It became clear to Renée, once they were back at her aunt’s house, that Juliette really wasn’t going to talk about anything she’d discovered, or otherwise, at Somerset House – not now or, it seemed, later. It was strange how she’d clammed up like that – what could she possibly have found out that was so traumatic? A thought came to Renée then – what if her mother actually had turned out to be famous, joking aside? Or what if Juliette had known her mother; maybe she’d found out it was her neighbour or grandmother or something. Perhaps she’d discovered who her father was too, it wasn’t always the case that it was ‘father unknown’, and there was something shocking about him. Renée was almost desperate to know.
‘How was your day today, girls?’ asked Linda as she stood at the stove stirring something comforting-smelling, a blue-striped butcher’s apron tied neatly over her regulation jeans and white T-shirt. The aroma of paprika mooched through the air.
‘What did you get up to?’
‘Oh, you know, a bit of shopping around Covent Garden, not much really.’
‘I think you’re forgetting something,’ said Juliette then, and she sounded uncharacteristically harsh, pent-up. ‘We went to Somerset House, didn’t we, Renée?’ She turned to Linda, whose face was flushed, from cooking presumably. ‘I don’t know if you know, Linda, but I’m adopted. Renée, for some reason, is obsessed with where I came from, so she forced me to go to Somerset House and –’
‘I didn’t force you,’ Renée cut in, horrified. ‘I thought you were happy to go.’
‘Well, you were wrong,’ said Juliette, but her anger had faded now. She knew she was being unfair – she’d only realised that she didn’t want to do it once she’d done it, after all.
Renée looked close to tears, and Linda reacted quickly. ‘Right, who’d like a nice cup of tea?’ she asked.
‘I’m not obsessed with where you came from,’ said Renée, ignoring her aunt. ‘I was just trying to help – I thought you said you’d feel better once you’d found out.’
Juliette knew Renée was right, she had consented, in fact had even been keen just a few hours earlier, but it seemed when it came down to it she wasn’t ready to go there, not yet. It was strange how before all this adoption business Renée had seemed so in tune with her, had appeared to understand her more than anyone else in the world. But thinking about it, who else would get her? She had no blood relatives after all; there were no genetic connections to help anyone read her deepest feelings. She felt embarrassed now at her outburst, especially in front of Renée’s undeserving aunt.
‘Don’t worry, Renée, I’m sorry I got so emotional, I don’t mean to take it out on you. I just don’t think I’m ready to do this, after all.’ She turned to Linda. ‘I’m so sorry, Linda, I’m not usually such a nightmare, I promise.’
‘No, no, that’s fine,’ said Linda. ‘You don’t have to apologise to me. Look, it’s none of my business, but it’s a big deal what you’ve done. Don’t be too hard on yourself.’
‘Sorry, Renée,’ said Juliette again, as Renée just sat there, hiding under her orange fringe.
‘That’s OK,’ muttered Renée, and the ever-obliging Linda served them tea and home-made fruit cake, and as snowflakes started to fall gently on the street outside and disappear into tiny shiny pools upon reaching the pavement, the crisis passed, for now.