скачать книгу бесплатно
Chrissy lunged for her glass and turned her body round to face Eloise, who was slightly regretting this tactic now. It had crossed her mind to mention that she thought she had been followed, but didn’t dare do that now; it would only play into her mother’s paranoia. Besides, it was just in her head, so hardly worth a mention.
‘No, nothing’s happened. I’m fine. I’ve just been wondering about your friend, Juliet, and what she did after uni. Have you any idea?’
Chrissy polished off her wine and poured herself another. ‘Is that what you want to talk about, Eloise? Because if it is I’m not in the mood.’
Eloise wished she had taken the bottle away now.
Chrissy was looking at her awkwardly. ‘Listen, I’m sorry for slapping you,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘It’s okay,’ Eloise replied, knowing her mother’s guilt was to her advantage. ‘So, when will you be in the mood?’
But instead of answering, Chrissy sank another large mouthful. Before leaning back again, she began rearranging the cushions behind her, pulling out the little yellow bear, a present to Eloise from her dad. It had become a game of theirs, putting the bear in unusual places so the other person would find it: in the biscuit tin, swinging from a light fitting, it could even be found hiding in a pocket. A smile spread across Chrissy’s face at the discovery, and Eloise felt herself softening towards her again.
Her cheeks were still flushed from her run, hair swept back in a ponytail and tiny beads of sweat glistened in the fine creases around her mouth. Eloise wished she had her mother’s lips; they were heart-shaped and she was lovely when she smiled. This thought saddened her all of a sudden, although she didn’t quite know why, not until she started speaking. ‘Do you remember, Mum, that time when Dad told me you’d gone running? I thought he meant you’d run away, like forever, and were never coming back. I cried for days.’
She put down her glass and pulled Eloise into her side. ‘I’d never run away from you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, ’course I do,’ Eloise replied, leaving it a moment before adding: ‘But I don’t know why you run away from everyone else. Why won’t you see Juliet? She’s your best friend.’
‘Was.’
‘Okay “was”, but you said yourself that you never fell out.’
Chrissy stood up. ‘I’m going to run a bath,’ she said. She left the room clutching her glass, and Eloise tossed a cushion across the floor.
‘Damn thing,’ said her mother, shaking her head at the trickle coming out of the hot tap.
‘Can’t you just tell me?’ said Eloise, kicking the doorframe.
Chrissy sank down onto the side of the bath, tucking her hands between her thighs. ‘Look, do you have to keep on at me, Eloise?’
‘Just tell me why you don’t want to see her again.’
‘Because …’
She let the word drift into the sound of the water. The tap was flowing now, which seemed to soothe her, then she remembered her wine and tipped the final dregs into her mouth. Eloise took the glass out of her hand and put it down by the sink.
‘It’s complicated,’ said Chrissy. Her face was red from the steam and from rubbing it so much. ‘Anyway, it’s not possible to see her again.’
‘Of course it is, Mum. You just get in touch and say—’
‘It’s not possible.’
She made a chopping motion with her hands as if to say ‘The End’. It caught the stem of the glass, clattering it into the sink.
‘I’ll sort it,’ said Chrissy, shunting Eloise out of the way.
Eloise backed off, her hands up in submission, and went to get some newspaper. When she returned, Chrissy was holding out the remnants in her T-shirt.
‘Oh, you’ve cut your finger,’ Eloise remarked as the glass clinked down onto the paper.
‘It’s nothing,’ she replied, giving her finger a suck before folding the newspaper into a parcel. She held out her injury for Eloise to inspect. ‘Think I’ll live, don’t you?’ Putting her hand to Eloise’s cheek, she added, ‘I know you’re curious.’
‘Well then tell me!’ she snapped, swiping Chrissy’s hand away. ‘Or maybe I’ll just ask Juliet myself.’
‘Don’t think you can blackmail me,’ said Chrissy, narrowing her eyes. Her lips also had a habit of drawing in when something bothered her, which they were doing now.
‘What are you going to do? Slap me again?’
Chrissy looked down at the vinyl flooring, the edges starting to curl where it wasn’t stuck down properly. She let out a sigh before she spoke. ‘Look, I will tell you about Juliet. But …’ She raised her hand to prevent Eloise from butting in. ‘… but you can only hear it from me. Do you understand that? Never Juliet. Just give me some time to think.’
‘You’ve had twenty years to think, Mum!’
‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘Please, that’s all I ask.’
Eloise nodded, though she was unconvinced. Suddenly a vision of herself, twenty years from now, forced itself into her head. Still crouched by this bath beside her mother, never having left home. Never having a life of her own. She had always thought it was because of her father’s death that her mother was this way, but perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, Juliet was the key – and Eloise had no intention of letting the opportunity slip away.
***
A sharp triangle of light cut across Eloise’s bed where the curtains had not quite come together. She had slept lightly in any case, waking up in a panic, trying to unlock a door that she could never quite reach.
Pulling back the curtains she opened the window to let in the familiar hum of traffic. It sounded different this morning, as if it were going somewhere meaningful and not just the dreary commute into Manchester.
Eloise shuffled into the kitchen, grinning to herself, checking her phone as she went.
‘Don’t you have to get yourself to work?’ asked Chrissy when she was presented with a mug of tea, and Eloise climbed into bed next to her.
‘It’s Saturday, you know.’
Chrissy reached for her alarm clock, spilling tea on the bed. ‘Oh fuck!’ she blurted, setting the mug down and then smiling at Eloise, remembering her as a cross little girl with a swear box. ‘Sorry, Eloise. I meant fluck,’ she insisted.
‘Well, I’ll let you off if you tell me some more. I want to know about that party Juliet invited you to. Did you go?’
Her mother began folding the duvet into neat rolls, focusing on the wall opposite as though she could see images projected onto it.
‘I did,’ she said finally.
CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_57798cbf-7acc-5584-978a-78800e98b12b)
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.
CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_a1a949e0-f518-5002-9af3-15a5280e5d18)
Manchester: 2007
