Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming. June Taylor
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heart lifted, ignoring the warning voice in her head. She had zero plans for the summer and Dan was away teaching guitar at summer school, followed by a music festival with the band.
‘I’d love that,’ Chrissy replied, chinking mugs. She took one mouthful and began to sputter. ‘Oh god! It’s absolute merde.’
Juliet and Chrissy broke into fits of laughter, a mixture of excitement and relief from both sides.
‘Slight problem though,’ said Chrissy. ‘How do we pay for it?’ Her grant money had long run out, the overdraft was gone and she had reached the credit limit on her card. ‘Suppose I could ask my parents to stump up for a coach ticket maybe …’
Juliet held up two tickets, waving them in front of her face. ‘Proceeds from JustSoJu. Instead of frittering it away on … well, that’s all history now.’ Chrissy’s mouth fell open. ‘I knew you’d say yes, Chrissy. Two open returns, London to Paris. Bit slow by coach, but hey, we have the whole summer. And once we get down to the coast we’ll get jobs dead easy. It’ll be a blast.’
Chrissy didn’t doubt that. Life was always a blast with Juliet.
‘But we get to Paris and then what?’
Juliet stuck her thumb out, as if that should have been obvious.
‘Hitch-hike? Is it safe?’
‘’Course it’s safe. Trust me: I’ve done it all over the world and never had a problem yet. Even on my own.’
‘Not on your own. God.’
‘Well, only once, and I knew the guy. Friend of my parents; an absolute gent. Pity really, as I quite fancied him. I’ll get you back to Dan in one piece, don’t you worry.’
Juliet put up a convincing case: two young girls with rucksacks on their backs, cardboard sign, friendly smiles. They could take a tent, too, and be free, roaming spirits. Not many male motorists would leave Juliet standing by the side of the road with her thumb out, that was for sure.
‘I think we should avoid the Côte d’Azur and aim more for the south-west,’ said Chrissy, suddenly embarrassed by her eagerness. ‘Okay, so I already looked at my map. Why are you laughing? It’ll be cheaper on that side of the coast.’
‘You kind of just take the lifts you can get,’ Juliet responded with her usual breeze. ‘You’ll soon get the hang of it,’ she added, patting Chrissy’s leg. Then she held up her mug. ‘Cul sec and vive les vacances.’
Chrissy held onto her nose as she downed it in one, recoiling from the aftershock.
‘Can’t wait,’ she said, coughing and spluttering.
Manchester: 2007
‘Sounds great,’ said Eloise. ‘So was it easy to get lifts? Is that what you did?’
‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘I’m not!’
‘Well, lots of people did it then. That didn’t take away the risks, but it wasn’t considered totally mad.’
‘Did you just take off then, without any more planning than that?’ Eloise was reflecting on her own trip with Anya.
‘There was no internet then, you know.’ Chrissy laughed at herself. ‘Can you believe it? How reckless.’
For a fleeting moment Eloise thought she saw the teenage girl her mother had once been. But she noticed how quickly her expression changed. ‘So why don’t people hitch any more, do you reckon?’ she asked her.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe there was more trust then. Or more fear now, what with all the media and—’
‘The internet,’ Eloise chipped in, sarcastically. Her mother hated it; she didn’t know why. Then another thought occurred to her. ‘That yellow bear … ’ Eloise stopped for a moment. ‘That’s not the one Dad gave to me, is it? I thought it was a present – for me, I mean. But, so, Juliet gave it to him?’
‘Well, I guess he wanted you to look after it. He was fond of it.’
Eloise still couldn’t help feeling disappointed. ‘Where is it, by the way?’
‘Oh,’ said Chrissy, trying to think. ‘Haven’t seen it in a while. You’ve hidden it and forgotten where, haven’t you? Don’t worry, it’ll turn up. I’m off to bed.’
‘No! I want to hear about your trip.’
‘’Night, Eloise.’
***
Eloise’s first thought on Sunday morning was to check the fridge. In her haste to hide the enormous bottle of champagne from Chrissy, she feared she may not have disguised it well enough.
‘Morning,’ said Chrissy, suddenly appearing.
The fridge juddered as Eloise slammed the door shut.
‘You look a bit tired, Eloise. Do you feel okay?’
She forced a smile. It had been a restless night, worrying that her mother would be angry with her, instead of grateful, when she finally came face-to-face with her best friend again.
Her fists clenched when she saw Chrissy opening the fridge.
The champagne bottle was still wrapped in the carrier bag, wedged behind the leftovers from Maria. Eloise watched anxiously as Chrissy removed the carton of milk and took it to the table. A small part of her wished that her mother had discovered it, and then she could tell her the truth; the rest of her was glad because that might just ruin things completely.
With so many knots in her stomach, Eloise merely pushed her cereal round the bowl. ‘I have a theory about Juliet,’ she said. ‘Do you want to hear it?’
‘Depends what it is,’ said Chrissy, licking butter off her fingers.
‘Well, it’s about that brooch.’ She winced as she said the word ‘brooch’, sensing this was a bit of a trigger.
Chrissy put down her toast and folded her arms, resting them on the edge of the table. ‘Okay. Fine. Let’s hear it.’
‘Well, I think Juliet’s been trying to communicate with you. I mean, for ages.’
‘What, via the brooch?’ Chrissy scoffed. ‘Like some telepathic thought transfer through the cat?’
‘Sort of.’
Eloise knew her theory was a good one. Most people used the internet these days; it was almost impossible to function without it. Unless, of course, you were Chrissy: ‘It’s too nosey, too public, too Big Brother-like,’ she would say. ‘You give it bits of information and soon the whole world knows your business and where you are.’
‘I just think, Mum, that she hopes you might try and Google her sometime.’
‘Like you did to her you mean?’
‘Well, yeah, it’s what people do. And when you find her website, there she is: wearing the silver cat brooch in her hair that you didn’t even think she liked.’
‘So?’
‘So, almost twenty years have gone by and she still has this thing in her hair. Don’t you get it? She wants you to see it. It’s a message just for you.’
‘Saying what?’
‘Saying: she cares about you; she misses you; still thinks about you – all of those things. Saying, get in touch.’
Chrissy took another bite of her toast, but Eloise could see that she had sent her to some distant place.
‘Don’t