Chapter 30
“That was a- mazing ,” said Charlie, sighing contently and sinking back into the train seat as he and Jules started their long journey home.
On the little table between them were celebratory cans of gin and tonic, a large bag of Jelly Babies, and a similar-sized
bag of Reese’s Pieces. They had both agreed it was all too much of a red-letter day for a sensible supper, even supposing
Paddington station shops had anything approximating real food.
“So, what’s the Codex Leicester?” asked Jules, now that they had settled down to examine the extraordinary events of the day.
“Only a seventy-odd-page notebook written by Leonardo da Vinci himself,” said Charlie, his eyes shining. “It was full of his
diagrams of stuff he wanted to invent and his mirror writing—that was one of the things that made it obvious it was him.”
“Cool,” said Jules, impressed. “And it was auctioned?”
“Sold to Bill Gates for about thirty million dollars,” pronounced Charlie.
“Cool,” said Jules again. “Why Leicester?”
“Owned by the Earl of Leicester,” explained Charlie. “Don’t know how he ended up with it. I suppose possession counts for everything. The grimoire will probably be known forevermore as the Capelthorne Grimoire. There’s a thought.”
“At least that will preserve the Capelthorne name. Nothing else will, at this rate,” said Jules, a little glum all of a sudden.
There was a silence while they both pondered.
“I mean, obviously, Bridget Capelthorne isn’t exactly up there with Leonardo da Vinci,” said Jules.
“No, fair,” agreed Charlie.
“But if Richard could get a five-figure sum, six figures even...”
“Yeah, maybe...” said Charlie cautiously.
“Then, let’s just say, Aunt Flo would have a few options,” said Jules, hardly daring to dream.
They were both stiff, tired, and cold by the time the train drew into Portneath station at ten o’clock that night. Jules was
surprised and relieved to see Roman on the platform, waiting for them. As she drew closer the smile fell from her face. Roman
was looking grimmer than she had ever seen him.
Her eyes asked the question for her.
“It’s Flo,” he said gently. “She’s been taken ill. I got her to the hospital. They’ve been waiting for you to come.”
“Oh God.” Jules clamped her hand over her mouth. She felt hideously sick and dizzy. Aunt Flo! She knew she wasn’t well, and she had still just left her on her own all day.
“What’s the matter with your phone?” Roman asked as he handed her gently into the front seat of his car, with Charlie climbing
in the back.
“I had it on silent because we were in a meeting,” she confessed, digging it out of her backpack and switching it on to see
a bunch of notifications as Roman had tried desperately to message and call her. “Tell me exactly what’s happened,” she said,
as they swung out of the station car park.
“I dropped in to see her at lunchtime,” said Roman as he drove, fast, toward the hospital.
“I was there with the loss adjuster looking at the fire site, so, yeah, I dropped in. Luckily the shop door was unlocked. I found her in the office, looking deathly white. She was insisting she was fine, and then she collapsed in front of me.”
Jules gave a little groan.
Roman put his hand on her leg, whipping the steering wheel around with one hand to swerve into the hospital car park, where
he parked across two bays, as close to the accident and emergency department door as he could get.
“I got an ambulance,” he went on. “They turned up pretty quickly, but...” Here his eyes locked on to Jules’s before he
continued. “Listen, my love, her heart stopped, okay? They had to shock her. She came around. I’ve been talking to her. She
knows you’re on your way.”
With Roman’s arm tightly around her, Jules could barely feel her legs as they rushed into the department, with Charlie bringing
up the rear. As if by prearrangement, Roman just nodded at the hatchet-faced receptionist who waved them through the double
doors to the department.
In contrast to the waiting area, accident and emergency was humming with industry, but it was preternaturally hushed and muted.
Roman took them both to a curtained-off cubicle at the end of the corridor. Slipping between the curtains, Jules, for a heart-freezing
moment, thought Flo had died. She looked so tiny and pale, lying on the bed in a hospital gown, with wires and tubes all over
her. Her eyes were closed and sunken, but—as Jules gasped in shock—she opened her eyes, turned her head, and smiled weakly.
“Darling girl,” she mumbled, as if the effort of talking was almost too much. “What a fuss this all is.”
“Fuss?” Jules echoed, as she sat on the side of the bed and took Flo’s hand in her own. “I hear you’ve been making a right spectacle of yourself.”
“I have, I’m afraid.” Flo smiled. “And this one”—she tiredly indicated Roman—“has been a lifesaver. Literally.”
“So, what now?” asked Jules, looking around. Where was everyone? Why wasn’t somebody actively doing something to make her
aunt better?
“They’re keen to take me to the ‘path lab’ or the ‘cath lab’ or somewhere,” Aunt Flo murmured. Talking was clearly exhausting.
“I’ve had a tiny heart attack, and my arteries are bunged up, mortifyingly. A few too many cream teas, I expect. They’re going
to put in stents, and then I’ll be good as new. It’s amazing what they can do these days.” Her eyes fluttered closed, and
she seemed to drift off for a few moments.
Her own heart pounding, Jules waited, holding Flo’s soft, cool hand in her own strong, warm one as if the very connection
between them could fill the old woman with the vitality that seemed to be draining from her.
Flo sighed, her eyes opening again. “I’m so glad you’re here, darling. It’s a tonic to see you. How did it go today?” she
asked, as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.
“ Really well,” said Jules, squeezing Flo’s hand. “All good. Charlie and I will tell you the details.”
At this, Roman, standing by the opening in the curtain, crooked his finger at Jules, indicating she should go with him. She
got up, leaving Charlie to take her place.
“They’ve been waiting for her to see you before they take her up,” Roman murmured to her.
“It’s straightaway?”
“It’s before straightaway, but, Jules, I need you to understand.
..” His eyes locked on hers, his warm hands placed heavily, comfortingly, on her shoulders now.
“Things aren’t looking good,” he said slowly, waiting for his words to sink in before he continued.
“She could go at any moment, and inserting the stents is not without risk.”
Tears flooded her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily with the back of her hand. “She can’t see me like this,” Jules said,
sniffing and straightening her spine.
“Good girl,” said Roman. “Now go back in and tell her you love her. I’ll let the team know she’s ready to go.”
It was an agonizing wait, but relief flooded through Jules as soon as she saw the smile on the doctor’s face as he came to
give them a report. By the time Flo had been sent up to the cardiac ward to rest, Jules was so exhausted she felt as if she
were underwater. Movement was slow and effortful; speech indistinct. She barely remembered Roman taking her back to the shop
and putting her to bed.
After such enormous events, the routine of the next few weeks felt odd. Flo was back at home now, fractious at being refused
permission by Jules to be in the shop. Instead, she was confined to the flat, where—hearing that Freya and Finn had announced
a pregnancy—she frustratedly knitted the baby an extensive wardrobe, becoming enmeshed, despite herself, in the daytime drama
repeats on the television.
The only way Jules could cope with the excitement of the coming auction was to pretend it wasn’t happening and bury herself
in the challenges of running the shop. She was slowly disposing of the stock by means of flash sales: crime books one week,
romance the next. She spent a lot of time in the stockroom too, clearing out and packing up any books she could persuade the
publishers to take back in return for a refund.
She and Flo were avoiding speaking about the grimoire. Jules knew that Flo felt bad about letting such an important item go out of the family, but she was desperate to improve her aunt’s financial situation, and selling the grimoire seemed the only way.
Graham had also been horrified to hear of Flo’s illness and had been decorously laying siege, turning up at the shop with
beautiful bunches of late dahlias from his garden and healthy treats, such as Scottish oak-smoked salmon from the deli, and
taking Flo, well wrapped against the mid-autumn chill, for short, slow walks along the gusty seafront.
Jules and Roman were back to spending every moment together that they could—not having elaborate dates, but hanging out quietly,
going for walks, chatting for hours and hours, sometimes just sleeping in each other’s arms. Flo, insisting she needed to
regain her independence, was encouraging Jules to spend time with Roman up at the chapel in Middlemass. There, they felt cocooned
in their own little world.
Despite the desperate situation, and the almost certain imminent loss of the shop, Jules couldn’t remember a time she had
ever been so happy.
Roman was busy dealing with the authorities and insurance company over the fire damage to his shop. The Montbeau family decision
had been to carry out structural repairs to the extent that the shop was a refurbished shell and then find another business—any
business—to rent it. The all-too-brief era of The Portneath Bookshop was over. For a while Jules felt resentful that the Montbeaus
had been so quick to let go of a project that had wreaked such havoc on her own family’s lives. On the other hand, it had
also been directly responsible for the existence of Roman in her life, so she stifled her feelings.
“It’s time you met my family,” Roman said one morning over a breakfast of eggs Benedict. Poaching eggs the proper way, swirling them into a pan of boiling water, was another of Roman’s many talents, Jules was impressed to see. The plan he proposed that morning, however, was terrifying.
“Or,” she suggested, “you and I could just go away and spend the rest of our lives together, and I could never, ever have
to be in the same room as the rest of your family. Ever.”
“Hmm.” Roman pretended to consider, with his head to one side. “Impractical? I think you’re gonna have to face up to them
at some point. Dad can be contrary, I’m not denying that, but Mum’s an absolute sweetheart.”
Jules frowned, making Roman laugh.
“Plus, I’ll protect you,” he added, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he put her plate in front of her.
Despite Jules’s reservations, an arrangement was made for her to join the extended Montbeau family for Sunday lunch later
that week.