Pure Juliet Read Free Page A

not a smile of sweetness.
    Juliet crossed towards a door on the left. It was of dark wood, like the panelled walls. The hall had a pseudo-antique appearance; its many old portraits lacked distinction, and the long oriental carpets had the hard colours of modern work rather than the silky dimness of the real thing.
    Sarah had disappeared.
    Juliet gently opened the door, there was a pause, then a soft old voice exclaimed: ‘Why, it’s my girl! Darling! I was getting so worried!’ and Juliet went forward into the room.
    A long face, irresistibly suggesting that of a sheep, below silver hair, smiled at her from a wheelchair drawn up to an electric fire. The room was stiflingly hot, in spite of the summer heat outside; the occupant of the chair’s skeletal arms were bared to the elbow by a long dress of blue silk.
    Juliet went up to her, sank to her knees beside the chair and, putting her arms round the thin old body, lifted her face passively to receive kiss after lingering kiss, while she shut her senses against the odour of verbena toilet water and eighty-year-old flesh.
    ‘You’re really here! I can’t believe it, let me look at you – that lovely, lovely hair – how long is it since you were here, my darling?’
    ‘Easter, Auntie.’
    ‘I couldn’t believe it when I got your letter – how can your mother bear to part with you?’
    Juliet sat back on her heels.
    ‘Five of us, Auntie, and no dad. ’T’isn’t easy for her.’
    ‘Yes. Yes. Oh that was a day blessed by God, when I saw the sun shining on your hair . . .’ She leant forward, with difficulty, to lift a tress in her knotted fingers. ‘My girl! Here at last. My lovely, lovely . . . daughter .’
    The last word came out reverently, as if she spoke of something sacred.
    ‘What have I done,’ she went on, quaveringly, ‘that God should be so good to me?’
    She paused to wipe her eyes, while Juliet, moving no closer, made vague sounds that might have been intended for comfort.
    ‘Ah, here’s Sarah – and Rosa with your supper, dear – we can’t call it dinner, it’s only something light, but you must be hungry. I told Sarah to save some chicken, the nicest part. Now you eat it up, my darling, while I watch you.’
    Sarah, looking more than sour, prowled in silence finding small unnecessary things to do while the plump, pretty Rosa set down a tray on a low table, smiling shyly at Juliet. With the air of one being at home, Juliet got up and fetched a tuffet covered in rose-red brocade, and arranged it beside the wheelchair.
    Chicken and salad, with fruit and a glass of orange juice, were set out appetizingly, and, settling herself on the tuffet, Juliet began to eat, while the sheep-face watched with an expression of the purest, foolish delight.
    ‘Time for your bed, Miss Addy,’ Sarah said. ‘Close on nine.’
    ‘I know that, Sarah, thank you,’ the old lady said sharply. ‘I’m staying up.’
    ‘Upset yourself – you know what Dr Masters said.’
    ‘It won’t hurt for once. I’m so happy, and this is a special occasion.’
    ‘Please yourself.’
    Sarah was going out of the room when her employer said, in a different voice: ‘Sarah!’
    ‘Yes, Miss Addy?’ turning sulkily.
    ‘Ask Antonio to bring up a magnum of champagne – and eight glasses. We’re going to celebrate.’
    ‘Champagne! There’s none chilled, and it’ll kill you, this time of night.’
    ‘In half an hour, Sarah, please. And tell the other servants they are to be my guests.’
    Sarah stalked out. Her hands were at her sides, but her expression raised them in the position of those of the old steward in Hogarth’s painting.
    Juliet had not watched any of this tiny drama, nor noticed the deliberate use of the expression ‘other servants’; she was eating.
    In a moment the old lady said: ‘And so you passed all your examinations, darling?’
    Juliet, with her mouth full, nodded.
    ‘A levels, they call them now, don’t they? I’m sure my clever girl did