Chapter 16 #3
“So why is this an off day?” she asked. Seeing Juliet look so dispirited made Lucy wonder if her stern sister was as emotional and fallible as she was.
It didn’t seem likely, but it was time they both started talking more honestly.
“No real reason,” Juliet said after a moment, her face still averted, and Lucy let out a sigh.
“Juliet, I know we don’t actually know each other very well, and that you resent my very existence.
Maybe you hate me. I don’t know.” Juliet had not rushed to refute any of these assertions, and taking a deep breath, Lucy plowed on.
“But you still had the kindness and generosity to offer me a place to escape when my entire life fell apart. I hope your life isn’t falling apart the way mine did, but I’d like to be here for you, whatever is going on.
” She paused, considering her next question, not sure if she wanted to lob that particular grenade into the conversation.
But it was there already, so she asked, “Is this about Fiona?”
Juliet let out a trembling laugh. “No, actually, it’s not. Not directly, anyway. Not everything is about our mother, despite what she thinks.”
Lucy smiled at that. “I don’t think anyone has dared tell her that. So what is it about?”
“Can’t I just have an off day, no explanation needed?” Juliet asked, a familiar edge of irritation entering her voice. “Maybe it’s just PMT.”
“I assume that’s the same as PMS?” Juliet shrugged and nodded. “If it was, why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”
The kettle startled whistling shrilly and Juliet rose from the window seat, her face now set into its usual stern lines. She grabbed the kettle from the Aga and made them both mugs of tea. Lucy waited.
“I was thinking about having a baby,” Juliet said abruptly, and Lucy blinked.
“Okay,” she finally said, her tone cautious. Juliet raised her chin a notch.
“Our mother did it, didn’t she? She was a single mum both times round, and I think I could be a much better mother than she ever was, at least to me.
” She fetched the milk from the fridge and poured some into both mugs before thrusting one towards Lucy.
“You don’t think so,” she stated flatly, and Lucy blinked again.
“Think what? That you won’t be a better mother than Fiona? No, I definitely don’t think that. But,” she added, “you’re not setting the bar very high.”
“You have no idea,” Juliet answered grimly, and Lucy set her mug of tea on the table.
“Then tell me, Juliet. Tell me about you and Mum. Not just about the stupid pony party, but what was really going on. Why do you think she didn’t want you?”
Juliet stared down at her mug of tea. “Because she told me,” she said, and she didn’t sound angry, only tired.
“Told you?” Lucy repeated “Like, actually said—”
“Yes, Lucy. She said, and I quote, ‘I never wanted you.’ Satisfied?”
Lucy didn’t know why she was surprised. Their mother had shown just how insensitive and cruel she could be on many occasions, and yet .
. . she’d still been their mother. Amidst all the awfulness and disappointment, there were a few happy memories from her childhood.
She could picture her mother dancing around the kitchen after she’d sold a sculpture, and once they’d emptied a gallon of strawberry ice cream straight onto the table and sculpted it into funny shapes before digging into the mess with two spoons.
A few times Fiona had sat by her bedside while Lucy had gone to sleep, usually talking about the art world, which had mystified her as a child, yet she’d just been so pleased to have her mother there.
Yet now it seemed as if Juliet had no happy memories at all. “When did she say that?” she finally asked.
“When I pushed and pushed her to name my father. I came over to see you both in the States. I was twenty.”
“That visit,” Lucy remembered. “You left so suddenly—”
“I didn’t feel much like staying, after that.
” She bent her head towards her mug, closing her eyes as the steam from the tea hit her face.
“I don’t know why it shocked me, to have her say it.
She’d certainly shown me every day of my life.
” She opened up her eyes, looking up to give Lucy a bleak smile.
“Honestly, I don’t even know how I survived my childhood.
She must have fed and bathed me as a baby, kept me in nappies.
But I can’t imagine she did it happily.”
“Why do you think . . . ?” Lucy began, and then stopped. The question she’d been about to ask wasn’t exactly sensitive. Juliet, however, guessed it anyway.
“She had me? Kept me, even? I have no idea. I wish she hadn’t. I’d probably be less screwed up if I’d been adopted.” She rose from the table and dumped her tea in the sink. Her sister was clearly angling to end their cozy little chat, but Lucy wasn’t going to give up just yet.
“You’re not screwed up, Juliet.”
“No?” She braced her hands on the sink and stared out the window at the sheep fields, the dirt track twisting between them. “Maybe no more than the average person, I’ll grant you,” she said after a moment. “But it’s enough to be going on with.”
“And this idea for a baby?” Lucy ventured. “What’s that about?”
“What do you think it’s about? My biological clock is ticking. I’m thirty-seven with limited fertility—”
“Limited fertility—,” Lucy began to ask, and Juliet pressed her lips together in a line.
“I’ve only got one Fallopian tube, and endometriosis besides,” Juliet said, and turned around. “No matter how I go about trying to get up the duff, it’s not going to be easy.”
“You could adopt,” Lucy suggested, and Juliet just shrugged. “How come you only have one Fallopian tube, anyway?”
Lucy didn’t think her sister was going to answer, and now that she thought about it, the question had been rather personal.
Then Juliet said tersely, “I had an ectopic pregnancy eleven years ago. The tube burst then. It was lucky I got to keep both my ovaries.”
Lucy stared at her in shock. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment.
“Surprised, eh?” Juliet cracked a small, bleak smile. “What about? That I could have been pregnant, or that I had someone in my life to make me pregnant?”
“Well, both actually,” Lucy admitted, not quite joking. “Were you . . . was it serious?”
“It bloody well was. I almost died.”
“I meant . . . the relationship?” Although after this conversation she was going to Google ectopic pregnancies, because she really didn’t know anything about them, except that they were dangerous. Obviously.
“Oh.” Juliet shrugged. “Not really. Sort of. I don’t know.” She let out a sudden, harsh laugh. “He was married. Not to me.” She raised her eyebrows at Lucy. “Now you’re really surprised.”
“Well . . .” Okay, yes, she was. For a lot of different reasons. “Tell me about it,” she said, and Juliet laughed again.
“What is there to tell? He was married. I knew he’d never leave his wife.”
“Was this here—”
“No, in Manchester, while I was working for a big hotel. He was in management there.”
“Did you love him?”
Juliet thought about this for a moment. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t think I did.”
Lucy pondered too, about how different she and Juliet really were. Juliet kept herself from loving people, while she swan-dived into the emotion with abandon and glee.
“What about the baby?” she asked Juliet. “Did you . . . did you want the baby?”
Juliet’s face contorted for a second and then her expression ironed out. “Yes,” she said tonelessly. “I wanted the baby.”
“Oh, Juliet . . .”
Juliet shrugged off any sympathy Lucy had been about to give. “It was a long time ago.”
“But it must have been awful,” Lucy said quietly. “Going through that alone . . .”
“Yes,” Juliet agreed after a slight pause.
“Yes, that part wasn’t much fun.” She took a deep breath and then continued, her voice low.
“The man in question wasn’t keen on me having a baby, of course.
He wanted me to have an abortion, and when I refused, he stopped speaking to me altogether.
I didn’t mind so much then, but when I was in hospital with the burst tube and I was unconscious .
. .” She paused, her gaze shuttered and distant.
“The hospital called him, as my emergency contact. And he refused to come.”
Lucy’s heart ached to imagine Juliet alone in the hospital, her very life in danger, and the father of her would-have-been child refusing even to see her. No wonder her half sister had a few issues.
“I’m so sorry,” Lucy whispered. And then, because she wanted to show her sister that she wouldn’t reject her, she stood up and opened her arms up for a hug. Juliet simply stared. Lucy started walking towards her.
“What are you doing?” Juliet asked, her voice cracking.
“I’m giving you a hug, silly.”
Juliet stood woodenly while Lucy put her arms around her, and didn’t soften into the hug in the least. After a moment Lucy took her arms away and stepped back. So maybe they’d try that again someday.
“So, you still want a baby.” Juliet eyed her warily and said nothing. “What are you going to do about it?” Lucy asked.
Juliet hesitated, and then answered, “My appointment in Carlisle a few weeks ago was at a fertility clinic. I was looking into going the sperm donor route.”
“Oh, don’t,” Lucy cried, and Juliet raised her eyebrows.
“Why not? It seems a sensible option.”
“Because I hated not having a dad. I still do. Even kids with divorced parents have someone, you know. A deadbeat dad is better than nothing, a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”
“You can contact a sperm donor when you turn eighteen. Did you think about doing that?”
“Thought about it,” Lucy admitted. “But I never did. It just seemed too . . .” Risky. She didn’t really need another parent in her life who wasn’t interested in her. “Didn’t you wish you had a dad?”
Juliet frowned. “I wished I knew who my dad was.”
“And don’t you think your child would be the same?”