‘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.
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