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

by June Taylor

  ‘No need,’ said Marianna, shaking the wine-carrier she was holding.

  She sat down next to Eloise, taking out four bottles of Chianti and putting them on the table.

  ‘We’ll still need another glass,’ said Chrissy. ‘Une verre. No! What am I talking about? I mean un verre. Oh là là!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Marianna. ‘It’s one to catch you out.’

  Chrissy smiled, disappointed in herself. As she headed up the path Eloise ran after her.

  She could have warned her then. She meant to.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, when they got to the kitchen she panicked, begging Chrissy to finish off her story in a play for more time.

  ‘Not now, Eloise,’ she said, opening the dishwasher.

  ‘I need to know, Mum. I need to know the rest.’

  ‘You know enough. There’s no more I can tell you.’

  She did know enough, but if she allowed her mother to go back out there and start drinking again it could be the end. And who could predict what sort of ending that might be? If she could keep Chrissy here a while longer, then Marianna would probably lose interest and go.

  ‘They’ll be fine those two,’ she said. ‘They’ll be chatting. What about when I was born? Were you happy? Was Dad happy?’

  Chrissy perched on a stool. ‘Where do you want me to go from?’

  ‘Sending Juliet that stupid brooch.’

  CHAPTER 33

  Manchester: 1990

  ‘That’s a nice brooch. Who’s it for?’

  ‘Juliet. It’s her birthday.’

  Chrissy’s mum inspected it more closely. ‘Unusual,’ she said. ‘It’s quite heavy. Looks expensive. Will you stay in touch, do you think, after the baby’s born?’

  ‘I doubt it. Our lives are too different now.’

  Chrissy was not at all sure what to write on the card. There was so much to say and so much to ask Juliet. How was she? How was she coping? Did she suffer from panic attacks, night sweats and paranoia? Did she burst into tears for no reason, jump at the slightest thing, tear herself apart and lose her temper with those she loved? Or was she out partying every night, drinking and laughing, being the same old Juliet whom everyone adored and wanted to spend time with?

  So much had changed for Chrissy. She had killed a man, dropped out of university and was going to have a baby. The world had gone mad in the space of only a few months.

  She couldn’t think straight. Her hand was trembling as she wrote:

  ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIET

  … one last time.

  I’ll never forget.

  As long as we live,

  Chrissy xxx’

  ***

  On her way back from the post office she called by to see Dan. A small indie label had shown interest in signing his band and given them free rehearsal space in Hulme in a semi-derelict warehouse.

  ‘Fag break soon, guys,’ he announced when he saw her, mouthing the words five minutes whilst they finished off the song.

  ‘We’ll go outside,’ he said as the others were lighting up. He had become very protective; it made her feel safe. ‘So, how you feeling today?’

  ‘Yeah, sick.’

  Dan knew it was far more than just morning sickness, bad enough in itself, but the flashbacks were growing more and more graphic each day.

  ‘I’ve decided to go and see that bloke this afternoon. You know, about doing some tutoring.’

  ‘Really? Well, that’s fantastic.’ He kissed her forehead.

  ‘Can’t think straight, to be honest, but we need the money and it’ll get me out of the house. Might stop me thinking too much.’

  They were moving into Dan’s grandmother’s house just around the corner from the rehearsal studio. It was a temporary measure. His grandmother was going into a nursing home and her property would have to be sold. Their names were on a council house waiting list but they had been told it was clogged. Finding somewhere cheap to rent was probably their best option, but with Dan’s band always on the verge of being signed, things were tight. Guitar and keyboard lessons brought in a bit of extra cash, and gigs too, although takings had to be shared between the five of them. The music store needed him only on a casual basis.

  ***

  ‘It’s for you, Chrissy,’ her mother shouted.

  They must not find her.

  She would be thrown into jail, deported to France, the baby taken off her the moment it was born.

  ‘Didn’t you hear the phone ringing? It’s for you.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Someone from the dole office. Are you all right, love?’

  ‘Can you take a message?’

  ‘Won’t that seem a bit odd now? I’ve told her you’re in.’

  At least some of her behaviour could be explained through being pregnant, but it was only a matter of time before her mother would suspect there was something much deeper going on and begin to ask questions.

  From the moment she discovered she was pregnant her feelings towards this baby had been erratic. It felt strange that something was growing inside her, feeding off her like some parasite. Each time she looked in the mirror her body had become more distorted, disfigured, stretched, swollen and sore, and she barely recognized herself. People assured her these feelings were normal. But her life was in such a mess after France, the last thing she wanted was to mess up someone else’s as well.

  When there was no sign of the baby a week and a half after the due date, a caesarean was threatened. She absolutely refused. The idea of being slashed open seemed the most violent way to bring her baby into the world.

  ***

  ‘It’s a girl!’

  The nurse held up a peculiar-looking bundle streaked with blood and slime. It shocked Chrissy to see that it was still attached to her by some revolting slithery rope. Dan stroked her forehead, pushing away strands of sweat-soaked hair. ‘Well done,’ he kept saying, as if she had performed some miracle. She had, of course, but she had just wanted rid. Eighteen hours of sweating, pushing, swearing, screaming; an ordeal from start to finish.

  The nurse, a smiling rosebud of a woman, placed the baby across her chest. Chrissy tensed against the pillow, turning her head away. If she had had one more scrap of energy left in her body she would have screamed. Dan leant over to give the baby’s head a kiss, delicately, like he was afraid it might break; at the same time, stroking Chrissy’s hair.

  They were too young. Wouldn’t it be better to give her away? Find parents who were better equipped to take care of her? Let her grow up with people who knew nothing of her mother’s past and the terrible thing she had done.

  Tell them that’s what you want to happen. Tell them now. Then she will never have to know.

  It was at that point the tiny creature screwed up its wrinkly, red face and let out a cry loud enough to wake the entire hospital: the sick, the dying and even its dead.

  And Chrissy smiled.

  Her reaction surprised her; she even heard herself saying ‘Shush’. She closed her eyes and reached for Dan’s hand across the bed as the baby nestled into her breast, vowing to protect her daughter from all of life’s evils until her dying breath.

  She was beautiful.

  Eloise.

  CHAPTER 34

  Tuscany: 2007

  ‘I love you more and more each day,’ she said, coming over to give Eloise a kiss. ‘We should go back. They’ll be sending a search party out for us. We only came to get a glass.’

  Her mother’s arm slid around Eloise’s waist; she was steering them straight into the ambush.

  ‘We don’t have to go!’ said Eloise. ‘Why don’t we just stay here?’ She even considered throwing herself onto the ground, pretending to be ill.

  ‘Why would we want to stay here?’ said Chrissy, laughing. She was drunk already, and there was something inevitable about all of this now. Juliet had pushed them to the edge of this precipice and there was no stepping back.

  Marianna’s voice could be h
eard quite clearly as they got closer.

  ‘We can go for a walk, Mum. I can show you the lake.’

  ‘Here they come. We thought you’d got lost,’ said Juliet, putting a cigarette to her lips.

  She gave Eloise a look of interrogation as they approached … Had she said something to her mum? Did Chrissy know who Marianna was yet? Eloise responded with a discreet shake of her head and Juliet sat back looking pleased.

  Where was this leading? Did Juliet even know?

  She deeply regretted now not warning her mother. And why on earth had she trusted Juliet so implicitly? Eloise wiped the sweat off her face with her forearm, puffing up a breath of air to cool her forehead.

  ‘It’s still hot,’ said Marianna. She didn’t look hot, not to Eloise. The complete opposite, in fact – scarily cool. ‘The storm is coming, you’ll see,’ she added, making it sound more like a threat. ‘Then it will cool down.’

  ‘When?’ asked Eloise.

  ‘I just hope it’s not tomorrow night. We are having a party. Guests are very welcome. You must come along.’ Marianna held her glass in the air. ‘Santé. Or should I say salute, as we are in Italy?’

  ‘Salute, santé, cheers,’ said Chrissy. ‘Or should I say Cheese Eloise?’

  Chrissy was the only one who laughed. As their glasses came together, Eloise prepared to hear them smash.

  ‘So tell me,’ said Marianna, addressing Chrissy, ‘when were you last in France?’

  Eloise watched any newfound confidence quickly seep out of her mother. The reminder of being in France was enough to traumatize.

  ‘It was another lifetime ago,’ she replied, kicking at a crack in the ground, probably wishing she could slither into it. Marianna was right, the rain was badly needed; there were cracks appearing everywhere and things hadn’t even got started yet.

  Eloise tried to distract. ‘Do you miss France, Marianna?’

  Marianna eyed her with suspicion.

  ‘Oh. Er, Nico mentioned you used to live there,’ she added nervously.

  ‘Mm. Well, I needed a new start, so I came back to Italy. And it’s very beautiful here.’

  ‘Sure is,’ said Chrissy, daydreaming.

  To see her mother suddenly so relaxed again was worrying. She mustn’t let her have any more wine. Nor have any more herself, for that matter. Eloise handed out the olives and nuts, going round the table three times.

  Remember that Marianna doesn’t know who we are.

  Remember that.

  Just like Mum doesn’t have a clue who Marianna is.

  ‘Sit still, Eloise,’ said Chrissy. ‘What’s the matter with you? Do you have horseflies in your shorts or something?’ She laughed, but no one else did.

  ‘Nic said you’d been out today,’ said Marianna. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, blushing. Even now there was a confusing disconnect between the awful reality of Nico, who he really was, and the daydream of him. What if he were to find out who they were? She had seen what Nico was capable of, his wild streak, and it had scared her.

  ‘It’s just so peaceful, so perfect here,’ said Chrissy, stretching out her arms. ‘You’re very lucky, Marianna.’

  ‘That’s what everyone says. Yes, it is, and I am very lucky. Some people come here to paint, some to write, some just to escape. I’m always curious what brings my guests here. So what brought you?’

  ‘Definitely the last one,’ said Chrissy. ‘Escape.’ She swished the wine around her glass. ‘But actually, it was all her doing. My best friend over there.’ She chinked her glass hard against Juliet’s.

  ‘What is it you want to escape from?’ asked Marianna.

  There was a silence that no one wanted to fill. Then Juliet came up with: ‘Why don’t we play the happiness game?’

  ‘What the hell is that?’ said Chrissy. ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘My therapist taught me it.’

  ‘Your therapist?’ Chrissy guffawed. ‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’

  ‘You don’t have to stay for this stupid game, Marianna,’ said Eloise.

  ‘Oh, I think I do. I am very intrigued.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Juliet, clapping her hands. ‘Who shall we start with? You, Eloise.’

  ‘Do we have to?’ She glowered at Juliet. She could see where this was going. An image of Juliet was forming in her head. She pictured her chairing a meeting in one of her own designer suits, persuading people to do things they didn’t want to do. This is what Juliet Ricci did all the time.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘on a scale of one to ten, how happy are you?’

  ‘Is ten the best?’ Eloise said, calmly. She was screaming inside.

  ‘Ten is perfect, one is abysmal.’

  ‘What if you’re less than one?’ asked Chrissy.

  ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ Juliet snapped. ‘You know you’re not. Your fabulous daughter is here, next to you, for one thing. You’re on holiday in a beautiful place …’

  Chrissy put her hands up in submission. ‘I was just querying.’

  ‘Well, don’t. You’re not allowed to be minus. She’s had some “stuff” going on.’ Juliet drew quotation marks in the air. ‘Lost her husband, gets a bit down. Just won’t let things go.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Marianna. ‘Well, I hope this holiday can go some way towards healing.’

  Eloise held onto her breath, because Marianna seemed to have only paused, and Eloise was bracing herself for more words to come.

  ‘I lost my husband too.’

  ‘You did? Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Chrissy.

  Actually, that was not such a bad thing for her mother to hear. Other people suffered as well. But the significance of it hit Eloise hard. Chrissy was the reason Marianna had lost her husband.

  ‘Look, do we have to play this stupid game? I don’t even know how happy I am. I just know that I am.’

  ‘Sounds like an eight,’ said Juliet.

  ‘I guess,’ said Eloise, reluctantly. ‘I guess I’m an eight.’ She should have left it there, diverted the conversation onto some completely new topic, but she wanted Juliet to know what it was like melting under the spotlight. ‘So what about you, Juliet? You’ll probably say you’re a ten as you’re such a positive person. But what are you really?’

  Marianna topped up their glasses as they waited for her answer. Eloise took note that she would pour herself only a tiny amount, and none at all on this occasion. Perhaps she thought Eloise was older than seventeen. Did she have some agenda all of her own? But how could Marianna possibly know who they were?

  ‘Go on then, what do you reckon I am?’ Juliet challenged her. ‘I’d be interested to know.’

  ‘Ooh, well, let’s see now.’ Eloise swallowed a large mouthful of wine, forgetting that she was meant to be stopping. ‘She’s onto husband number four – I guess that tells us something. Rarely sees him though. He lives in Italy and she’s in London, so hardly the perfect marriage.’

  ‘Eloise!’ said Chrissy, but she almost looked delighted.

  ‘No, no. You carry on,’ said Juliet, smiling at Marianna to indicate her willingness.

  ‘Okay,’ said Eloise. ‘She doesn’t have any kids. But, on the plus side, she’s absolutely loaded and runs her own fashion company.’

  ‘I adore your clothes, by the way,’ said Marianna. ‘They’re a little expensive, but now and again I like to treat myself.’

  ‘Well, who doesn’t?’ said Chrissy.

  ‘Er, you, Mum!’

  ‘Right,’ said Juliet, raising her glass. ‘Well thanks for the summary, Eloise. I love my life but I do spend too much time travelling. Always putting my career first has meant I’ve not had a conventional married life, and a family would have been nice, you’re right. However, I’m never less than an eight.’

  ‘It’s not too late,’ said Marianna. ‘You’re still young enough to have children.’

  ‘It’s not going to happen,’ said Juliet. ‘It can’t.’

  Even in her present mood,
Eloise did not wish to delve into that one. In fact, Juliet looked so upset she almost wanted to apologize for overstepping the mark. She watched her light up another cigarette as the cicadas did their usual clicking in the background, making a mockery of their silence. Marianna poured out more wine. Eloise managed to cover her glass just in time. She counted six bottles on the table: five empty, one half full. Was Marianna deliberately trying to loosen their tongues? Did she normally spend her evenings playing cruel party games with her guests? She was the only sober one among them and seemed to be playing some game all of her own.

  But why?

  ‘So what about you, Chrissy?’ asked Marianna. ‘How happy are you?’

  Chrissy had drunk more than any of them. ‘I’m nearer to one than ten, put it that way,’ she said, slurring her words.

  ‘And is that because of losing your husband, do you think?’

  Marianna’s voice was gently soothing.

  ‘He was a good man,’ Chrissy replied.

  ‘Oh, he was the best,’ said Eloise, feeling the need to intervene. ‘He was my dad.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Marianna. She stroked Eloise’s hair in a genuinely kind way. ‘But time heals.’

  ‘It does if you let it,’ said Juliet.

  Chrissy ignored the dig. ‘He was the love of my life,’ she said, tapping the side of her glass with her chewed fingernails. ‘But I lost the love for life when I was only a couple of years older than Eloise.’

  ‘Oh. What happened?’

  Marianna seemed to be weaving delicate threads around her.

  ‘She gave birth to me I think!’ said Eloise, gripping her mother’s hands.

  Juliet laughed, so too did Marianna. And Chrissy did seem grateful, although her lucky escape only made her drink more.

  ‘That leaves you, Marianna,’ said Juliet. ‘How do you score on the happiness scale?’

  Perhaps Juliet was more in control of this game after all. It was a masterstroke. If Marianna said the right things, it could be just what her mother needed to hear. Eloise crossed her fingers under the table until it actually hurt, crossing them even tighter.