair out of her face, leaving her hand to rest on her cheek. ‘There’s no hurry for you to know any of this stuff, Eloise.’
Of course there was. Juliet would be here soon and Eloise still hadn’t got to the bottom of what had happened between them.
They took a tram out to Heaton Park. It was a good day for views, far-reaching over central Manchester and beyond. Wisps of cloud stretched lazily across the sky, and Eloise thought back to the times they used to do this as a family. If only her dad was still here, then she wouldn’t be in this mess.
Chrissy walked at her usual brisk pace and every so often Eloise had to break into a jog to keep up. They were heading for the lake. ‘Don’t come where you’re not wanted,’ shouted Chrissy, waving her foot at a dog that seemed keen to join them. ‘We don’t want any uninvited guests, thank you.’
Eloise swallowed, observing her closely as she lay down on the grass. She was gazing up at the sky, one arm across her forehead shielding her eyes from the sun, and when the wind caught her hair Eloise could almost imagine her being nineteen again.
She tossed a stone into the water. ‘How could you be so naive, Mum, with that lorry driver? Is he the reason you and Juliet don’t speak any more?’
‘No. I told you, he was just a moron.’ She sat up, hugging her knees into her chest. ‘Things were very different then; the world wasn’t like it is now.’ She let out a sigh before carrying on. ‘There was no Bank of Mum and Dad to bail us out. No mobile phones, no internet, no social media or 24-hour news. I suppose it gave us a sort of blind trust in people.’
Eloise threw another stone into the water, watching the circles ripple out. Suddenly her mobile pinged, causing them both to jump. She hoped she wasn’t catching her mother’s fear-of-the-phone syndrome.
‘Will come round for 7.
J xxx’
‘Who’s that?’ said Chrissy, trying to look.
‘No one. Just Anya.’
***
Chrissy taught at the School of English near Piccadilly on a Monday, and was usually exhausted when she got in. ‘Salut!’ she shouted, tossing her keys onto the table, kicking off her shoes.
Eloise didn’t want her to get too comfortable. She had to look her best this evening, and her mother would want that too if she knew who was coming. Maybe she had taken the easy way out by not telling her about Juliet. It certainly didn’t feel easy.
Chrissy assured her that she hadn’t forgotten they were going out. Suddenly she noticed how neat the place was. ‘Oh, I get it now,’ she said, pointing her finger. ‘I know what you’re up to.’
Eloise felt herself go weak. ‘Really?’
‘It’s a boy. That’s what all this is about.’
‘No!’ She was grateful on this occasion for the confusion. Her mother was weird about boys at the best of times and Eloise would never dream of bringing one home, even if it was serious. ‘Anya said she might pop round later,’ she splurged. ‘Well, after we get back. But she probably won’t; you know what she’s like. I thought the place could do with a bit of a tidy, that’s all.’
***
‘So. What do we do now?’ said Chrissy, rubbing her thighs in that slightly fidgety way when she was all dressed up.
‘Just waiting for the taxi. You look great, Mum.’
She did look good in her own relaxed style. Eloise had also opted for jeans, like her mother. Plus, vest top, black with white zigzag splashes across the front. Juliet could probably spot a past season a mile off, but it didn’t matter. That wasn’t what tonight was about.
‘Taxi?’ said Chrissy. ‘What’s wrong with the bus?’
‘I got a pay rise.’
‘I don’t want you to blow all your hard-earned cash on me, Eloise. I appreciate you wanting to treat me but—’
As she was speaking, another text message sounded on her phone. It was Eloise who shot into the air.
‘On my way
J xxx’
‘Are you sure you’ve not got a boy coming round?’
Eloise tried to swallow the guilt wedged in her throat. There was no time to dwell on it, however, because the doorbell went through her like an electric shock.
‘I’ll just see if that’s the taxi,’ she said, relieved to see that her mother was in no hurry to get up. She was unusually calm in fact.
‘Take two,’ Juliet whispered. Eloise pulled the door to, so that Chrissy wouldn’t see. ‘Are we all set?’
Juliet looked like she had just stepped out of Vogue magazine. A black leather bag was slung over her shoulder. Soft. Italian-looking. Expensive. On the other shoulder she had a shiny white carrier bag with long black handles and the letter ‘R’ on the side.
Juliet removed her shades and slipped them into her bag.
‘Is it the taxi, Eloise?’
She could feel her mother pulling on the door. She wasn’t ready, not at all. But couldn’t hold onto it.
Chrissy stood with her arms folded, her eyes firmly fixed on Juliet. ‘Go,’ she said, in a tone of voice Eloise didn’t recognize. ‘Leave us alone, Juliet. I don’t know why you’re here.’
Then she turned to Eloise, silently accusing her.
‘Chrissy, I know this is a real shock for you,’ Juliet pleaded. ‘But—’
‘I don’t want to know. Just go.’
‘I want her to stay, Mum.’
‘I’d be quiet if I were you, Eloise. This isn’t about you.’
Eloise hesitated. ‘I think it sort of is now.’
Chrissy thought for a moment, slowly stepping to one side. Her arms were folded solidly and her face remained stern.
It unnerved Eloise to see Juliet looking to her for clues. Surely it was for Juliet to take the lead now; she had played her part.
Perhaps Juliet picked up on that because she moved forwards, stepping cautiously into their poky little flat. A scent of jasmine and musk trailed behind her. Chrissy didn’t take her eyes off her for a second, but Eloise hung back thinking maybe she should leave them to it. Her mother dragged her in and closed the door.
Juliet flinched at the sound of the chain. Like a knife being sharpened, Eloise thought, immediately trying to stop herself from thinking that. ‘Erm, sit down,’ she said, wanting to reassure their guest.
‘She’s not stopping.’
Juliet looked to Eloise once again, but all she got in return was a helpless shrug.
‘Look … Chrissy—’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry for showing up again like this. I really thought it’d be okay. Don’t be hard on Elle. I persuaded her to get involved.’
‘She doesn’t like being called Elle,’ said Chrissy, trampling over her words.
‘Yeah, I don’t,’ Eloise confirmed, almost apologetically. ‘It rhymes with smell.’
‘Oh god, so it does,’ said Juliet, mouthing the word sorry. ‘Look, all I want to do, Chrissy, is say thank you for what you did for me.’
‘You’ve said it. Now you can go.’ She nodded towards the door.
‘Please don’t be like that. All this time I’ve wondered how you are—’
‘You can see I’m fine.’
‘… what you’re doing, who you’re with. I’ve missed you.’ She beamed at Eloise. ‘And you have a very be
autiful daughter.’ Juliet began to rummage in her bag. ‘I wrote you a letter, Chrissy.’ She fished out an envelope that was grubby and creased. Then she fished out another one, more pristine.
Eloise offered to take her bags; she seemed to be struggling.
‘There’s something for you both in that one,’ said Juliet, referring to the shiny white carrier with the letter ‘R’ on the side.
‘Thanks, Juliet.’ Eloise glanced nervously at her mother and took a step back.
She noticed Juliet’s hand was lightly trembling as she held one of the letters out to Chrissy. It was met with a look of disdain, and Juliet cleared her throat, preparing to speak.
‘I wrote this just after you left me in Bristol,’ she began. ‘Of course, I never sent it because I knew you wouldn’t want me to.’ She paused for a reaction, but didn’t get one. ‘I was scared too you know, Chrissy.’
Eloise observed her mother, who was taking in every last detail of Juliet. Like a blind person suddenly able to see her friend for the very first time. She lingered over the cat brooch, then said: ‘It was me they wanted. You know it was.’
‘No!’ said Juliet, stepping in closer, immediately retreating again. ‘That’s just not true. We were both in it together, Chrissy. And still are. I’m here now, aren’t I?’ She held out the newer-looking envelope. ‘This one I wrote last night. Everything I ever wanted to say to you is in these letters. Read them, Chrissy, and tomorrow night I’ll send a car round, we’ll go somewhere special. I’ve arranged to stay on in Manchester, so let’s just enjoy ourselves. Please, Chrissy, for old times’ sake. We don’t even have to talk about any of that stuff. Give me one more night, and then if you really don’t want to have any more to do with me I’ll stay out of your life forever. I promise.’
‘You promised last time, Juliet.’
‘But it’s getting on for twenty years. I wanted to see you. Is that a crime?’
‘Of course it’s a crime!’ Chrissy yelled. ‘Just go. Leave us alone. And you can take these with you.’ She seized the vase of sorry-looking flowers and thrust it towards Juliet. Juliet was so startled she backed away and the vase smashed, scattering fragments of blue glass in all directions.