been for the last few months. Actually, I thought we could pay her a visit this afternoon. Violet’s going to mind the little ones for a couple of hours.’
Gemma glanced at the clock in dismay. A couple of hours?
So much for a flying visit.
Juliet led the way into the day room at Greenacres and pulled out one of the high-backed armchairs so Gemma could sit opposite their great-aunt. As much as the thought of that fluffy sweet waiting patiently for Gemma in the depths of Aunt Sylvia’s handbag tickled her, she had more serious reasons for insisting Gemma came here this afternoon.
She wanted her sister to see just how far their great-aunt had deteriorated, hoping – in vain, maybe – that it’d prompt Gemma into spending more time with her family. It wouldn’t be long before Sylvia forgot them both completely.
‘Hello, Aunt Sylvia,’ Juliet said, watching closely as Gemma lowered herself into the chair. She then pulled one round for herself. ‘Look who’s here!’
Sylvia blinked and looked at her new visitor. ‘Gemma!’ she exclaimed and pressed her wrinkly fingers over her mouth while her eyes shone.
‘Hi, Auntie Syl,’ Gemma said. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Too long,’ Sylvia said sharply, but then smiled again. ‘Never mind. You’re here now – that’s all that matters.’ She turned to look at Juliet. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello.’
Sylvia’s brow wrinkled slightly.
Her aunt stared blankly at her for a few seconds before returning her attention back to Gemma. ‘Oh,’ she said suddenly, ‘I just remembered! I’ve been saving something special for you.’ She reached down beside her chair for her handbag and rummaged inside for a few seconds before dropping something small into Gemma’s hand.
It was the punchline Juliet had been anticipating for more than a week, but now the moment had arrived, she really didn’t feel much like laughing.
Of course Sylvia would remember Gemma. Everybody did. It was Juliet who was turning shades of grey, disappearing quietly into the wallpaper of her humdrum life.
Gemma was looking at the object in her palm, a bemused expression on her face. Juliet held out her hand to take it from her. She knew where the bin was and Gemma didn’t. ‘Here, let me …’ She began to rise, but then Gemma dropped the item into her waiting hand and she discovered it was neither sticky nor fluffy. In fact, it was slightly heavy and the tiniest bit cold. Delicate. She looked down at her palm and found a gold and diamond ring sparkling there.
‘I couldn’t possibly …’ Gemma was saying.
Juliet dropped the ring back into Gemma’s hand then stood up and backed away.
Her grandmother’s engagement ring – the one she’d left to Sylvia on strict instructions that their eldest granddaughter would get it when they were both gone.
Despite the protestations, Aunt Sylvia pressed Gemma’s fingers closed around the three diamonds in their rose gold setting. ‘No, you have it. It would look better on a pretty thing like you than on my bony old fingers.’
Gemma’s eyebrows raised slightly, but she didn’t look shocked, or guilty, Juliet realised. Didn’t she know?
Of course she didn’t know. That would involve being present for family events and listening to what other people said, and neither of those things were Gemma’s strong suit. Juliet scowled as Gemma kissed their great-aunt and slid the ring into her pocket. ‘Thank you, Auntie Syl. This means a lot to me.’
And she said it with such a sweet sincerity that Juliet wanted to scream. In fact, she must have made a muffled noise of some sort, because Sylvia turned to look at her again. ‘Didn’t you say you were going to get the tea, dear?’
‘Uh …’ Juliet’s mouth refused to work properly. She swallowed and tried again. ‘I just …’
She had to get away, get out of here. Otherwise she was going to create a scene. And Juliet never created scenes. Even when Greg had left she’d only let big silent tears fall down her face as she’d watched him climb into his car, slam the door and drive away.
She looked towards the day-room door, and then, without deciding to, she was walking. Out of the room, down the corridor and into the small kitchenette that the nurses used to make their tea. Juliet was here so often that they let her use it whenever she visited. She stared at the dull white cabinet in front of her. She knew the teabags were inside, but she didn’t reach out and open the door.
She felt something rising inside her chest, something bitter and dark. This was no bubble of naughty laughter at a fluffy sweet. It was cold, tasting of emptiness. It scared her so much that she squashed it down again, closed her eyes and concentrated on making it disappear.
When she thought she’d finally regained control, she opened the cupboard door, retrieved the cheerful Union Jack teabag tin someone had saved after the Jubilee and made tea for three.
What else could she do?
Helping was what Juliet did. And if people only half-remembered her when she did that, she’d probably disappear completely if she stopped.
Gemma glanced across at Juliet as they drove back to her house from the nursing home.
‘What’s up with you?’
Juliet’s face was a picture of calm, but she was clutching the steering wheel so hard the tendons were standing out on the backs of her hands. She flicked the indicator and sailed round a corner at an even speed. ‘Nothing.’
Gemma could let this drop. That’s what Juliet obviously wanted her to do. And it was the option she usually chose. There was enough tension between the two of them without adding more issues into the mix, but today – because she was feeling a little guilty maybe – she decided to press on. ‘Well, it’s obviously not nothing, because you’ve got a face like a smacked fish.’
Beautifully done, Gemma. You waded in nice and gentle-like.
And then she just kept going: ‘You wanted the ring, didn’t you?’
She regretted that comment the moment it left her mouth. Why had she said that? Why? She’d told herself she was going to tread round the subject carefully, give Juliet the opportunity to tell her herself. She’d guessed that her sister’s mood had something to do with Gran’s ring, because she’d been behaving almost normally up until that point.
‘No,’ Juliet said, but the serene mask was slipping. Her jaw was tense and she glared at the oncoming traffic as she waited to turn right at a junction.
‘Yes, you did. It’s just the kind of old-fashioned stuff you go all gooey over.’
Juliet suddenly swerved into the kerb and stopped, yanking the handbrake on before turning to look at Gemma. ‘It’s not about the ring! Not about the diamonds and gold, anyway …’ She shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh. ‘It’s about … Oh, forget it. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘I’m not a little kid any more, Juliet.
