Chapter 27
With the dawn came something like the resumption of normal life, with a flurry of noise and light. A new cohort of staff came
into the department, brisk and efficient. Jules, desperate to get back to Flo, wheedled a reluctant discharge from a fresh-faced
junior doctor. He flicked through her chart and then Roman’s, eyeing them both suspiciously.
“Okay, you can go,” he told them at last. “But if anything gets worse, especially any breathlessness, coughing up black stuff, dizziness—you come straight back in, understood?”
Jules nodded meekly, while Roman scowled, looking keenly at Jules as she jumped off the bed, ready to swoop in and catch her
at the first sign of unsteadiness.
A kindly nurse let Roman keep the scrubs, as his clothes were shredded and blood-soaked, and even more kindly provided a set
for Jules so she didn’t have to resort to going home in her filthy pajamas. Even so, they both smelled like a barbecue and
looked as if they had been up a chimney.
“Your place or mine?” quipped Roman half seriously, as they waited for Terry the Taxi to pick them up.
Jules took a deep breath of the sweet, fresh dawn air before she answered.
It was going to be a beautiful day: the first rays of the golden autumn sun were lighting the turning leaves.
Everything looked brighter to her, the sky bigger, the future infinitely more optimistic as she slipped her hand into Roman’s.
“Mine, if that’s okay?” she said. “Aunt Flo will fret until she sees me with her own eyes.”
“Aye, aye,” said Terry, winding down the window as he drew up. “What on earth have you two been up to?”
He beadily noted the joined hands and grinned as he got out to open the door for Jules with an elaborate bow.
“Flippin’ heck,” he exclaimed as they related their tale. “I’d heard the shop had gone up. No one killed, which is a blessing
and a bit of a miracle. Makes you realize what’s important, don’t it?” he added, giving Jules a knowing wink in the rearview
mirror.
Flo came running far too quickly down the stairs, throwing her arms around Jules and pulling her into the tightest of hugs.
For a woman who was not generally demonstrative, this illustrated enormous relief, thought Jules, feeling guilty at what she
had put her through. After several seconds, Jules gently detached herself and held Flo at arm’s length. “I’m fine,” she told
the old woman firmly. “Really and truly, I am. Actually”—she let Roman pull her into a sideways hug—“I’m more than fine.”
“Ah,” said Flo, clasping her hands tight as she looked at them both. “How lovely.”
“Not sure Mum’s going to agree,” said Jules, pulling a face.
“I’d pay good money to be there when you tell her,” joked Flo.
“We’ll make it a double bill,” chipped in Roman. “We can break the news to my dad at the same time and sell tickets.”
“But why are we just standing here, you must be starving,” Flo told them, chivvying them up the stairs to the flat. “When
I heard you were on your way I popped over to Freya’s for croissants. Baked last night—they’re still warm.”
In the flat, they discovered Charlie, pushing down the plunger on the French press. “Coffee all around,” he said, taking in the body language between Jules and Roman. “So, you guys... ?” he went on, eyebrows raised.
Jules grinned shyly.
“Smooth.” He nodded contentedly, a grin spreading across his face.
The little round table in the sitting room was laid with a basket of croissants and pains au chocolat wrapped in a gingham
napkin. There was also a dish with a big yellow pat of butter, a jar of homemade blackberry jam, and a jug of frothy, hot
milk for the coffee.
Jules, who had been eating very little in previous weeks, tucked in greedily. It seemed even her appetite was heightened today.
She listened, munching as Roman took the other two through the key points of the night, as they gasped, wide-eyed with shock.
“And you two,” declared Flo with an ecstatic smile, looking first at Jules, then Roman. “At least something good came out
of it.”
Jules blushed, ducking her head, but she couldn’t seem to remove the smile from her face.
“You are both so lucky to be alive,” Flo went on, putting down a piece of buttered croissant queasily as she reflected further. “I can’t begin
to imagine...”
“Hey,” said Jules, putting her hand on top of Flo’s, feeling her soft skin and prominent bones with a twinge of angst. “We’re
both fine.”
Then Jules noticed Roman stock-still, gazing out the window over to the scene of devastation on the other side of the street.
There were traffic restrictions causing issues, now that the rush hour was at its height, and smoke still twisted from the
blackened timbers, rising lazily into the blue sky. A lone fire engine was in attendance, with a small crew patiently raining
water on the embers.
“I’m so sorry,” said Jules, tears of empathy springing into her eyes.
Roman roused himself from his reverie and looked around the table at the three of them. “Doesn’t matter,” he said briskly. “Just bricks and mortar at the end of the day.”
“But such a beautiful building,” said Flo. “And all the money you put into the refit. It was stunning.”
“It’s what insurance is for,” said Roman.
“That’s true. Was it...?” asked Jules anxiously.
“Yeah, pretty sure...” said Roman. “I’ve got to get back to the chapel at some point today. There are some bits of paperwork
there that I can check. Fortunately, it wasn’t all in the office at the top of the shop.”
“And what about all the staff?” pressed Flo.
“They’ll be out of a job,” said Roman soberly. “I’ll make sure they get a decent payoff, and they’ll just...” A thought
struck him. “I don’t suppose you’re hiring?” he asked Jules, only half joking.
Of course, she thought. Capelthorne’s was the unrivaled bookselling queen of the high street again now. Somehow the thought didn’t make
her as happy as she would have expected. It didn’t change anything really, on that score. The shop was still going to have
to close by Christmas. Perhaps the Montbeaus would set up another bookshop here. Perhaps Roman would even run it. Her skin
prickled in a moment of fierce rivalry, a fleeting return of her feelings toward him when she had arrived that winter.
“You’ve still got a few months,” said Roman, reading her thoughts. “I think last night demonstrated an awful lot can change
in a few months.”
“Yeah, we will have sold off a lot more of our stock by then,” said Jules, thinking how very modestly the stock sell-off had
contributed to Flo’s savings so far.
“And there’s some decent antiquarian books to sell. I’ve got the best ones for us to take to London tomorrow,” said Charlie.
“The valuations are going to be... interesting.”
“True,” said Jules, slightly more optimistically. And Roman was right. Lots could change.
“You need a shower,” said Roman to Jules, draining his coffee and plonking the mug down on the table decisively.
“Rude,” Jules replied mildly, and then yawned.
“Exactly,” said Roman, noticing. “And then bed.”
“Whoa, you guys,” quipped Charlie, “not in front of the children.”
Roman chuckled. “I’m serious,” he said to Jules in a low voice. “Get some sleep.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got things to do,” he told her, getting up and stacking crockery to take it into the kitchen.
“I’ll run you a lovely, hot bath, darling,” Flo told Jules, disappearing off to the bathroom.
At the top of the stairs, Roman caught Jules in his arms and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.
“Don’t go!” she pleaded.
“Give me today,” he said. “Let me sort out this mess. I have to put wheels in motion—I don’t even know what started the fire...
And I have to see my parents. They deserve to be told face-to-face about us.”
Jules didn’t need him to tell her what he meant.
“I love you,” he murmured.
“Love you back,” replied Jules, resting her head against his chest.
And it just felt so right.
Nearly dozing off in the bath, Jules—who never, ever napped in the daytime—was immensely relieved to put on the clean pajamas
Flo put out for her before slipping between the cool, soft sheets. The golden autumn sun poured in through her window, lighting
her face, but Jules closed her eyes against it, and within seconds she was gone.