Juliet. Anne Fortier

by one of her mint-green mud masks that had dried to a crust on my face.

      ‘You know,’ she had grimaced impatiently, ‘your last chance to pop the cherry. That’s what prom’s all about. Why do you think the guys dress up? Because they like to dance? Puh-leez!’ She had glanced at me in the mirror, checking her progress. ‘If you don’t do it at prom, you know what they say. You’re a prude. Nobody likes a prude.’

      The next morning, I had complained about a stomachache, and as the prom came closer, my pains grew worse. In the end, Aunt Rose had to call the neighbours and tell them that their son had better find himself another date for the evening; meanwhile, Janice was picked up by an athlete called Troy and disappeared in a smoke of squealing tyres.

      After listening to my moans all afternoon, Aunt Rose began insisting that we go to the hospital in case it was appendicitis, but Umberto had calmed her down and said that I did not have a fever, and that he was certain it was nothing serious. As he stood there next to my bed later in the evening, looking at me peeking out from underneath my blanket, I could see that he knew exactly what was going on, and that, in some strange way, he was pleased with my scam. We both knew there was nothing wrong with the neighbours’ son as such, it was just that he did not fit the description of the man I had envisioned as my lover. And if I could not get what I wanted, I would rather miss the prom.

      ‘Dick,’ Janice now said, stroking Mr Gallagher with a satin smile, ‘why don’t we just cut to the chase. How much?’

      I did not even try to intervene. After all, as soon as Janice got her money, she would be off to the eternal hunting grounds of the bushy-tailed wannabe, and I would never have to set eyes on her again.

      ‘Well,’ said Mr Gallagher, stopping awkwardly in the car park, right next to Umberto and the Lincoln, ‘I’m afraid the fortune is almost entirely tied up in the estate.’

      ‘Look,’ said Janice, ‘we all know it’s fifty-fifty down to the last nickel, okay, so let’s cut the crap. She wants us to draw a white line down the middle of the house? Fair enough, we can do that. Or,’ she shrugged as if it was all the same to her, ‘we simply sell the place and split the money. How much?’

      ‘The reality is that in the end,’ Mr Gallagher looked at me with some regret, ‘Mrs Jacobs changed her mind and decided to leave everything to Miss Janice.’

      ‘What?’ I looked from Janice to Mr Gallagher to Umberto, but found no support at all.

      ‘Holy shit!’ Janice flared up in a broad smile. ‘The old lady had a sense of humour after all!’

      ‘Of course,’ Mr Gallagher went on, more sternly, ‘there is a sum put aside for Mr…for Umberto, and there is a mention of certain framed photographs that your great-aunt wanted Miss Julie to have.’

      ‘Hey,’ said Janice, opening her arms, ‘I’m feeling generous.’

      ‘Wait a minute.’ I took a step back, struggling to take in the news. ‘This doesn’t make any sense.’

      For as long as I could remember, Aunt Rose had gone through hell and high water to treat us equally; for heaven’s sake, I had even caught her counting the number of pecans in our morning muesli to make sure one of us didn’t get more than the other. And she had always talked about the house as something that we, at some point in the future, would own together. ‘You girls,’ she used to say, ‘really need to learn how to get along. I won’t live forever, you know. And when I am gone, you are going to share this house.’

      ‘I understand your disappointment,’ said Mr Gallagher.

      ‘Disappointment?’ I felt like grabbing him by the collar, but stuck my hands in my pockets instead, as deep as they could go. ‘Don’t think I’m just accepting this. I want to see the will.’ Looking him straight in the eye I saw him squirming under my gaze. ‘There’s something going on here behind my back.’

      ‘You were always a sore loser,’ Janice broke in, savouring my fury with a catty smile, ‘that’s what’s going on.’

      ‘Here.’ Mr Gallagher clicked open his briefcase with shaky hands and handed me a document. ‘This is your copy of the will. I’m afraid there’s not much room for dispute.’

      

      Umberto found me in the garden, crouched under the arbour he had once built for us when Aunt Rose was in bed with pneumonia. Sitting down next to me on the wet bench, he did not comment on my childish disappearing act, just handed me an immaculately ironed handkerchief and observed me as I blew my nose.

      ‘It’s not the money,’ I said, defensively. ‘Did you see her smirk? Did you hear what she said? She doesn’t care about Aunt Rose. She never did. It’s not fair!’

      ‘Who told you life was fair?’ Umberto looked at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Not me.’

      ‘I know! I just don’t understand – but it’s my own fault. I always thought she was serious about treating us equally. I borrowed money.’ I clutched my face to avoid his stare. ‘Don’t say it!’

      ‘Are you finished?’

      I shook my head. ‘You have no idea how finished I am.’

      ‘Good.’ He opened his jacket and took out a dry but slightly bent manila envelope. ‘Because she wanted you to have this. It’s a big secret. Gallagher doesn’t know. Janice doesn’t know. It’s for you only.’

      I was immediately suspicious. It was very unlike Aunt Rose to give me something behind Janice’s back, but then, it was also very unlike her to write me out of her will. Clearly, I had not known my mother’s aunt as well as I thought, nor had I fully known myself until now. To think that I could sit here, today of all days, and cry over money. Although she had been in her late fifties when she adopted us, Aunt Rose had been like a mother to us, and I ought to be ashamed of myself for wanting anything more from her.

      When I finally opened it, the envelope turned out to contain three things: a letter, a passport, and a key.

      ‘This is my passport!’ I exclaimed. ‘How did she…?’ I looked at the picture page again. It was my photo all right, and my date of birth, but the name was not mine. ‘Giulietta? Giulietta Tolomei?’

      ‘That is your real name. Your aunt changed it when she brought you here from Italy. She changed Janice’s name, too.’ I was stunned. ‘But why?…How long have you known?’ He looked down. ‘Why don’t you read the letter?’ I unfolded the two sheets of paper. ‘You wrote this?’ ‘She dictated it to me.’ Umberto smiled sadly. ‘She wanted to make sure you could read it.’ The letter read as follows:

       My dearest Julie,

       I have asked Umberto to give you this letter after my funeral, so I suppose that means I am dead. Anyway, I know you are still angry that I never took you girls to Italy, but believe me when I say that it was for your own good. How could I ever forgive myself if something happened to you? But now you are older. And there is something there, in Siena, that your mother left for you. You alone. I don’t know why, but that was Diane for you, bless her soul. She found something, and supposedly it is still there. By the sound of it, it was much more valuable than anything I have ever owned. And that is why I decided to do it this way, and give the house to Janice. I was hoping we could avoid all this and forget about Italy, but now I am beginning to think that it would be wrong of me if I never told you.

       Here is what you must do. Take this key and go to the bank in Palazzo Tolomei. In Siena. I think it is for a safety deposit box. Your mother had it in her purse when she died. She had a financial advisor there, a man called Francesco Maconi. Find him and tell him that you are Diane Tolomei’s daughter. Oh, and that is another thing. I changed your names. Your real name is Giulietta Tolomei. But this is America. I thought Julie Jacobs made more sense, but no one can spell that either. What is the world coming to? No, I have had a good life. Thanks to you. Oh, and another thing: Umberto is going to get you a passport with your real name.