Читать книгу Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming - June Taylor - Страница 13

Manchester: 2007

‘Anyway, get yourself ready,’ said her mother. ‘You’ll get the sack if you’re late again.’

Eloise checked her inbox first, before taking a shower. Nothing. And again after her shower. Still nothing. And every five minutes after that. So Juliet had abandoned them already. She could hardly blame her for giving up on her mother. Chrissy was probably the worst friend ever.

Then, just as she was about to turn off her computer, there it was.

From: juliet124ricci@yahoo.com

Dearest Eloise,

I’m sorry, I should have realized that my popping up after all this time would give your mum a bit of a shock. I’ve been trying to find her for so long now. I tried all the usual ways on the internet but she never comes up. I thought she’d disappeared forever. Then one day I had a brainwave, remembered the name of Dan’s band and found their website. After several dead ends and great confusion, which I won’t bore you with, I eventually tracked you down. One of their old band members – good friend of Dan? – gave me an address and a number to try. I can’t tell you how amazing it was to hear your voice yesterday, Eloise.

I was terribly sad to hear about Dan. Is he by any chance your father? You’ll have to forgive me because I know nothing about what happened after Chrissy left university. We were forced to sever all ties. It was a difficult time for both of us. I can’t say any more than that really, except she was a true friend. She did something very important for me once and I never got the chance to thank her, not properly. So I hope that with all these years behind us now, she will want to see me again.

I hope to meet you one day very soon, Eloise. In fact, we have a new collection out so I am currently in the UK promoting it. I will let you know when I’ll be coming North.

Much love to you both

Juliet Ricci

Xx

PS My assistant Laura has just brought in my schedule for next week. I will be in Yorkshire and Manchester on Monday. Scotland Tuesday. I could fly up tomorrow (Sunday) and come and see you if you think that’s at all possible.

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow felt too soon even for Eloise. It would be foolish to rush into anything. But at the same time she didn’t want to lose the opportunity to reunite Juliet and her mother.

It was only after reading Juliet’s email another three times that she trusted herself to reply:

‘Hi Juliet,

Thanks for getting in touch. I’m working on my mum and hope we can meet very soon. Yes, you are right. Dan is my dad and I miss him loads.

Can you make it Monday instead?

Eloise xx

PS Much better if we meet in town. Not here.’

Anywhere but here, she thought. She wandered about their flat, squirming at the mad colour scheme. The furniture in the lounge was looking rather shabby and everywhere needed a fresh lick of paint. The clock in the kitchen no longer worked, the pictures in there were dire: one of spoons dancing, and another of chubby peasants at a country fair. Suddenly these things mattered in a way they hadn’t ever before.

She poured herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. Her throat throbbed from the ice-cold shock.

When another mail landed in her inbox, she pounced:

‘Eloise,

Of course. One thing you should know is that, for Chrissy, I’ll do anything. I’ll get Laura to arrange it.

See you Monday.

Juliet x’

She was already running fifteen minutes late, and Maria would not be pleased, but there was one more thing she had to do before she left.

‘Do I really deserve this?’ said Chrissy, accepting the plate of toast and Marmite.

‘Just wanted to spoil you, Mum.’

Chrissy propped herself against the pillow, her head on one side. ‘You’re turning into such a young woman, Eloise. Smart and beautiful.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Your dad would be so proud of you.’ She turned to his photo by her bedside. ‘I wish he was here to see you grow up.’

‘Me too. Hey, but listen. I can show you a picture of Juliet if you like. She has a website.’ Chrissy gave the duvet a sharp tug. ‘I don’t mean now. I’ve got to go to work.’

Their discussion was interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door, followed by an insistent ringing of the bell. Surely Juliet would not just appear on their doorstep without warning? Not after all that had been said. Was Chrissy having similar thoughts too? She was as white as her pillow.

‘I’m coming,’ shouted Eloise, twisting her ankle in her haste to see who it was.

It was the police.

‘Who is it?’ said Chrissy, coming out in her dressing gown. She froze when she saw the female officer standing there.

Afraid she might faint, the officer quickly stepped inside and helped Chrissy to sit down. Eloise was told to make her mother a hot drink. ‘I’m sorry to give you a scare,’ she said. ‘It was just to alert you about a break-in next door last night, and we wondered if you’d heard anything.’

They told her they hadn’t, that they were in most of the evening, apart from when Chrissy went out for a run, which seemed to fit in with the timing of the break-in.

Everyone got done once on the estate; it was known as ‘the housewarming’. And the next-door neighbours were fairly new, so it was to be expected really. That said, their own flat had never been broken into, not with Chrissy’s stringent security measures, and they had lived in it for more than ten years.

When the police officer had gone, Eloise phoned Maria to say that she would be in work a bit later. Maria was fine once she explained why.

‘I’ll be okay,’ said Chrissy. ‘It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all. You don’t need to stay.’

‘Yes I do,’ Eloise insisted. Her mother’s face had turned a peculiar shade of grey and she was still trembling. ‘I’ll put the kettle on shall I?’

Chrissy nodded and soon they were both settled in the living room with steaming mugs of tea.

‘So,’ began Eloise tentatively, ‘did Juliet meet you in that place for coffee?’

Chrissy gave a tut, rolling her eyes at her daughter’s persistence.

‘Did she? Gino’s, was it?’

‘Gianni’s.’

‘Or I can show you her website.’ Eloise ignored the stab of guilt she was feeling, pushing her mother like this in the state she was in. ‘Your choice, Mum.’