Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming. June Taylor
surprised when he grabbed it and then wouldn’t let go. The car smelt of regurgitated milk. She wound the window down, hoping that wasn’t too impolite.
‘It’s very dangerous what you are doing,’ said the mother.
The same could be said about her for stopping, thought Chrissy, but she just smiled and let Juliet do the talking.
‘So are you on holiday? Or maybe you have jobs for the summer?’
‘Yes,’ said Juliet. ‘Well, we hope to find work.’
The baby began to emit piercing little shrieks which bounced off the car’s interior and drilled down into Chrissy’s eardrums. Papa gave her a pleading look and she was suddenly landed with it, along with a bottle of milk.
‘Oh!’ she said, trying to look pleased. She waved the bottle in front of its mouth, forcing the rubber teat between its tiny lips. Then, something rather ghastly began to waft up from its nappy. She hung onto her breath for as long as she could, holding her nose to the open window and just praying that she wouldn’t be given that job as well.
Juliet turned round and smiled. ‘Aw look, so cute. Quite the petite maman, aren’t you, Chrissy?’
Chrissy mouthed the words ‘piss off’.
It was a slow journey, and they made several stops, but despite the inconvenience of the baby and its dreadful odours, Chrissy drifted into a contented doze whilst Juliet chatted with the mother in the front. Two free rides across God knows how many miles. Maybe hitch-hiking wasn’t so bad after all.
Five and a half hours later they arrived in Lyon. By now it was dark; it would be impossible for them to get to the coast tonight. They were dropped off at Camping Soleil in Dardilly on the outskirts of Lyon: not far from the Autoroute du Soleil, so they were told.
The woman handed Chrissy a piece of paper with a telephone number scribbled on it. ‘Call me if you want au pair work,’ she said.
Chrissy ripped up the number as soon as they were gone, much to Juliet’s amusement.
It had been a long day and their lack of sleep the previous night was catching up with them, and even though it was dark there was no let-up in the heat. Chrissy let out a loud moan when Juliet helped with her bag, lifting it onto her back. Adjusting the straps made little difference to the soreness in her shoulders. They set off down the dusty track to the campsite.
‘Do you know how to put this tent up?’ said Chrissy.
‘No, do you?’
‘I thought you did.’
‘I thought you did.’
They linked arms, giggling their way into Reception, the smell of barbecues suddenly making them feel ravenous, reminding their poor stomachs that they hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
Chrissy woke in the middle of the night with a stiff neck, scratchy mouth and pounding head. ‘You awake, Ju?’ she whispered, giving herself a scare when the sagginess of the tent touched her face. Juliet had managed to befriend some hippy types who had put the tent up for them, and afterwards they binged on bread and saucisson, getting drunk on ridiculously cheap table wine which they had dragged back from the campsite shop in a large plastic container. ‘Ju,’ she said, louder this time, reaching out to feel for her in the dark.
Juliet was gone.
***
The campsite was full. She stumbled repeatedly over guy ropes and protruding tent pegs; the cheap batteries in her torch were already fading. She went first to the toilet block, calling Juliet’s name every few seconds. Then she tried walking between the tents, up and down, still calling out, startled by every noise or silhouette that moved. She was getting horribly lost too. And soon she would have to alert someone that her friend was missing.
Then she spotted it, the hippy tent: a wigwam-shaped structure they had been in earlier. Cursing as she stumbled towards it, she could hear Juliet’s distinctive laughter coming from inside. She hovered for a while, listening to their voices, eventually satisfied that she could return to her own tent and get some sleep. It took at least half an hour to find it again.
***
‘I was worried sick about you,’ said Chrissy the next morning as they stood at the side of the heat-hazed road, thumbs out, wearing their fake smiles and munching on bits of leftover baguette, clutching a corner of their cardboard sign.
‘So I got an offer to have some fun. What’s the big deal?’
‘You didn’t tell me you were going.’
‘Well, you were fast asleep. Look, if you weren’t with your precious Dan you’d be doing that too. You can’t expect me to live like a nun, Chrissy.’
Juliet tossed two paracetamols down her throat and swigged from a bottle of mineral water that had been perspiring in the morning sun.
‘And why did you give a T-shirt to all four of them?’ Chrissy asked.
‘Because they put the tent up for us, and took it down again this morning. That’s got to be worth something. Come on.’
‘I thought the idea was to sell them, Ju. Did they give you anything besides?’
Juliet raised her eyebrows, as if that should have been obvious, then she pulled a cigarette from behind both her ears.
‘Is that it? Two bloody fags.’
Juliet extracted something from her shorts pocket: a polythene bag full of weed. ‘That’ll keep us going,’ she said. ‘Oh come on Chrissy, you like it too. I got it for us both. And they’re my T-shirts, you know. Lighten up; we’ll get jobs in no time when we get there.’
‘We’ll bloody starve at this rate. And get where exactly?’
A horn honked loudly, speeding past them with an assortment of body parts hanging out of windows. Then whistles, shrieks and more horn blasts as the car seemed to be slowing.
‘What the hell is that?’ said Chrissy.
‘Dunno, but it looks promising.’ Juliet was already running towards it. A Fiat, the size of a bubble, had come to a screeching halt just up the road. ‘Some Italian lads on their way to Spain,’ she shouted back. ‘Quick.’
‘Spain?’
Chrissy had to slow to a walk: a painful stitch jabbed into her side. She didn’t know which was worse: that, or the sizzling heat. Not forgetting the ludicrous weight on her back.
‘Spain, Ju?’
‘They’re going to a wedding but they can drop us at the coast,’ she replied. ‘It’s a gift! Faut pas refuser un cadeau.’
‘We’ll never fit in there!’ said Chrissy, counting five beaming faces, as well as the driver’s.
Juliet had already surrendered her bag. Shortly after, her legs disappeared too. Chrissy eased herself in as best she could. With europop blaring from tinny speakers, windows fully down so they could all take turns to breathe, they were on their way again.
Chrissy felt sorry for the poor boy whose lap she was crushing, although he didn’t seem to mind. Mostly she chatted to him on the journey in English whilst Juliet entertained the others in her fluent Italian. At some point Chrissy must have fallen asleep, as the next time she looked at her watch she saw that they had been going for three hours.
And Juliet was in full snog with one of her new friends.
***
Chrissy was sure she could smell the sea blowing in through the windows. She stuck her head out as they were passing a vast stretch of water. It didn’t look much like the sea.
‘It’s a lagoon,’ said the driver. ‘A salt water lake. Have you heard of La Camargue and the wild horses?’
‘The white ones?’