Page 73 of A Part of Me and You
Still Juliette doesn’t take her eyes of the picture and I notice her hands are shaking even more now. She glances at Sarah and then at me and then she puts the photo back into the envelope and sets it on the table.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask her. ‘Oh, Juliette maybe this is all too much for you?’
‘I feel a bit sick,’ says Juliette, putting her hand to her face.
‘Me and my big fat mouth,’ says Sarah. ‘I’m really so sorry. I should have handled that all more sensitively. It’s totally my fault. I’m sorry.’
‘No, no it’s nothing to do with that at all,’ says Juliette, her eyes still fixed on the envelope.
‘Shelley, can you come here a second?’ calls Rosie from the bar and I look at my friends and then back at Rosie and then back at them again.
Sarah shoots me a look that tells me to go to Rosie so I do what I am told and make my way to the bar. I’m scared right now. I don’t know what is going on in Juliette’s head or how sick she really is feeling but I don’t like this feeling one bit. Sometimes I wish I could have just stayed numb forever.
Juliette
I watch Shelley go to my daughter who is showing her something on her phone to great delight and they glance at the door and the room begins to spin, reminding me of that drunken night when I was here before and the room was spinning then just the same. I feel drunk but of course I can’t be. I blink and lift the envelope again. Then I take out the picture, stare at it some more and I put it back again.
‘It’s painful, I know it must be,’ whispers Sarah. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing by bringing the photo here tonight but my timing was off as usual. I’m always putting my foot in it, even my husband says so’
‘No,’ I tell her. ‘That’s not it at all. You meant well. It’s not your fault, Sarah.’
I take a deep breath. The music is grating on my brain now. The accordion and the fiddle and the second fiddle, it all sounds like squeaky noise now – I wish they would just stop and be quiet. None of it sounds good anymore and my head is so sore. I need to get out of here fast. I can’t take any more of these surprises and curveballs in my life. I can’t take any more of this bar and this place and these people.
Then the door of the bar opens and in walk my sister and my husband and I really think I am going to faint.
‘Dan?’ I whisper.
‘What’s wrong, Juliette?’ Sarah asks me. ‘You really don’t look very well. Do you want to go now?’
‘Dan! Aunty Helen!’ says Rosie. ‘At last! Come and meet Shelley!’
‘It’s not him,’ I say to Sarah, staring at the envelope at the table again.
‘What?’ asks Sarah, lifting the envelope like I have made some mistake. ‘This is Skipper, darling. This is the guy we knew as Skipper who used to come here on the boat each summer?’
I feel dizzy. Rosie is waving at me. I look back at the photo. It’s a blur and it makes no sense. This is all a big mix-up.
‘It’s not him,’ I repeat to her.
‘Mum! Look who’s here!’
‘Are you sure this is Skipper?’
‘I’m sure,’ says Sarah. ‘I have no doubts. It’s him.’
The room begins to spin. I don’t know what to think now.
‘That may be the man known as Skipper in that photograph, Sarah,’ I whisper to Shelley’s friend. ‘But it’s not my Rosie’s dad. I must have got this all very wrong or else the man I met lied about his name.’
‘Why on earth would he lie?’ asks Sarah. ‘Juliette, are you okay? You look like—’
Sarah’s words are muffled and blurred. I can’t make out what she is saying because my head is spinning and everything is a whirl in front of me. So Skipper, or the man who told me his name was Skipper, is not dead at all?
I hear a familiar voice calling to me. It is Dan. Oh thank God for Dan!
‘I’m here, Juliette,’ he says. ‘Let me help you and get some fresh air.’
‘Helen?’ I mumble.
