Was she? Sitting down to pull on her outdoor shoes after doing gym, Juliet pulled up the laces with a jerk. She was lucky, yes of course she was, she told herself fiercely, to have a mother who had been an actress and to go home every evening to a house full of her well-known and glamorous friends. But...
all Juliet ever wanted was to have a normal life. Juliet was 14 and beautiful, just like her mother. She had long blonde wavy hair, which she always wore tied back in a ponytail, blue eyes and tanned skin from being on so many summer holidays. Almost every day she wore her blue and pink leotard because Juliet was a gymnast, but her mother....
was always listening to her friends talking about their books, pictures, plays; going to the premieres of their films - Oh yes; it was lovely, but.....Juliet sighed again. The trouble was that you never quite knew what you were going back to.
As Juliet finished tying her laces, her gymnastics coach, Karen, came over to her and asked "why hasn't your mother signed the form for your gymnastics competition?"
"I don't know..." responded Juliet "I'll ask her to sign it tonight".
Juliet felt heartbroken as she knew her mother wouldn't sign the form.
"Oh don't worry Juliet, I'm sure your mum will sign the form tonight and you'll be able to compete at the weekend." Said her best friend Bethany.
"See, I'm not so lucky, am I?"
"How about you come round to my house" asked Bethany.
"OK" said Juliet. Anything was better than going home to her house that was filled with her mothers friends.
Juliet loved visiting Bethany's home, untidy with babies and dogs and toys; and the friendly old climbing trees in the garden. Juliet's garden at home was lovely, but you couldn't really play in it, at least not in the way that Juliet liked to play. It was all so beautifully arranged that you could imagine people walking there and talking, or having their portraits painted, as Juliet's mother was doing at the moment, but not turning cartwheels, or standing on their heads.
When they arrived at Bethany's house, her mother was preparing pasta for dinner.
"Mum, can Juliet please stay for dinner?" Asked Bethany
"Of course she can." Replied Bethany's Mum.
"Only if that is ok." said Juliet, she never wanted to be a burden.
"Why don't you two go and play in the garden and I will call you when dinner is ready."
Juliet loved going over to Bethany's house because it meant that she could go and practice her gymnastics. She also loved Lara, Bethany's Mum and wished her own Mum was more like her.
Going back home later for Juliet was like going out of a sheltered alley into the full force of a gale and you never knew which way you were going to be blown next. Not that she would have changed it, she told herself with fierce loyalty. Her mother was the most wonderful, the most exciting person in the world. Outside her door Juliet paused to listen. She wondered who would be there today and what she might be expected to do? Sometimes it was fun and the visitors laughed and joked with her, but sometimes they would be feeling serious and make her play her latest piano piece to them, to see if she was developing any talent. This evening, to her relief and surprise there was nobody there. An evening all alone with her mother, telling her stories about the theatre, about romantic foreign places that she would one day take her to, would be wonderful, and happened all too rarely. Today, sure enough, as she tiptoed into the drawing room, her mother came forward with her finger on her lips. As Juliet hugged her, rubbing her face against the silk and getting a whiff of delicious scent, her mother hugged back again for a minute and then bent down to whisper.
"Mr. Franciso!" she said dramatically, pointing upwards. "In the studio!" Finishing my portrait for next week's exhibition!" and, miming a few brush strokes with one hand, said "You will have to be very quiet this weekend!"
Juliet thought that this would be her chance for her to ask her mother to sign the form as she would probably say yes, because she did say she wanted her to be quiet this weekend and being out of the house would make her very quiet indeed!
Juliet was excited at the thought of being able to compete in the competition this weekend.
"Oh, Darling, Mr. Francisco would like to paint your portrait this weekend!" Said her Mother.
"But....but"
"No buts!..."Said her mother in a strict tone "It is time for the world to see my beautiful daughter!"
Juliet was distraught, How could she let her team down.
"I don't want my portrait painted" cried Juliet "Nobody wants to see a portrait of Juliet!"
But Mr. Francisco! Then it really was important. Even among all the famous people his name stood out and when he said he wanted to paint a picture of Juliet's mother she had been tremendously pleased and flattered. The sittings had all taken place whilst Juliet was at school, first in the garden and then in the old attic which had been rigged up as a studio, and to Juliet, who longed above everything else to see this portrait of her mother in the making, the attic had become forbidden territory.
"Come" said Juliet's mother we will go and ask him about painting your portrait as well as finishing mine this weekend. At first Juliet thought the studio was empty, then, in a chair at the back she saw the figure of Mr. Francisco. Was he asleep? She stared curiously; he was slumped forward with his hair coming through his fingers in spikes. Then, as she saw him gently rocking himself backwards and forwards, she realised that he wasn't. His position was all too familiar, he was doing just what she did when she couldn't get out a maths problem or think what to say in an essay. He looked up.
"Ah Julietta".....(Julietta was Juliet's mother).
In the Hush, her mother squeezed Juliet's hand. "He doesn't want us up here any more," she whispered. "The face is finished, he's just touching in the trees behind. "Take a plate out into the garden and play there," she said.
Juliet escaped, loaded with sandwiches, into the garden. She skirted round the house and went in through the back door to reach her playroom. She climbed out of the playroom window.
Juliet's house had been built to a Spanish design and the blue-tiled roof was much lower than those of the houses next door. A large skylight over the hall made a completely flat bit in the middle, along the bricked edge of which someone with gymnastic abilities could easily walk if she was careful, and to each side of it there was the gable of the attic room with a safety balustraded little balcony outside.
Ever since Mr. Francisco had been in the attic Juliet had been trying to get a glimpse of the painting but he always left the window fastened and the easil and its canvas at an angle which made it impossible for her to see.
As she looked across from him to the easel she saw that he had changed its angle at last, so that it was facing more towards the window. If she moved forward a little more and leant right up against the glass, she could probably get a glimpse of the painting, see what his worry was all about. Yes, she could. The edge of her mother's cheek, the highlight on her pearl earrings.....but it was the eyes she wanted to see. Those were the most important things about anybody's picture. Juliet pressed further forward. Unlatched for once, the French windows swung inwards and sent her flying, to land with a tremendous crash and lie spread-eagled among bottles and paints and brushes.
She lifted her face from a rag covered in turpentine just in time to see Mr. Francisco take his head out of his hands. Oh dear, what would he do? To have disturbed someone as important as he was, on such a special work! Juliet scrambled nervously back on to her hands.
The painter stared at her distractedly for a moment, opened his mouth, so that Juliet trembled for what he might be going to say, and then suddenly started to laugh.
"Well, I'm very pleased to see you," "But tell me, my friend, why you didn't fall through that?"
Fall through the canvas? Through her mother's portrait? Juliet stared back at him shocked.
He watched her. "You look," he said. Juliet went over and stood in front of the portrait. There was a long pause. He was still looking at her, his eyebrows raised.
"Well," began Juliet miserably, for she suddenly knew that with Mr. Francisco you could only be honest, and not polite, "The shape's very like her, but.....". "I know," said Mr. Francisco, "You don't have to tell me. She is not inside."
He looked at Juliet and saw how longingly she was looking at his brushes and paints. Far better than maths, far better than essays, and almost as much fun as the gym, she liked painting.
"You like to try?"
Juliet swallowed hard, then nodded, and her new friend put a new canvas up on the pegs.
"What will you do? Portrait of Julietta? Now you show me how YOU would begin.
This was easy! Juliet knew just exactly what she wanted to do. She looked for a colour, loaded the brush and then splashed it across the canvas, a lovely bold upwards line that ended in a spluttering burst of blobs. That was her mother! She knew she could never manage to copy people's faces but she didn't want to, what was the point? They wore their faces, anyway, for everyone to look at; what she wanted to paint was what they made her think of. And this lovely rose red and those exploding sort of stars and fireworks - yes that was her mother all right. But then she suddenly remembered; she was painting with Mr. Francisco, she ought to be doing all the things that they told her to do at school. She looked up nervously, and saw that the painter had taken up another brush.
"Good. Yes," "That is exciting like she is, but she is very kind too?" and he filled in a pattern with a gentler, softer swirl, which was exactly right. "And smells nice...…" Remembering the things that you first noticed about her mother Juliet tried out something which was meant to be a branch of white flowers. With enormous yellow middles, she thought, making them so with satisfying splashes of paint, and then, to show that it was summer, she added a bee.
But this is wonderful! A completely new style - how can I thank you Juliet?"
Juliet explained about how she would love to enter the gymnastics competition at the weekend but her mother wouldn't sign the form.
"Leave it with me Juliet. I shall explain I am too busy preparing for my exhibition to paint your portrait and, of course, children are not allowed at my exhibitions."
Later that evening:- "Ah, there you are dear! I have signed that aurthorisation form for you to compete at the weekend. I just hope Bethany's mother will be happy to take you."
Juliet couldn't wait to tell Bethany the good news.
And the painting.
"The colour!" the critics were saying, "the depth and the balance! So like you, Julietta dear."
"Allow me to congratulate you Mr. Francisco!"
"This is something totally new, the most exciting bit of work I've seen for a long, long time!"
If only they knew.
