by June Taylor
‘Of course you will, Ju. You know I’ll never forget you. And you’ll always be my best friend.’ She put her hand to her heart. ‘In here.’
Dan was keen to get going as soon as the van was loaded. He gave Juliet a brief hug goodbye. The snow was giving him a focus, which Chrissy was glad about because she knew how much Dan would miss Juliet, too. To think that Juliet would not be a part of their future, nor would they play any part in hers, was inconceivable right now. She didn’t even have the faintest idea that Chrissy was pregnant. Her best friend; she couldn’t even tell her that.
Dan started up the engine, and when Chrissy wound down the window Juliet stuck her hands through.
‘Please, Chrissy. Can’t we just stay in touch?’
‘No. I told you, it’s too dangerous.’
‘But you’re not leaving because of any other reason. Are you?
‘Like what?’
Dan revved the engine. ‘The snow’s getting heavy,’ he said.
Chrissy made sure her eyes were facing forwards and not on Juliet as they moved off slowly; Dan trying to get traction on the road. The yellow bear was on the dashboard. Chrissy picked it up and held it tightly to her chest. They were on their way.
‘What do you think she meant? Have you any idea?’ Chrissy asked, having reflected upon it a while. ‘You don’t think she suspects, do you?’
‘No,’ said Dan. Then: ‘Yes.’
‘Oh god, really?’
‘No, not about the baby. But I know what she meant.’
‘What?’
‘She tried to kiss me. It was a moment, Chrissy. A stupid moment, and she apologized.’
‘When?’
‘The night of the party. She was drunk, worried about you, still traumatized about France. You know what a mess it all is. Everything’s so screwed up.’
Chrissy let this filter through the chaos already tormenting her brain before she could respond.
‘And, so, what if I asked Juliet? What would she say happened?’
‘Look, I’ve told you, haven’t I?’ said Dan, hitting the steering wheel. ‘Is that not good enough for you? If we can’t trust one another, Chrissy, then we may as well quit now. The truth is there are bigger things to worry about than a kiss that never happened. We’re going to be parents, fuck’s sake. And we’re never even going to see Juliet again.’
She tossed the bear into the back. She was sick of the truth.
Her tears were silent all the way back to Manchester, burning into her cheeks like acid.
CHAPTER 31
Tuscany: 2007
It was morning. It must be.
Eloise was aware of someone shouting, slowing pulling her back from sleep. ‘Buongiorno. Are you awake yet? Cuckoo.’
Chrissy was fast asleep next to her, fully clothed on top of the covers.
‘Mum. Mum, wake up.’
‘What?’ she said, drowsily.
She felt her body go rigid as they heard voices in the next room. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s only Marianna. I think Juliet’s with her.’
They could hear bits of their conversation drifting in, weather-related mostly. Marianna said something about the temperature set to rise above 40 degrees again, and then a joke about it being a very British talking point.
‘I guess we ought to show our faces,’ said Chrissy, getting up off the bed, rearranging her clothes.
Eloise noticed the yellow bear caught up in the sheet. Its head was hanging off. She kicked it onto the floor.
‘Are you still angry with Juliet for trying to kiss my dad?’
Eloise wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself. Of course, among her friends, snogging your mate’s boyfriend was considered the ultimate betrayal. But, compared to everything else Juliet and Chrissy had been through, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. Juliet had hinted at some mild flirtation when they were in Rome – that she had only wanted to test Dan’s loyalty towards her mother.
Chrissy stood still for a moment, pensive.
‘Oh, I suppose I was just angry with the world,’ she said through a sigh. ‘Your dad was right, I overreacted. And I’d no business to, not really. It’s all in the past now anyway.’
She was making for the door.
‘All Juliet wants to do now, though, Mum, is help us. Can’t we just let her?’
‘Come on, let’s go.’
***
‘Out!’ said Chrissy.
They were attempting a game of tennis before the sun was fully ablaze. It was Eloise’s idea, an attempt to lure Juliet away on her own, but Chrissy had installed herself at the side of the court in a chair that she found in the small hut nearby. Even though she was umpiring in Eloise’s favour, Juliet was far too good and the heat was making Eloise lethargic. She used her ankle as an excuse and they abandoned the tennis for the pool, where Eloise hoped to get her moment with Juliet.
‘Does anyone fancy pizza tonight?’ Juliet asked after finishing her power lengths up and down. ‘I quite fancy having a go with that oven.’ It was a shrug from Chrissy and a nod from Eloise. ‘I’ll see about getting a scooter again then. Pop down into the village and get some provisions. Fancy joining me, Eloise?’
Then she felt torn. There were things she really wanted to clarify with Juliet, and Chrissy rarely gave them a moment, but Eloise had other plans for the rest of the day.
‘I’ve arranged to go horse riding,’ she replied, biting her lip. Nico might never ask her again.
‘As you wish,’ said Juliet.
‘Wait,’ shouted Eloise, chasing after her. ‘I have a shopping list.’
She didn’t. But when she reached Juliet she pretended to be writing things down, half-obscuring them both from Chrissy. ‘I know you tried to kiss my dad, Juliet,’ she whispered.
‘She told you that?’ Juliet considered it for a moment. ‘Hey Chrissy,’ she shouted.
‘Juliet, what’re you doing?’ Eloise grabbed her arm, digging her nails in.
‘Do you like anchovies on your pizza?’
‘Don’t mind,’ Chrissy shouted back, peering over the top of her sunglasses.
Eloise let go of her arm with a huge sigh of relief. ‘So why did you tell her about the money in my account? I thought we’d agreed not to say anything about that.’
‘Your mother and I have always told each other everything, Eloise. And I thought she’d be pleased.’
‘See if you can get some grenadine, Juliet,’ Chrissy shouted over. ‘For old times’ sake.’
‘What about the bear then?’ Eloise asked, finding it harder to keep her voice down. ‘Did you show her that, too?’
‘Great idea, Chrissy,’ Juliet shouted back. Then: ‘No, ’course not. She just spotted it. I carry it around in my bag. I like to keep it close; it’s a lovely reminder of those younger days. Look we’re good, Eloise. You just have to trust me; it’s all going to plan.’
‘But what’s the plan. Juliet?’
‘These pizzas are going to be the best you’ve ever tasted,’ she shouted, walking away.
Eloise returned to the pool, mulling things over.
‘That must have been a long shopping list,’ said her mother. ‘You okay, Eloise?’
‘Oh. Yeah, I realized I’ve run out of a few things. Trying to remember if I forgot anything.’
She did a couple more lengths of the pool. Chrissy was still lounging in the hammock with her book. Surprisingly, she seemed more relaxed today.
‘Okay, well, I’m going to get ready,’ Eloise announced, getting out of the pool and dripping over to her.
‘Oh,’ said Chrissy, peering over the rim of her sunglasses. ‘That wasn’t a joke then, about the horse riding?’
‘Of course it wasn’t a joke, Mum. It’s good to try these things.’
‘Who’re you going with?’
‘Marianna’s sorting it for me.’
‘Well, take some water from the fridge. And bring some down for me, would you?’
It was a r
elief to be back indoors where it was cool and peaceful. Having the place to herself gave her some time to shift her mind back into seeing Nico again.
After a cold shower she quickly got dressed. Pulling her ponytail through her Ricci baseball cap, checking her look in the mirror, she was ready to set off. As she passed Chrissy’s room she was sure she heard a noise. ‘Mum, is that you?’ she said, edging towards the door, pushing it lightly with her finger.
‘Juliet! I thought you’d gone. What are you doing in here?’
She was over by Chrissy’s wardrobe. It looked like she was going through her clothes. She even had on one of her mother’s old sweatshirts that she wore nearly all the time.
Juliet had been crying.
‘I lost her,’ she wailed. ‘She saved me and then just … abandoned me.’ She was clutching one of Chrissy’s T-shirts, lifting it up to her face to breathe in her smell.
‘She had to though,’ said Eloise. Despite the bizarreness of the situation, she did understand her pain. ‘It must have been awful for you, Juliet. I know if I lost my best friend I’d be devastated too. But you’ve found her again now.’
‘The trouble is I don’t know how to make her like me again.’
‘Well, I guess things have to get worse before they can get better,’ said Eloise, repeating Juliet’s words back to her.
Juliet smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I got overwhelmed all of a sudden. I was supposed to be going into town to get provisions, wasn’t I? You won’t say a word about this, will you?’
‘Er, definitely not,’ said Eloise. ‘And you’d better take that off before she sees you in it, or she’ll think you’re taking the piss out of her clothes.’
***
‘Here,’ she said, slapping a cool bottle of water into her mother’s hand. Eloise watched her glug it down. She kicked at the cracks in the sun-baked ground. ‘You won’t be mean to Juliet when I’m gone, will you?’
‘It’s too hot for that,’ she replied. ‘With any luck she’ll set fire to herself with that pizza oven.’
Eloise took a moment to realize she was joking. She tutted and gave the hammock a shove.
‘Just let me know when you’re ready to go home, Eloise.’
‘What? To Manchester?’
‘Well, yes, that is where we live.’
‘Already? Do you want to go home?’
‘Are you going to be all right on horseback, do you think?’
‘Come with me if you’re so worried about me.’ Eloise tried not sound too irritated. She knew full well that her mother wouldn’t come, but the excuse she gave was a little unexpected.
‘I’m allergic to horses,’ she said.
‘I never knew that.’
‘You don’t know everything, Eloise.’
‘I thought I did now.’
Chrissy pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. ‘Who’re you going with again?’
‘I told you, Marianna’s sorting it for me.’
She returned to her book, cracking the spine.
Eloise gave the hammock a final shove and shouted: ‘Enjoy!’
Chrissy reached over to hit her backside with the book but only succeeded in tipping herself out of the hammock.
‘Fuck!’ she heard her say.
‘The word is fluck, Maman!’
***
Eloise ran towards the field where she could see Nico galloping about on a very impressive black beast. She hoped this was his horse and not the promised Cioccolato, especially when it suddenly flicked its back legs into the air jerking him forwards. Maybe she should have listened to her mother. She watched him take a series of jumps and he seemed at one with his horse. When she realized he was cantering towards her, she waved. ‘Are we still going?’ she shouted.
‘I have prepared Cioccolato for you.’
Without warning, a hot flush consumed her entire body as she considered what they had been doing yesterday. She managed to recover as Nico began to explain the basics of how to hold onto the reins, how to start and stop, and how to turn. Then, with his help, she managed to get onto Cioccolato’s back, alarmed at how high up she was.
‘Okay, Eloise?’
‘I – I think so.’
‘So let’s go.’
He swung himself up onto the black horse, steadying it with the reins. Cioccolato set off without any encouragement, which was just as well, as Eloise hadn’t taken in a single instruction.
‘Relax,’ he shouted, waiting for them to catch up. ‘Okay,’ he continued. ‘It’s a little difficult to explain, but it’s a feeling. You know?’
She didn’t know what he was talking about and shook her head. ‘Well, it’s just you feel the movement of the horse but you don’t think about it. It’s like, you just feel.’
‘I can feel something,’ she said, her cheeks burning.
He spurred his horse on. She was relieved that he set a slow pace across the field, and they were soon out among vineyards and olive groves. Once she completely trusted that Cioccolato was perfectly capable of negotiating the narrow winding paths on his own, she actually began to enjoy it. They rode for about an hour, coming to a shallow stream with rocks clustered around its edges, an open view of the hillside tumbling all the way down to the valley. Nico dismounted, allowing his horse to dip its head in the stream before tossing the reins loosely over a jutting rock. He didn’t come over to help and she struggled to get down.
They sat on a rock that had a flattish seat, and Eloise wondered who else had been here with him in this very spot. He offered her some water, but seemed abrupt with her now and she was confused.
Was it because she had refused to go any further yesterday?
They sat for a while, passing the bottle of water back and forth. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but ran the risk of upsetting him if she did. When the bottle was empty, he screwed the top on tightly and began tapping it against his knee. He looked at her, looked away again, tossing it to one side.
‘When did your father die, Eloise?’
‘What?’
‘You told me he died, when we were at the lake.’
‘Well, erm … I was eleven.’ She was thrown by this sudden change in him. ‘So – so nearly seven years ago.’
‘What happened to him?’
She didn’t like his tone. ‘He got cancer. Testicular cancer. You know down—’
‘Yes, yes I know where the testicles are.’
‘Well, they said it was curable. Usually it is, but he had a rare form and it killed him. He was a musician. Dan, he was called Dan. I really miss him.’
As the tears welled up she became angry, feeling trampled. ‘Why? What do you care anyway?’
He glanced at her. Then he dropped his head between his knees. ‘Because mine is dead, too.’
It took her a moment to absorb what he had just said. ‘Oh, Nico, I’m so sorry.’ She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘What happened to him? Do you want to talk about it?’
He picked up a stick, tracing it across the ground. ‘No,’ he said, throwing it away again. He got to his feet and went over to the horses. ‘Time to go.’
After handing her the reins he gave her a sideways nod to get back on Cioccolato. Her foot found the stirrup easily and with a helpful push she was safely back in the saddle. They carried on in silence for another three quarters of an hour, but Eloise felt like her heart had been ripped out and rammed back in again. She wanted to head back now. They seemed to have covered some distance and she was annoyed with herself for not paying enough attention to the route. At the next opportunity she would tell him that she had had enough.
To her surprise, he suggested they make a stop at a viewing-point where she might want to take a photograph. She didn’t protest when he helped her dismount but took a hasty picture on her phone so that they could start turning back. She was just about to say as much when Nico leant against the wooden barrier, and said: ‘I was three years old.’
Eloise felt herself leaning into him. ‘Really, Nico? God, t
hat’s so young. Do you remember him?’
‘Sometimes. Maybe only through a picture.’ He made as if he was holding up a camera. It reminded her of her own dad in the photos they had at home, frozen in time, always happy. Nico began to search for something in his pocket. ‘I think I can remember him holding me,’ he said. ‘One second.’ From the back of his shorts he pulled out his wallet, easing his fingers down into it. ‘This is him …’ He showed her a small, well-worn photograph, slightly creased in one corner. ‘And me.’
His father had dark hair, a confident smile, and it was plain to see where Nico’s good looks came from. He was cradling him to his chest, the white baby blanket falling over one arm. ‘He looks like a lovely dad,’ said Eloise. ‘And you have his eyes. People say I have my dad’s eyes, too, which I love. I suppose because he’s not here any more.’ She passed the photo back. ‘I know how it feels, Nico.’
‘Maybe.’
Everyone’s pain was different, she knew that. She knew also that these moments could not be shared. Loss was a very lonely place. So it pleased her when he seemed to want to tell her more.
‘He used to work away a lot. We lived in France then. His job was sur la route. You know, sales? Erm, driving.’
‘A salesman.’
‘Si. Exactly.’
‘How did he die? Was he in an accident?’
He did that tutting noise again, followed by: ‘No.’
‘Was he ill?’
Again the tut. ‘No.’
‘Oh god, he didn’t—?’
She hesitated.
‘Kill himself? Non,’ he replied.
The only other possibility she couldn’t bring herself to say either. But she didn’t need to.
‘He was murdered.’
She had no words to offer him. How could she say that she understood this too? That her own mother had killed someone, and that she often thought of what that left in its wake.
He moved away, towards the horses.
‘No, wait. Nico.’
‘We should be heading back.’
‘That must be so awful for you. And for Marianna, too. Do they know who did it? And why?’