Читать книгу Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming - June Taylor - Страница 12

Bristol: 1988

Chrissy didn’t need to look at the numbers down Cowper Road to know where the party was. There was already a huddle gathered outside on the front steps and music was blaring into the street. The house was in a row of Victorian terraces, much shabbier than the ones either side of it. She closed the A-Z before anyone saw it and dropped it into the inside pocket of her overcoat; she didn’t completely trust other people’s maps. The heavy reggae beat pumped through her chest as she got nearer. Clutching her cheap bottle of wine, she pushed her way through the smokers in the doorway. The wisps of a joint weaved up her nostrils as drinks were held aloft, and she repeatedly said ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’.

She was heading for the kitchen but somehow ended up in the front room where people were dancing. A beige sofa had been turned on its end to make more space and the gas fire had a CONDEMNED sign across it. Her eyes were drawn to a glitter ball, casting coloured spots over the walls and people’s faces as it spun round. The smell of beer, sweat and hairspray hung in the air and took some getting used to.

She had almost made it into the kitchen when the music changed to The Smiths and she felt a hand pulling her back in.

‘Chrissy, come and dance,’ someone shouted. She assumed it was Juliet, although wasn’t sure, and almost stumbled.

Whoever it was wore a fascinator-style hat with a net over her face and looked stunning in a fitted tartan jacket, black shorts, high heels and fishnets. ‘Really glad you’ve come,’ she said, lifting up the net and taking a drag from a roll-up, releasing a trail of smoke from the side of her mouth.

‘Hi. I wasn’t sure if it was you,’ said Chrissy. She quickly looked around for somewhere to put her wine bottle, embarrassed that she still had it, then danced to ‘Panic’ with a group of people who all seemed to know Juliet.

‘Drink?’ said Juliet when it had finished.

She ushered Chrissy into the kitchen, sloshing wine into a glass as she made some introductions. ‘Paula, Leo, Ali, Jazz.’ Chrissy smiled as they were being pointed out to her. ‘Carl, Vernon, Gabby.’ They had to be the coolest crowd in Bristol, an indie fusion of every fashion style going – punk, New Romantic, Hippie chic, and anything in between. Despite feeling underdressed in her jeans, Docs and purple lipstick, Chrissy was soon chatting away about music, gigs, Glastonbury and Dan’s band. To think that she had very nearly talked herself out of coming tonight.

Most people at the party, as far as she could tell, were Second Years, perhaps herself and Juliet the only freshers, so when the conversation in the kitchen turned to housemates’ banter she moved over to the wall where she could observe Juliet more easily. Juliet was dancing again, but every so often she would get a tap on the shoulder and briefly stop. Seemed like everyone wanted to speak to her.

How did she do it? A mere fresher.

‘Chrissy!’ Juliet called when she spotted her again. ‘Have you met my friend Chrissy, everyone?’ She placed a drunken arm around her neck, pulling her in to dance. Chrissy tried not to spill her drink as they swayed to some reggae beat.

‘How do you know all these people, Juliet?’

‘Oh well let’s see … Ali and Jazz, I know from school. They were the year above me. Hang on a sec.’ She turned away to talk to someone momentarily then came back. ‘Sorry. Yeah, so I visited them in Bristol a few times last year. It’s their party, in case you hadn’t worked that out.’

‘I had.’

She was just about to ask a further question when Juliet got an arm around her shoulder and a joint pushed into her mouth. Chrissy realized her moment was up.

‘Let’s have a proper chat later,’ she shouted, waving the joint in the air. ‘Really glad you showed.’

‘Me too,’ Chrissy replied, but Juliet had already flitted.

Chrissy ventured upstairs to find the toilet, climbing over drunken bodies. The first door she tried opened on a couple having sex on a pile of coats, so she shut it again quickly. In the next she was invited to do a line, but eventually found the queue for the toilet and, instead, stood in line.

Juliet was nowhere to be seen when she went back downstairs. Chrissy danced for a while, but soon tired of being on her own and looked for somewhere to put herself. One of the Rasta guys tried to pull her back as she moved away. She gave him a friendly smile, accepting the remains of a joint he was offering her, and began to pick her way through the empty Red Stripe cans, squashing peanuts into the slug-trailed carpet and fanning herself with her T-shirt. The glitter ball spots made the whole ceiling go round as she flopped into a beanbag kicked into the corner. She took a sly look at her watch. One thirty, and more people seemed to be arriving. Perhaps it was time to go.

‘So how do you know Ju then?’

It was a girl from the kitchen whose name she couldn’t remember. She slid down the wall and sat beside her, and Chrissy thought her eyes looked strange, like she had taken something. The girl’s question puzzled her at first, until she realized. ‘Oh, you mean Juliet. She’s on my course. But I don’t know her very well.’

Chrissy took the final drag on the spliff, seeing that the girl had one of her own.

‘Her stuff’s incredible, isn’t it?’ the girl said, putting hers to her mouth.

‘Is it?’ Chrissy replied.

‘There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!’

Juliet was carrying a stack of white toast smeared in Marmite, holding the plate aloft. She offered it to Chrissy just as several hands descended from all directions. ‘Hang on, hang on. Play nicely you lot.’ Despite not feeling hungry, and not even sure whether she liked Marmite that much, Chrissy helped herself to a piece.

Juliet handed the plate over to the greedy pack and they moved away.

‘Watch her, she’s trouble that one,’ said Jazz, winking at Chrissy.

‘Sod off,’ Juliet replied, collapsing into the beanbag, sending Chrissy into the air. The taste of Marmite stuck in Chrissy’s throat through laughing so much.

‘I might have to head off soon actually,’ she said as the room started to spin. ‘Great party though.’

‘You can’t go yet!’ Juliet shrieked through a mouthful of toast. ‘We’ve got hash cookies for pudding. Or magic mushroom cake if you’re feeling particularly trippy.’

‘Well, I don’t really do that stuff. The odd spliff but—’

She was persuaded to stay nonetheless, and Juliet began asking questions about her love life, music, friends, jobs, usual topics really. Although Chrissy had trotted this stuff out a million times over the past couple of weeks it sounded vaguely interesting when she shared it with Juliet. She seemed particularly keen to hear about Dan, his band and his music. They talked a lot about Dan.

‘So what about you?’ said Chrissy, realizing the focus had been almost entirely on her.

‘Me?’ Juliet took off her hat, shaking out her hair. A trail of shiny black waves fell over her shoulders. ‘Jeez, it’s hot under there.’ She had an olive complexion, dark eyes, and with her hair down she was even more striking. ‘I’ll fill you in sometime, not now.’

Chrissy hadn’t shared those things about Dan with anyone else in Bristol, and the disappointment at not getting anything in return must have shown on her face.

‘I generally don’t tell people my stuff,’ said Juliet, lighting another cigarette. She looked quite forlorn all of a sudden. ‘Anyway it’s very boring, and to be honest no one ever asks.’

Chrissy wafted the smoke away and looked at her watch. ‘I really need my bed,’ she said, attempting to get out of the beanbag.

Juliet managed to stand up before her and held out her hand.

‘Thanks,’ said Chrissy.

Suddenly both Juliet’s arms were draped round her neck and she made her sway in time to the music. ‘You can always crash here,’ she said with a wink. ‘It’s what I normally do.’

‘Thought you were in halls.’

‘I use my room for work mainly. They let me kip down here for free whenever I want.’

She saw Juliet give a nod to a seventies-style punk standing by the door. He looked high as a kite.

‘How come for free?’ she asked.

‘Guess they feel sorry for me. Look, please stay. Come on, it’ll be fun.’

‘No, honestly. I’ll tag along with that lot heading back to Clifton.’

‘What about that coffee then?’ said Juliet, kissing her cheek. ‘When are we next in?’

‘Friday. Do you know Gianni’s?’ She was pleased when Juliet didn’t. ‘It’s on St Michael’s Hill. I recommend the hot chocolate though.’

Juliet followed her to the pile of coats in the corner. ‘Sounds like a date,’ she said, kissing her other cheek as Chrissy was buttoning her overcoat. ‘I’ll give you your notes back then too,’ she added, pretending to throttle herself, making choking noises. ‘So you don’t have to kill me.’

Chrissy looked down at her Docs, embarrassed now for saying that, and gave Juliet a grin.

‘Ooh. One more thing,’ said Juliet, disappearing for a moment. She had found someone to take a photo of the two of them and placed her arm around Chrissy’s shoulder. The Polaroid camera clunked and whirred. After a few minutes it spewed out the picture, wet and shiny, as if by magic. Juliet blew on it, wafting it back and forth then handed it to Chrissy. ‘One for me, one for you,’ she said. So they had to do it all over again.