Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological drama with twists you won’t see coming

by June Taylor

  At least, she thought she had.

  Realizing she was without a towel, as soon as she stepped out of the pool she felt exposed in her bikini, leaving a watery trail behind her.

  ‘Ciao,’ said the voice again.

  Eloise froze.

  It seemed to come from the bushes.

  Black hair, messy, lots of it falling over his face. That was what she noticed first about him. Then big brown eyes, long eyelashes. He was tall, much taller than she was, seemed friendly enough although he didn’t smile. Older, but she couldn’t tell by how much. He was pruning the branches of some prickly looking shrub.

  ‘You didn’t do the whole thing underwater,’ he said in an accent she couldn’t quite place.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she replied, wishing her response had been cleverer than that.

  ‘We will have a race; see who wins.’

  ‘What? I don’t even know who you are.’

  ‘Mi chiamo Nic. Or Nico.’

  He offered her his hand. It was tanned, like the rest of him, smooth and strong-looking. She stared at it for a moment, concluding it would be rude not to shake it and that he must work here.

  ‘Eloise. Mi chi—?’

  ‘Mi chiamo—’

  ‘Mi chiamo Eloise.’

  It was a firm handshake. Electric. Made her feel even more exposed, and she placed one arm across her chest in an attempt to cover herself. When he started to remove his T-shirt she panicked, wondering what to do, but then a sense of relief as he ran towards the pool. Without thinking, she took a flying dive at the water and they touched the tiles almost together at the other end.

  He climbed out, lowering his hand down to her. ‘Not bad,’ he said, hoisting her up.

  ‘Er, I won that, I think you’ll find.’ She was far more out of breath than he was, made worse by the fact that she was trying to disguise it.

  ‘Penso di no. I think not.’

  ‘Penso di yes. And you cheated.’

  ‘Non è possibile.’

  He put his T-shirt back on, the drips from his hair making wet marks over his shoulders. ‘A presto,’ he said, walking away.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I look after the horses,’ he shouted, without turning back.

  Eloise smiled to herself watching him go. Maybe she didn’t wish Anya was here after all.

  ***

  Juliet rustled up a salade niçoise in the evening. ‘When in Rome,’ she joked.

  ‘Juliet, what does “a presto” mean in Italian?’

  ‘It means “see you later” or “see you soon”.’

  Eloise flushed, and missed most of what Juliet said next, something about the outdoor pizza oven and Luca. They ate supper out on the terrace to the sound of cicadas in the background. It was easy to get accustomed to this slower pace of life after the frenzy of Rome, and there was no obligation to discuss the following day’s itinerary.

  A grunting noise began to perplex them.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ said Eloise.

  ‘Could be wild boar,’ Juliet suggested.

  ‘Sounds like you in the tent, Ju: “Attention tout le monde! Juliet est en train de lâcher les gaz”.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘Juliet used to make the air a little fragrant sometimes, shall we say?’

  ‘Mum!’

  Juliet seemed way too sophisticated for that, but it was pleasing to see the two of them laughing together, and Juliet’s only protest was to flick water at Chrissy who then flicked some back. When they calmed down again, Juliet said, ‘Jeez, our diet was appalling that summer. I think I went home with scurvy. What about you?’

  Chrissy pushed away her plate and folded her arms on the table. ‘I think scurvy was the least of my worries, don’t you?’ They were staring at each other, rewinding through time together, nineteen again, wondering where all the years had gone in between.

  ‘It was an accident, Mum.’

  Another loud grunting came from the field.

  ‘Juliet, really!’ said Eloise, which prompted Juliet to throw a wine cork at her. Eloise took it upon herself to refill their glasses, saying: ‘Hey, tell us some more about your life, Juliet. It sounds so amazing.’

  She seemed to need Chrissy’s approval first.

  ‘Go ahead,’ said Chrissy. ‘I’d really like to hear.’

  ‘What is it you want to know exactly?’

  ‘What’s it like being friends with all those famous people?’ asked Eloise.

  Juliet had gulped her wine too quickly and started to cough. ‘Hardly friends. And they’re just the same as you and I really. Although …’ – she had to clear her throat again – ‘admittedly, some of them can be quite tricky, particularly when it comes to their clothes.’ Half-covering her mouth she whispered: ‘You wouldn’t want some of them as your friends, believe me.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid I can’t say, Eloise, or I’d have to kill you. I mean … not literally, obviously. Sorry. Sorry, Chrissy.’ She had got herself in a fluster, but recovered from it soon enough. ‘Confidentiality is a big part of my job. I’m good at keeping my mouth shut.’ Her eyes landed on Chrissy as she said it.

  ‘You get to travel the world,’ said Eloise. ‘That must be fantastic.’

  Juliet sat back, pensively stroking the stem of her glass. ‘My whole life I’ve never had anywhere to call home.’ Then she pulled a cigarette out of her bag, flicking up her lighter. It took a few attempts. ‘Isn’t this boring?’ she asked.

  ‘How can you say that?’ said Eloise, but she realized it could have been for Chrissy’s benefit.

  ‘All I ever wanted was a small clothes shop to sell my stuff in. I never meant for it to get so big.’ Juliet sounded defensive all of a sudden. She took a sip of wine, delayed swallowing it whilst she focused on Chrissy, and then said: ‘Anyway, I think you’re the one who’s lucky.’

  ‘Me? Why the hell am I lucky? How do you get to that?’

  ‘Because you have Eloise.’

  Chrissy flushed, giving Eloise’s hand a squeeze. Eloise wasn’t offended. If anything, she was pleased that Juliet herself had said these words because Chrissy might actually start to believe them. They each drifted into their own private thoughts after that, and Eloise began to wonder if their worlds had grown too far apart for them to be as close as they used to be. Perhaps the most she dared hope for was that Chrissy might have someone else in her life who knew about her past, someone to replace her dad. This could only be Juliet. As far she knew there was no one else. Eloise just needed to ensure that Juliet was here to stay. As a friend, a good friend, even if it wasn’t a best friend. And then she would be free to do all the things she wanted to do, without worrying about her mother any more. The conversation turned to their university days, and for a brief moment the two women seemed like two regular friends catching up. Eloise thought she would leave them to it.

  ‘I’m going for a walk.’

  ‘Well, don’t go far,’ said Chrissy. ‘It’s getting late.’

  The oncoming darkness was beginning to draw the heat out of the day. Eloise understood now why there were torches in all the bedside drawers. The only light to assist her was coming from one of the other villas up ahead. She saw a couple sitting out on their terrace drinking wine and smiled at them as she passed.

  This place was even bigger than she imagined. She carried on towards the field where Marianna said the horses liked to graze. There weren’t any at this hour so she headed for the stables, where she supposed they would be for the night. The smell of horses led her to believe she was going in the right direction. As she neared the main house, suddenly a light flickered on and she saw someone come out. Retreating slightly, she heard a voice coming from behind her, causing her to stumble backwards.

  ‘Ah!’

  It was Nico.

  ‘The girl from the swimming pool. Buonasera.’ He shone a torch into her face, dazzling her. ‘Scusa,’ he said, pointing it downwards.
<
br />   ‘I was just taking a walk and—’

  ‘Sure, va bene. We allow that. French Fry is sick.’

  ‘Sorry?’ She thought she had misheard, or maybe he had got his words wrong.

  ‘French Fry. He’s a horse. He was sick today.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I think he’s okay now. We will get the vet to him tomorrow. Are you – how do you say – relaxed?’

  He spoke quickly, and Eloise was still getting used to his accent. His English was good, all the same, if a little quirky. ‘Oh yes. It’s so amazing here. The view’s awesome.’ She curled her tongue back inside her mouth. Referring to the view when they couldn’t see a thing was ridiculous.

  ‘Ma certo.’

  He didn’t translate, and they stood in silence after that. The longer it went on the harder it became to think of anything else to talk about, and he seemed to be leaving it to her. He was leaning against the wall, one arm outstretched above his shoulder. And he was very close.

  Was he challenging her?

  She reckoned he was a couple of years older; maybe she felt intimidated by that. In the end all she could think of was, ‘Well, buonasera.’ But as she turned to go he caught her by the arm. It seemed strange to see his hand on her skin; white, where his fingers were pressing into it.

  ‘You want me to walk with you?’ He removed it then. ‘Many people get lost la prima notte. The first night.’

  ‘Yes, I can see why. Think I’ll be okay.’

  ‘Ecco.’ He handed her his torch. ‘I don’t need it.’

  ‘Oh, er, grazie.’ She took it and smiled, but when he didn’t smile back she found it unsettling.

  She lingered a few more tortured seconds then sped back to their villa the same way she had come. The couple who had been sitting out on the terrace had gone inside, an unfinished wine bottle and two glasses still on the table, as if they had left in a hurry. The light was on in their bedroom; two silhouettes were removing their clothes. At that point Eloise realized she had come along their private pathway and each villa had its own access off the main path. A mistake she would not be making again.

  Their place was in darkness. Chrissy and Juliet had gone to bed. She shone the torch into Chrissy’s room to see if she was still awake.

  ‘That you, darling?’

  Always a sign that she had drunk too much. If ever she said darling, she meant Dan.

  ‘It’s me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Where’ve you been? Is it late?’

  ‘It’s only midnight, Mum.’

  But it was clearly not the time to ask about her evening. She kissed her mother goodnight, and Chrissy held onto her for as long as she could without falling out of bed. Eloise had almost reached the door when she heard her say, sleepily: ‘Last one in the pool in the morning is a piece of merde.’

  ‘Too right!’ said Eloise. ‘And it won’t be me. Do you like it here, Mum?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s fantastico,’ she replied through a yawn.

  Eloise laughed and closed the door, getting a fright when Juliet stuck her head out of her room.

  ‘Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,’ she said, waving the yellow bear at her.

  ‘Don’t let my mum see that, Juliet!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ she whispered back.

  ‘Well, night Juliet. We both love it here, by the way.’

  Eloise got into bed and placed Nico’s torch under her pillow. Only because she might need it during the night, she told herself.

  ***

  She panicked when she woke up the next morning and failed to see Chrissy anywhere. Then she remembered they were in Tuscany and shuffled next door to see if she was stirring yet. Chrissy lifted up the duvet without opening her eyes.

  Eloise slid in beside her, sitting up. Tugging her hair gently, she asked: ‘Did you have a nice night with Juliet then?’

  Chrissy moaned, pushing herself up the bed.

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ But she saw the determination in her daughter’s eyes and knew what she was in for. ‘Look, there’s only so much you can reminisce about old times before the reality of what happened hits you in the face.’

  Eloise nodded. She couldn’t imagine what her mother was going through. ‘So what happened next – when you got back to England?’ Eloise felt bad forcing Chrissy down memory lane again, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  Chrissy was silent for a moment. Then, rolling the duvet into tight little folds, she slipped back in time.

  CHAPTER 26

  London: summer, 1989

  The announcement came. She knew it wouldn’t be long now.

  Would all passengers please return to their vehicles. Foot passengers, please wait. The two English students, stand to the side and wait for the police.

  ‘We made it,’ said Juliet, shaking her. ‘Chrissy. Chrissy, look. It’s the white cliffs again. Look! You okay? You still look a bit green.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Come on, Chrissy. Don’t bomb out on me now. We’re almost there. We’re so close.’

  Juliet was right; she had to pull herself together. Otherwise what had it all been for? She may as well have turned herself in to the French police.

  Breathe Chrissy. Breathe.

  Clinging to Juliet, waiting to disembark, she could feel herself sinking. She took a step back to lean against the wall. Why was everyone looking at her? Could they tell she was a killer? Did it show on her face?

  ‘Nearly home. Just hold that thought.’

  Juliet’s voice was too loud and too confident.

  ‘We’ve still got to clear Passport Control yet. I’m so scared, Ju,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s going to be okay.’

  How could it be okay? Juliet had no idea what she was feeling inside. No idea at all.

  Chrissy had expected to feel better once they stepped off the boat onto British soil. It was this thought that had been keeping her going. But she didn’t. If anything, she felt worse. They had made it back from France without getting caught. Now she had her whole life to get through.

  ***

  ‘You’re still in shock,’ said Juliet, once they were on their way again. ‘I reckon a few stiff drinks with Dan tonight will sort you out.’

  Chrissy was silent for most of the journey. When they reached the outskirts of London, Juliet pointed gleefully to a sign for Victoria Coach Station. Holding up her crossed fingers, she said: ‘If we get through this, Chrissy, we can do anything.’ Sliding back down the seat again, she whispered: ‘Are you going to tell him? Dan, I mean.’

  ‘I’ve got to.’

  Chrissy stared at her own reflection in the window. The whole journey seemed to have passed in a blur. She couldn’t even remember turning in to the coach station, so it came as a surprise when they swung in to Stand C and the driver announced their arrival.

  Juliet took her hand so they could step down together. They were the last to get off. Chrissy felt her knees buckle as her feet touched the ground.

  ‘We made it, Chrissy. We’ve done it.’

  Everyone else clamoured to retrieve their bags, find loved ones. They simply stood still, observing the world carrying on around them.

  ‘We should go find out what time your bus is back to Manchester,’ said Juliet. ‘There’s a kiosk thingy there.’

  ‘Ten past three,’ the man said. ‘Gets in, eight twenty.’

  ‘I can wait with you,’ said Juliet. ‘We could go get a—’

  ‘No.’ Juliet’s face dropped. ‘You need to go, Juliet.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’ll see you in Bristol.’ Chrissy felt her strength returning. If they hung around for too long someone could identify them later. ‘It’s only two weeks till the start of term, Ju.’ She wiped a tear from Juliet’s cheek. ‘And don’t contact me over the summer, will you? No phone calls, letters. Nothing. It’s too risky.’

  Juliet shook her head. She was like a lost child. ‘I won’t,’ she said, attempting to hug her.

  Chrissy stepped b
ackwards. ‘Please go, Ju,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear it, I’m sorry.’ And then: ‘Wait! Just one thing – would you do me a favour? Phone Dan when you get home and tell him my coach gets in at eight twenty. I’ll probably break down if I do it.’

  ‘Yeah, ’course,’ she said, glad to be of some use.

  Chrissy managed to hold back the tears until she had seen Juliet turn to wave for the last time. When a complete stranger asked if she was okay she realized she had to get a grip.

  Making her way through to Domestic Departures she noticed a policeman positioned by the Exit, managing the flow of people.

  Do it, Chrissy. Do the right thing. The more time goes by the less believable your version of the truth will be.

  ‘You need to arrest me,’ she said, holding her hands out ready for the cuffs. ‘I’ve killed someone.’

  He waved her on. In her confused state she could only assume that she hadn’t said anything, and turned her face away from him as she passed.

  The queue at the booking office was slow. She found herself shaking, shifting from one foot to the other in order to camouflage it.

  Don’t lose it, Chrissy. Breathe.

  Handing over the money for her ticket she caught a whiff of her own body odour. It made her think of home and how much she longed for a shower.

  A shower.

  The whole scene came flooding back. Juliet on the bed. The bottle of wine. The phone call in the middle of the night. The man with a towel round his waist on top of her best friend. The smug look on his face. His mangled eye. Blood creeping across the sheets.

  ‘No, fuck you.’

  ***

  The coffee bar was heaving but she managed to sit down with her polystyrene cup of disappointing English coffee. Still in her pocket was a strip of paracetamol, which Juliet had given her at some point on their journey. Two white pills popped out onto the table and all she could do was stare at them. It was laughable really. How could they possibly make this go away?

  The coffee was steaming but she couldn’t wait for it to cool. Flinging the pills to the back of her throat, the hot liquid was scalding as it went down. She was still reeling from the pain when a young couple came and sat opposite her without even asking if it was okay. They were roughly the same age as her and Dan, wrapped around each other, in a world all their own. Their kisses stung Chrissy, and seeing their hands secretly disappear under clothes made her recoil.