Pure Juliet Read Free Page B

well, didn’t she? And was she nervous?’
    ‘Course not.’ Juliet gulped orange juice.
    ‘Were you – top, would it be – in any of the subjects? What were they?’
    The faded eyes, behind the spectacles of the strongest power available, fixed themselves greedily on the young face, as if passionate to draw from it information about a world, ideas,habits, of which their owner was ignorant. Behind the glare of curiosity there was a hint, too, of piteousness: I am so old , said the look. And helpless. And helpless, for all my five servants and my faithful Sarah. Helpless.
    ‘Oh’ – Juliet used her tongue to dislodge a fragment of lettuce – ‘mathematics, physics, chemistry – that kind of subject. I got five As.’
    ‘And did you expect to – is that exceptional, dear? Five As? You must forgive your old auntie, she isn’t “brainy”, like you. You know, at my school, the North London Collegiate, only the cleverest girls studied science. That was more than sixty years ago . . .’
    Juliet pushed the tray aside and drew her knees up to her chin and circled them with her arms, in her first gesture that evening suggesting youthfulness. She wanted a cigarette, but decided against asking; there would be a fuss, probably a lecture.
    ‘Five As is good,’ she said. ‘ Very good, they said at the school.’
    ‘But didn’t you find those scientific subjects very dry, dear? And such hard work, all those figures . . . I never was any good at arithmetic. I used to cry over my sums. Wasn’t I a silly-billy?’
    ‘Course they aren’t dry – they’re ever so interesting. Easy, too. Only . . .’
    Juliet paused, and her gaze moved away from the eager old face into some other world. Her own face became expressionless.
    ‘Are you thinking about – him, darling?’ the old lady said softly, in a moment.
    ‘Who?’ The thoughts, whatever they had been, vanished beneath Juliet’s eyes, like some unknown species of fishdarting down into fathoms of icy water. ‘Who do you mean – him?’
    ‘Silly Auntie thought perhaps there might be some young man – some boy, don’t they say nowadays? – that her girlie was . . . very fond of.’
    ‘Chr—! Course not, Auntie. I don’t like boys, they’re always making a row. Me and Mum, we have a joke about that, see, ’cos she says I take as much notice of boys as if they was elephants, and I say, if they was elephants, I’d take a bit more notice.’
    She smiled. Her little teeth flashed: the too-white teeth of the child fed on the wrong food.
    The old lady was looking bewildered. ‘Do you like elephants so much, then, dear?’
    ‘Not all that. But better than what I do boys.’
    ‘“Better than I do boys,” Juliet. Not “what I do”.’ Her voice was gentle as ever, but authoritative.
    ‘Better than I do boys.’
    ‘You see, my darling’ – lifting a tress of silver-gold hair – ‘you’re such a lovely girl . . . and I want my girlie to talk as prettily as she looks. You don’t mind my telling you about these little faults?’
    ‘Course not, Auntie.’ Juliet was staring down at her shabby jogging shoes. They were dirty, and the side of one of them was split.
    A procession entered, with Sarah, looking disapproving, at its head. She was followed by the white-coated servant, carrying a silver bucket from which peered the head of the magnum. A young man was negligently flourishing a grubby white cloth to wipe up spilt drops; he had found a red plastic carnationsomewhere and stuck it in his buttonhole. Three pretty young women were carrying glasses.
    Their employer clapped her hands feebly. Her face had suddenly gone pale from exhaustion, but seemed to be shining from inward joy.
    The white-coated servant set down the bucket on the table, copying the demeanour of an English butler seen on television, and, beckoning imperiously to the girls, took two glasses (which needed polishing) and handed them ceremoniously, one to the old lady and one to Juliet. He