“In this case?” she prompted, a touch of impatience to her voice. Clearly Lucy wanted her to ask.
“I think his daughter Bella would appreciate this advice,” Lucy said. “Eventually.”
“Bella?” Juliet stared at her. She’d seen Alex’s daughters in the village, two solemn-faced girls, the older one slouchy and sullen and the younger dreamy and lost. She’d said hello to them a few times, both before and after Anna had died, but that was all. “How do you even know Bella?”
“She came into school yesterday. She’s been suspended.”
“For what?”
“Skipping PE.”
“They suspend children for bunking off PE now?” Juliet asked, and Lucy shrugged.
“I think there’s more to the story.”
“So what advice do you want to give Alex?” Juliet was curious now, in spite of her intention to remain removed.
“Well . . . Bella kind of needs a bra,” Lucy said, and then added, “Actually, there’s no kind of about it.”
Juliet stared at her. “A bra,” she said, without inflection, because that was just about the last thing she’d been expecting.
“I don’t think her father realizes it. Which isn’t all that surprising, really.”
Lucy gave a wry smile while Juliet just stared, and then all of a sudden, because it was so absurd, or maybe because her emotions were so close to the surface, she burst out laughing. Lucy stared at her in shock as Juliet sank onto the bed, her arms wrapped around her middle, and then Lucy started laughing too, her hands pressed to her mouth, both of them in the throes of the kind of silent-shaking, eyes-streaming, helpless laughter that took them over completely.
It felt good to release all the excess emotion. Finally she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and took a steadying breath.
“A bra,” she said. “Poor Alex.”
“Poor me, because I’m the one who’s got to tell him.”
“And he’s got to buy it.” Juliet’s laughter subsided completely then, because while the situation was funny, it was also desperately sad.
Lucy must have sensed the shift in her mood because she asked quietly, “Were you friends with his wife?”
“Anna?” Juliet considered. “I wouldn’t say friends, exactly.” She didn’t know whom she’d call her friend, except maybe Rachel.
Then she thought of Peter’s steady gaze on her as they drank whiskey in his kitchen, and pushed the memory away. “We were friendly,” she told Lucy. “She kept her horse in the stables behind the house and I’d chat with her when she got ready to go riding. She didn’t seem very happy here, though.”
“She didn’t?”
Juliet shrugged. “She spent a lot of time riding, and I got the sense she was more of a city girl.”
“Why did Alex move here, then?”
“Why does anyone move here? Anyway,” Juliet said, rising from the bed, “if Bella really does need a bra, then you have to tell Alex. I don’t think anyone else will.”
“Surely someone . . .”
“He’s a bit of a loner. Works all the time. I’m sure some single mums in the village have set their sights on him, but not enough to do him that kind of favor.”
Lucy grimaced. “Except for me.”
“Except for you,” Juliet agreed. The laughter they’d shared had loosened something between them, and now she felt it inexorably tightening again. “It’s late. I should go to bed.” Which was unsubtle code forGet out of my room.
Lucy nodded; message received. “Thanks,” she said, turning to Juliet, taking a step forward as if she might actually hug her before she stopped. “Thanks for listening.”
Juliet swallowed. Lucy’s gratitude made her feel guilty for how little she’d offered. She nodded, and Lucy headed back to her room. Quietly Juliet closed the door. Her stomach muscles actually ached from laughing. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d laughed like that; she knew only that it had been a very long time.
