Chapter 15 #2
“Yes. I was thinking of emigrating there, a while back.” Everyone looked at her and Juliet took another sip of wine.
“When was that?” Rachel asked.
Juliet shrugged. “A long time ago, before I moved up here.”
“Sometimes I think we might as well be in Australia,” Lucy said, and Rachel guffawed at that.
“At least there aren’t any poisonous snakes here.”
“There’s adders up Ennerdale way,” Peter ventured, and Rachel gave him a look.
“Did I really need to know that, Peter?” she demanded. “Adders. God help us.”
“Next question!” Rob bellowed, and they moved on.
As the questions rolled on—What is the motto of the British Special Forces?
Who composed the opera Peer Gynt?—Juliet felt herself relax.
Maybe it was the better part of Rachel’s bottle of red she’d drunk, or maybe it was the good-natured joking that flew around her, making her smile even if she couldn’t quite take part in it.
By the time they were exchanging quizzes to mark, followed by lots of teasing about cheating and giving half marks for good guesses, Juliet was feeling loose-limbed and a little bit sleepy.
“You areet, Juliet?” Peter asked, his eyebrows raised. She smiled at him. She felt almost dreamy.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“You’re drunk,” Rachel stated, holding up the empty bottle of wine. “I’ve only had one glass! You owe me, Juliet Bagshaw.”
“Fine,” Juliet answered with a shrug, and Rachel let out a laugh.
“Now I know how to get you to relax. I should have twigged it ages ago.”
Juliet drew herself up, annoyed now that she could sense everyone was laughing at her. “I’m not drunk,” she told Rachel shortly. “I’ve only had a couple of glasses of wine.”
“More like four,” Rachel answered, but she dropped it since they were announcing the winners of the quiz.
Their table missed winning by two. “Still, it was a good showing,” she said as she rose from the table.
“I’ve got to get home and make sure Lily’s done her homework.
Same time next week? We’ll have to come up with a name for our team. ”
“The Cumbrian Quizzers?” Lucy suggested, and Rachel rolled her eyes. “The Seaside Smarties?” she tried again, and Juliet interjected, her voice slurring only slightly:
“How about the Village Idiots?”
“You ought to get her home,” Rachel told Lucy. “If you can.”
“I’ll walk you both,” Peter offered. “It’s on my way.”
Juliet simply sat and watched; she felt so very tired, but also as if the evening were slipping away from her. She didn’t want to go home.
“Come on, then,” Lucy said, and reached for her hand. Juliet shook her off.
“You all seem to think I’m falling-down drunk,” she snapped. “I’m fine.” And she showed them just how fine she was by walking very slowly, very carefully out of the pub.
The evening’s rain had dropped to a misting drizzle and the cool, damp air brought some clarity—not sobriety, since she wasn’t actually drunk.
Lucy and Peter walked on either side of her, and Juliet wondered if they were afraid she was going to fall down.
Honestly. This was what happened when she tried to relax and enjoy herself.
“You areet, then?” Peter asked as they came up to Tarn House, and Juliet whirled around to face him.
“I’m very much areet, Peter,” she snapped. “I’m fine. I had a paltry couple of glasses of wine and everyone’s acting as if I’m three sheets to the wind!”
Her voice, Juliet realized distantly, was ringing out so loudly it was echoing through the empty street.
Peter gave her a small smile. “I was just saying good-bye,” he said mildly, and belatedly Juliet recalled how Cumbrians greeted one another—“you areet” was “hello,” “good-bye,” and “how are you?” all rolled into one.
She knew that. Of course she knew that. She’d been living here for dick years, after all.
“Well, good-bye, then,” she said, rather ungraciously, and turned to go into Tarn House. Lucy followed her, closing the door behind her, and Juliet sank onto the bottom stair, her stomach lurching.
“Juliet?” Lucy dropped the keys on the hall table. “I’ll ask it for real, this time. Are you all right?”
“No,” Juliet half moaned, her face buried in her hands. “I think, to use the Cumbrian word, I might bowk.”
“I think I can guess what that means,” Lucy said. “Do you want me to get a bowl, or can you make it to the toilet?”
Juliet took a deep, shuddering breath. She could feel cold sweat prickling on the nape of her neck and between her shoulder blades, and her stomach lurched again, and then thankfully settled. A little. “No,” she said. “I’m all right.”
Lucy sat down next to her on the stairs. “I think you mean areet.”
“Oh, hell.” Juliet shuddered again. “I was terribly rude to him, wasn’t I?”
“Honestly? No more than you usually are.”
She let out a laugh then that subsided into a groan. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, knowing she would never say this if she weren’t drunk. “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.”
“Oh, Juliet.” Lucy’s voice was soft with sadness and Juliet felt her sister put her arm, rather awkwardly, around her shoulders. “You’re not a bitch.”
“I’m not a very nice person.”
“Not a very nice person, no,” Lucy agreed after a moment, and Juliet couldn’t tell if she was teasing. “But reasonably nice, yes.”
Juliet dropped her hands from her face and pressed her forehead to her knees. “I’ve been living in Hartley-by-the-Sea for ten years,” she said, “and I’ve never gone to a pub quiz.”
Lucy was silent for a moment. “Why do you think that is?” she asked eventually.
“Isn’t it obvious? Because I don’t have friends. I can’t make friends.”
“You have friends, Juliet. Rachel and Peter—”
“I’d barely call them friends—”
“Well, what would you call them, then?” Lucy asked in exasperation. “They certainly seem like friends to me. And maybe Peter could be even more than a friend—”
“Don’t,” Juliet said sharply. “Don’t. There’s nothing between us, and there never will be.”
“And why is that?”
“Just because you’re having some little thing with Alex doesn’t mean—”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “I’m not having some little thing with Alex!”
Juliet narrowed her eyes, although that made her vision even blurrier. “Just where were you last night, then, not coming home until nine o’clock?”
“Oh, nine o’clock,” Lucy retorted, throwing up her hands. “Such a shocking hour.”
“In Hartley-by-the-Sea it is.”
“We had dinner,” Lucy said, dropping her hands. “With Bella and Poppy. That’s all.”
“That’s all? It’s more than I’ve ever had.” And once again she was sounding jealous and bitter. What a shrew she was. Wearily she rose from the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early for breakfast. The Seatons want to be out of here by seven o’clock.”
“I’ll make breakfast,” Lucy offered, and Juliet swung around to stare at her. “Seriously. I have to be up early anyway, and you can sleep in. Sleep it off.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Whatever you say, Juliet,” Lucy said with a smile, and headed upstairs. Juliet didn’t bother answering.