Chapter 2 #2
A moment later, inevitably, the phone she had pushed into her jacket pocket chimed.
Almost reluctantly, but unable to resist attending to it, she flicked the screen into life, where she found nothing more exciting than an email from her local health food shop, offering fifteen per cent off nuts and seeds until Monday.
She had no idea how she had come to be on their mailing list, but they were one of her most faithful correspondents.
Maybe she should start visiting; a healthy lifestyle felt appealing given her sorry state that morning.
Nevertheless, she hit ‘delete’ and then started flicking through her photos from the night before.
‘Ha!’ she said out loud, as she looked at the first one. ‘You didn’t see that coming.’ She continued scrolling. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise Soph had come! Oh, Dad, those cocktails looked good, but they really were dangerous.’
She would have continued dissecting the photos if a movement by the archway entrance hadn’t caught her eye.
‘Hello!’ she said. ‘Is someone there?’
A man appeared in the doorway, a slight smile on his face.
She jumped slightly and lost her grip on her phone, which slipped out of her hand.
She grabbed for it a couple of times, but it bounced further out of her grasp and slithered away down her skirt to the floor.
As she leant forward to retrieve the damn thing, her head spun, and she clutched it and her treacherous phone at the same time.
Praying she wasn’t going to be sick, she slowly straightened up and forced her eyes to focus on the man, whose eyebrows had shot upwards at her antics.
‘Are you all right?’ he said, in an accented voice, tinged with humour. ‘I’m sorry, I did not mean to disturb you.’
The man was a complete stranger, but undeniably handsome in a rather lived-in way, with his shaggy hair and humorous face with its wide mouth and brown eyes.
Juliet knew that she must look completely mad, sitting on a bench, alone, wearing last night’s dress with dishevelled hair and a face most likely smeared with mascara, whilst babbling away to herself.
She was, unusually for her, thrown, and this made her speak more sharply than she had meant to.
‘Who are you? This is private property.’
The man came a few steps closer, his smile broadening, and Juliet started to panic, wondering if he was going to hurt her.
God knows, since the time Toby had lost his temper and grabbed her, his hand raised as if he was going to hit her, she was wary of it ever happening again.
The man seemed to sense her fear and stopped, holding up both his hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘Please, let me explain. My name is Léo Brodeur.’ He pronounced it Lay-o, in the French manner, which explained the accent.
‘I am staying here, working with Sylvia to open a cookery school. I had come out on this lovely morning to collect some apple blossom for a recipe we are developing.’
Relief washed over Juliet.
‘Oh, of course, yes, Aunt Sylvia did tell me. I’m Juliet.’
He beamed now.
‘Ah, the sister who lives in London and draws such witty cartoons for the newspapers. Enchanté.’
Juliet gave a small smile, and he continued.
‘Some birthday flowers arrived at the house for you this morning – is today the actual day?’
She stiffened. Did he know that she had asked Sylvia to throw them away?
Was she going to have to explain that they were from her horrible ex-boyfriend, and even the thought of them made her feel sick?
Her eyes darted around the garden as she tried to think what she should say next, without telling this stranger her private business.
But then she looked back at Léo and saw no malice or nosiness.
Breathe, she told herself. It’s an innocent comment, he’s not trying to trip you up, and he’ll think you’re mad if you start rambling on about a bunch of flowers.
Forget the flowers. She forced a smile and spoke casually.
‘Mmm, yes, it’s my birthday today, but we thought Saturday was a better day for the party.’
He nodded.
‘Oui, it was quite the party last night, was it not? I helped Sylvia with some of the food, but I do not think you remember seeing me.’
His eyes were amused, and Juliet tried to draw herself up, fighting a fresh wave of nausea that came with the movement.
‘No, I don’t. Sorry.’
He raised one eyebrow.
‘No matter. I myself am sorry to see that you still suffer after the excesses of the party. I have an excellent drink I would be happy to make you; it will make you feel better.’
Was he laughing at her? Juliet could feel the irritation rise in her tired body. Who did he think he was, interrupting her peaceful reverie to make fun of her hangover?
‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I just need to have a shower and get changed; I have a meeting to get to, so if you’ll excuse me.’
She stood up too quickly, causing the blood to rush to her head, and felt herself swaying.
Clutching at thin air, she thought she was going to fall over and complete her humiliation, when she felt a hand grasp her arm and another wrap firmly around her shoulder.
The brown eyes were now so close to her that she could see the warmth in them, tinged with concern, but also unmistakably amused. Because of her.
‘Are you all right, Juliet?’ asked Léo. ‘Maybe you should sit down again?’
She pulled away from him and tightened her jacket around her slender body. To her horror, she felt tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, a culmination of her hangover, her confusion at being back at Feywood and her humiliation in front of this handsome French chef.
‘I’m fine,’ she said shortly. ‘Thanks.’
And she stomped off in as haughty a manner as she could summon up, given her weakened condition. Léo’s voice floated after her across the garden:
‘I hope to see you later, Juliet, and that you will be feeling better.’
She didn’t turn, or answer. She hated being seen like this, unkempt and unwell, and his obvious amusement at her sorry state had compounded things. She very much hoped she would not see Léo later, or ever again, preferably.