Dammit, she needs to know… But before Juliette could respond or, more importantly, explain the situation, the line went dead.
Millie would be in a blind panic now. All manner of terrible things would be going through her mind about what Peter had done to upset her so much.
Shitty shit. God, why am I such a drama queen?She slumped against the wall and let her head fall back onto the wet bricks. She clamped her eyes shut and fought the frustrated scream threatening to escape from her throat.
The eveningreallyhadn’t gone according to plan.
Juliette gripped the silver locket with the robin engraved on the front that always stayed round her neck – a gift from Laurie – and wished she could simply turn back the clock.
* * *
The short journey to Millie’s was reasonably calm, apart from the initial barrage of questions: ‘Did he insult you?’ and ‘Did he smell?’ and, finally, ‘Did hehurtyou? Because if he did, I’ll make earrings from his—’
‘No, nothing atalllike that. He was the perfect gentleman.’
‘Well, we’ll get you back to mine and you can tell me all about it.’
‘You can drop me at home, I’m fine, honestly,’ Juliette insisted.
‘You forget how long I’ve known you. You’re clearly very shaken so you’re coming home with me. No arguments.’
Juliette didn’t protest any further. There was no point. Millie was very protective over her since Laurie’s death, and she was grateful to have such a loving friend on her side.
Millie and Juliette had been friends since the first day at university, when, like a fish out of water, Juliette found herself in Gloucestershire to embark upon the next stage of her life, studying English and Creative Writing. It was a far cry from the little village outside the North Eastern city of Durham where she had grown up, and the moment she walked into orientation, she wondered if she had made ahugemistake moving so far from home.
Any worry was short-lived, however, when a well-spoken, smiley blonde girl had informed her, ‘I’m Millie. You and I are going to be best friends, I can just feel it!’ and had subsequently linked arms with her and given her a squeeze. They had been virtually inseparable ever since. Over the years since leaving university, Juliette becoming employed in the library there, and Millie beginning a career in marketing, the friends had grown so close, they considered each other as family. They’d shared student digs and then a rented house; the house where Millie still lived and ran her freelance business from, in fact. Juliette wasn’t sure how she would’ve coped without her since losing Laurie.
Once they were back at Millie’s and Juliette was dried off, she stepped into the cosiness of a pair of her friend’s fleece pyjamas; the picture on the front was a cartoon chicken wearing a nightcap and the slogan readIt’s Motherclucking Bedtime.She couldn’t help giggling as she thought about Millie’s obsession with pyjamas. For most women, it’s shoes and handbags. Not Millie. Give her a cute pair of PJs and she was as happy as a pig in poop! In fact, she probably had a pair with that very slogan on.
When Juliette walked back into the living area, she found Millie sitting curled up on the sofa, wine glass in hand. She too wore pyjamas, but hers were accompanied by an expectant expression. She patted the seat beside her. ‘Come on, I’ve poured you a glass. Tell me what happened.’
Juliette plonked herself down and picked up her glass. She took a large gulp of the ruby-red liquid before recanting the events of the evening…
Alessandro’s was the best Italian restaurant in the area. It was a quaint former pub that was located on the main street of Bourton-on-the-Water, the next village to her home of Mistford, and overlooking the River Windrush. Fairy lights were strewn across the exterior and Italian music drifted out of the open doors. Their home-made pasta was to die for and their desserts orgasmic. She and Laurie had eaten there on numerous occasions over the years and it held many happy memories for Juliette. Mistake number two, after accepting the original offer of a date, had been agreeing to meetthere.
She’d recently met her date, Peter Wilsden, through her colleague, Claire, a happily married mum of two. Her husband was a high-school PE teacher and Peter was his divorced colleague. The photo of him on the school website – eagerly displayed to her by Claire – showed a fairly handsome man with cropped dark hair and smiley eyes. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but Juliette knew better than to expect perfection again after having it once with Laurie. He was a science teacher and, apparently, a really lovely man who had been through a tough divorce the same year that Laurie had lost his battle with cancer.
They had exchanged phone calls and emails and things seemed to be going swimmingly. So, when he suggested dinner, she couldn’t think of an excuse why she shouldn’t go. She’d tried to come up with reasons, but none made much sense and were all down to her own insecurities.
It was strange to be back ‘out there’ and Juliette still had niggles of doubt in the back of her mind. But she knew she didn’t want to be single for the rest of her life and even Laurie had made her promise she would move on. Admittedly, at thirty-four, the prospect of being aloneforeverwas daunting; but not quite as daunting as meeting someone new.
The date had been set and Juliette had done the obligatory internet searches to make sure Peter Wilsden wasn’t a wanted, axe-murdering psychopath disguised as a science teacher, but as nothing had come up, she figured he was eithernota criminalorhe was an extremely good one that hadn’t been caught yet.
Millie had encouraged her to agree to his offer of dinner. ‘You never know, Jules, this might just be the one.’
Of course, she’d had to pull her up there. She’d had her shot at ‘the one’ and he’d died after three wonderful years of marriage. Following her return to work and the realisation that she would never see Laurie in her library again, grief had descended into clinical depression and it had taken a lot to get to where she was now. She was quietly proud of herself and grateful for the help she’d had to come through the other side but she knew there was still a long way to go, and meeting Peter may just be the next step on that journey, she’d figured.
Dinner was arranged for the last Saturday in May and Millie had come around to help her get ready. Although the help had consisted of copious cups of tea and, ‘Ooh, can I borrow this frock, Jules? And this top… ooh, and these shoes!’
Juliette had arrived at Alessandro’s a few minutes late – on purpose. There would be nothing worse than arriving early and appearing desperate. The maître d’ had shown her to the table, but, as she had approached it, she’d felt a little uneasy. The man sitting at the table was almost the spitting image of Laurie. How had she not noticed this before? Was this her mind playing tricks on her now that she was taking the first brave steps towards moving on?
The more she watched him as she walked, the more she tried to see past the initial similarities. He wasn’t Laurie and that was that. However, a niggle in the back of her mind insisted that, from the hairstyle to the clothes, he could have been Laurie’s twin. Except for the fact Peter wasn’t wearing glasses. That was something, at least. If he’d worn spectacles, the man would’ve been a doppelgänger for sure and she wouldn’t have coped with that at all.
He greeted her with a kiss to both cheeks – very fancy – and had even pulled out her chair. A whiff of his aftershave sent her stomach into knots. She’d recognise that Hugo Boss fragrance anywhere. She’d spent the two years since Laurie’s death inhaling it from the dregs of the bottle in the bathroom cabinet, with her eyes closed and fond, yet heart-breaking, memories charging around her mind.
Determined to not let this spoil what could potentially be a pleasant evening, she sat and smiled, answering his questions about her journey and others that pertained to the usual small talk.
The waiter had offered them a wine list and Peter gestured to Juliette. ‘Oh, I think the lady should choose,’ he said with a handsome smile.
