Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological thriller with twists you won’t see coming. June Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ thing she knew, a whole four hours had gone by and they seemed to be pulling onto the hard shoulder.

      ‘This is where I drop you,’ she heard him say. ‘The turn off for Dijon is in seven, ten kilomètres. You should stay on this road.’

      Chrissy looked out of the window. This really didn’t seem like the ideal spot to try and pick up another lift.

      ‘Here?’ said Juliet, also surprised.

      But they thanked him for getting them this far and he pushed their bags out onto the tarmac, wishing them luck as they jumped down. The traffic thundered past, kicking up swirls of dust.

      ‘Don’t let les flics see you,’ he shouted as he swung his door shut.

      ‘What did he mean?’ yelled Chrissy, rolling her rucksack out of the way of the motorway blast, pinning her hair down with her hand. She got out her Michelin road atlas and felt slightly better, climbing up onto the metal crash barrier where it felt that bit safer.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Juliet screamed. ‘Get your thumb out; it’s the only way out of here, Chrissy. You should dump that. We don’t need it.’

      Chrissy ignored her. She remembered seeing signs for Lyon. At a quick glance she noted it was almost due south of Dijon so this was taking them in the right direction. Slapping the atlas shut again she put it back inside her rucksack and began slowly edging her way towards the wall of traffic. She took hold of her corner of their cardboard sign, trying her best to smile even though she feared for her life. ‘You never said it was breaking the law, Ju.’

      ‘Just look gorgeous and we’ll be on our way again. Laws are for breaking in any case.’

      It seemed like hours before any lift came, but when Chrissy looked at her watch it had only taken twenty minutes for a bright green Renault to come crawling along the inside lane, a line of juggernauts hot on its tail. The one immediately behind flashed its lights at the late indication to pull in, and Juliet nudged Chrissy out of the way just in case.

      It was a French family from a town north of Paris. The mother was driving and the father was in the back, a baby on his knee. ‘Which part of the coast are you trying to get to exactly?’ said the mother, referring to their sign. She spoke French, shouting over the roar of the traffic.

      ‘Montpellier,’ Juliet yelled back. ‘Marseille. That sort of area.’

      The woman raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, we are actually going to the Alps but we have to go via Lyon. Ça vous va?’

      Chrissy nodded to Juliet. She wasted no time in clambering into the front seat with her rucksack, leaving Chrissy to get into the back with Papa and the baby.

      ‘Bonjour, Monsieur,’ she said, trying to smile as she wedged her bag between her legs. She held a finger out to the baby, surprised when he grabbed it and then wouldn’t let go. The car smelt of regurgitated milk. She wound the window down, hoping that wasn’t too impolite.

      ‘It’s very dangerous what you are doing,’ said the mother.

      The same could be said about her for stopping, thought Chrissy, but she just smiled and let Juliet do the talking.

      ‘So are you on holiday? Or maybe you have jobs for the summer?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Juliet. ‘Well, we hope to find work.’

      The baby began to emit piercing little shrieks which bounced off the car’s interior and drilled down into Chrissy’s eardrums. Papa gave her a pleading look and she was suddenly landed with it, along with a bottle of milk.

      ‘Oh!’ she said, trying to look pleased. She waved the bottle in front of its mouth, forcing the rubber teat between its tiny lips. Then, something rather ghastly began to waft up from its nappy. She hung onto her breath for as long as she could, holding her nose to the open window and just praying that she wouldn’t be given that job as well.

      Juliet turned round and smiled. ‘Aw look, so cute. Quite the petite maman, aren’t you, Chrissy?’

      Chrissy mouthed the words ‘piss off’.

      It was a slow journey, and they made several stops, but despite the inconvenience of the baby and its dreadful odours, Chrissy drifted into a contented doze whilst Juliet chatted with the mother in the front. Two free rides across God knows how many miles. Maybe hitch-hiking wasn’t so bad after all.

      Five and a half hours later they arrived in Lyon. By now it was dark; it would be impossible for them to get to the coast tonight. They were dropped off at Camping Soleil in Dardilly on the outskirts of Lyon: not far from the Autoroute du Soleil, so they were told.

      The woman handed Chrissy a piece of paper with a telephone number scribbled on it. ‘Call me if you want au pair work,’ she said.

      Chrissy ripped up the number as soon as they were gone, much to Juliet’s amusement.

      It had been a long day and their lack of sleep the previous night was catching up with them, and even though it was dark there was no let-up in the heat. Chrissy let out a loud moan when Juliet helped with her bag, lifting it onto her back. Adjusting the straps made little difference to the soreness in her shoulders. They set off down the dusty track to the campsite.

      ‘Do you know how to put this tent up?’ said Chrissy.

      ‘No, do you?’

      ‘I thought you did.’

      ‘I thought you did.’

      They linked arms, giggling their way into Reception, the smell of barbecues suddenly making them feel ravenous, reminding their poor stomachs that they hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

      Chrissy woke in the middle of the night with a stiff neck, scratchy mouth and pounding head. ‘You awake, Ju?’ she whispered, giving herself a scare when the sagginess of the tent touched her face. Juliet had managed to befriend some hippy types who had put the tent up for them, and afterwards they binged on bread and saucisson, getting drunk on ridiculously cheap table wine which they had dragged back from the campsite shop in a large plastic container. ‘Ju,’ she said, louder this time, reaching out to feel for her in the dark.

      Juliet was gone.

      ***

      The campsite was full. She stumbled repeatedly over guy ropes and protruding tent pegs; the cheap batteries in her torch were already fading. She went first to the toilet block, calling Juliet’s name every few seconds. Then she tried walking between the tents, up and down, still calling out, startled by every noise or silhouette that moved. She was getting horribly lost too. And soon she would have to alert someone that her friend was missing.

      Then she spotted it, the hippy tent: a wigwam-shaped structure they had been in earlier. Cursing as she stumbled towards it, she could hear Juliet’s distinctive laughter coming from inside. She hovered for a while, listening to their voices, eventually satisfied that she could return to her own tent and get some sleep. It took at least half an hour to find it again.

      ***

      ‘I was worried sick about you,’ said Chrissy the next morning as they stood at the side of the heat-hazed road, thumbs out, wearing their fake smiles and СКАЧАТЬ