Chapter 16
As they enjoyed a coffee after the meal, Emile came to join them and regale them with scurrilous and thoroughly indiscreet stories about the celebrities who had visited his restaurants over the years. The room emptied around them, and when they finally emerged, blinking, into the street, the light was fading. Juliet looked at the time and gasped.
‘Léo! I didn’t realise how long we’d been in there. We’ve missed our train by an hour.’
He laughed.
‘Ah well, poor horrified Juliet, what matter? We can find alternatives. Would you have made that lunch any shorter?’
‘Well, no, of course not, but how can it possibly have got so late?’
‘You are not used to forgetting to watch your clock.’
It was true. Even at some of the wildest parties she had been to, if she wanted or needed to leave by a certain time, Juliet kept control of things and made sure she was out on the dot, discarding a string of disappointed friends in her wake. Never before had she simply forgotten to check the time, especially with a train to catch.
‘That’s true, but we can still sort it out, there must be other trains we can catch.’ She took out her phone and started tapping away. ‘Oh yes, there are several. If we hurry, there’s one that will get us back to Feywood by about eight. What do you think?’
‘What I think is that we are having such a pleasant day, and that we are still celebrating your good news. Why not prolong it, rather than rush for a specific train?’
‘Oh! I suppose we could, but…’ She tapped away some more. ‘The trains get infrequent later and then it’s harder to get home from the station.’
‘Juliet, I am suggesting that we don’t go back to Feywood tonight.’
She looked up at him in surprise.
‘Not go back?’
‘Non. Why do we not stay here and enjoy London? We could find an hotel, it will be an adventure.’
Juliet bit her lip. Because the plan had been to go back…yet the idea of staying in London for the night, with Léo, felt somehow irresistible. Her stomach fluttered with a combination of anticipation and nerves. A hotel?
‘All right,’ she said slowly. ‘Let’s stay.’
‘Super! What would you like to do, now we are not running for a train? A walk, perhaps, it’s a lovely afternoon?’
And then what? Still not ready to confront the reality of this hotel, Juliet stalled, for a moment considering whether to forget the whole thing and bolt for the station. But looking at Léo standing patiently smiling at her, she knew that here was another opportunity to dip her toe in the waters of courage, to continuing probing to find out if Léo’s benevolent exterior concealed a monster beneath. God knew Toby had seemed amiable enough to begin with, but it had all been a fa?ade to lure her in.
‘Yes, a walk would be nice. And then…there is an art deco cinema I would like to visit in Kensington. They normally have a showing of a classic film at six thirty, and you can order food, although I’m not sure I’ll ever be hungry again.’
‘Wonderful idea! We can walk through Hyde Park and be rewarded for our exercise with dinner, wine and a movie. Do we need to book?’
Juliet’s face broke into a real smile, the little muscles that had been twitching with worry finally relaxing.
‘You’re not the only one with contacts, Léo. Let me make a quick phone call.’
The walk took just under an hour, and it was one of the most pleasant Juliet had ever spent in London. No noisy crowds, no banging music, no demands to be cutting and witty, just a stroll through a beautiful park with Léo as her companion, a companion who made her laugh, pointed out things he thought she might enjoy seeing and listened attentively as she spoke.
‘Did you walk here often, when you lived in London?’
‘You know, I don’t think I walked through once, although I did come to a few shows at the Serpentine Gallery – including one of my father’s.’
‘And how was that?’
Juliet drew breath to give her normal answer – that it had been wonderful, she had enjoyed every second, she was so proud of Rousseau – then paused. Léo was asking for real – how was it? – and he wanted a real answer.
‘I like my father’s art, although I don’t always understand it, and I am very proud of him, but I find the exhibitions difficult sometimes, and that one in particular was a horrible evening. We were surrounded, as usual, by a throng of Dad’s admirers – critics and fans. Some of them are great – genuinely interested in him and his process – but so many are just gushing, pretentious sycophants with less interest in art and more in having their photo taken next to some art or, even better, an artist. And failing that, an artist’s daughter.’ She paused and glanced up at Léo, wondering if he would challenge her, suggest her criticism was due to her own insecurities, but he merely nodded, his eyes kind, and she continued. ‘My mother was on her finest form, telling anyone who asked me about myself not to bother, as I was the Cinderella of the family talent with my little cartoons, and Toby was busy sucking up to her and telling me oh-so-sympathetically that we should probably go soon, as it must be too upsetting for me to be highlighted as the mere shadow to the rest of my family’s talent.’
‘It sounds miserable.’
‘It was, but the unhappier I felt, the more I was sure it was my own fault, so I stuck it out until the end, then ended up drinking too much and giving Toby another reason to tell me off. No wonder I was known as an enfant terrible,’ she said, giving Léo a wry grin. ‘I felt bloody terrible and just like a child, however sophisticated I may have seemed.’
‘You are smiling about it now, which means you are healing. Do you think that coming back to live at Feywood has helped?’
Juliet shrugged.
‘Maybe. I don’t know yet. It’s exorcised some ghosts and raised a few more. I’m glad to be out of Toby’s immediate reach, I’m rethinking my career without anyone interfering and I’m experiencing home and the rest of the family without Mum being there. Well, mostly – I can still hear her voice sometimes.’
‘Ah, isn’t that the truth? The voices of those behind us in our lives still echo loudly at times, don’t they?’ Juliet was just going to ask him what voices he still heard, when they came to a junction. ‘Which way from here?’
‘We need to go right, up past the Albert Hall and then it’s about five minutes more from there. I can’t believe we’ve been walking for almost an hour.’
‘Indeed. The time seems to pass very quickly with you.’
They arrived in good time for the film which was, to Léo’s delight, the classic French movie Plein Soleil.
‘Have you seen it, Juliet?’
‘No, what’s it about?’
‘It is the story of The Talented Mr Ripley – you know that one?’
‘Yes! It’s a favourite of mine.’
‘Bon, then I hope you will like this French version. Do we need more champagne to enjoy with it?’
‘Maybe later, but for now I could murder a cup of tea.’
He laughed.
‘Tea over champagne, of course, and I will join you.’
They found their seats, which had been reserved for them by Juliet’s friend, and settled down to enjoy the film. Juliet had been prepared to concentrate carefully, and hoped that later she would be able to draw some sage comparisons between this and the English language version of the story she had enjoyed, but just a few minutes in, Léo’s rough, warm hand closed gently over hers where it lay on the armrest, and she lost at least the next twenty minutes ricocheting between excitement from the electric sparks that were shooting randomly from his touch all over her body and panic about whether her hand felt sweaty and he was now only being polite not pulling away. As soon as she remembered to breathe and relax, and managed to start focusing on the film again, he started rubbing his thumb along her little finger, and the confusing fireworks were set off all over again. When the film finished, she wasn’t sure if an eternity or a split second had passed. She busied herself collecting up her bag and pretending to look for a lip balm, but eventually had to meet Léo’s eyes. He smiled gently at her.
‘Did you enjoy the film?’
‘Er, yes, yes, very much.’
‘Good. What would you like to do now, about spending the night?’
‘I…I don’t know. I’m not sure…you know…’
She tailed off, furious with herself. Why couldn’t she just pull out sassy old Juliet, who would have led the way to the swankiest hotel in town, taken charge, seemed confident, no matter how she felt inside? Because, whispered a small voice, because you have to be honest with Léo, and you know it.
‘I do know. And that’s all good. I have a suggestion.’ She nodded. ‘We have to sleep, yes, and it is late now to go back to Feywood. We go to an hotel, we sleep, we return in the morning, nothing more – except of course more tea…’
She looked to see if he was teasing her, and he was, but kindly.
‘Yes, I’d like that. Especially the tea.’
They both laughed and the awkwardness melted away.
‘Come then,’ said Léo, ‘I think I know a good place near here.’
They walked for a short time before arriving at a small, but utterly exquisite hotel. It would have been easy to walk past if you weren’t looking for it, thought Juliet, with its frosted glass door and discreet sign whispering, rather than announcing, its name: Pulchra. Inside was a luxuriously renovated Victorian townhouse with gleaming marble floors, deep velvet armchairs and the enveloping scent of orange blossom. An immaculately dressed young man stood behind the polished wood reception desk and greeted them politely.
‘Good evening, madam, sir. How may I help you?’
‘Unfortunately, we have missed our last train and were hoping for a room for just tonight?’ said Léo.
‘Of course. I have our Amabilia Suite available, if that would be suitable, consisting of a bedroom, sitting room and spa bathroom as well as a small, private roof terrace where you may like to take a cocktail, or breakfast in the morning?’
‘That sounds ideal,’ said Léo, handing the man his credit card.
‘Léo!’ hissed Juliet, as the card details were entered into the computer. ‘How much does a hotel room like that cost? You must let me give you half.’
‘Non, not this time. It was I who insisted we stay in London. You can insist next time, if you like.’
The receptionist was out from behind the desk before Juliet had a chance to argue, handing them a key card and directing them towards the lift, which rose three floors before depositing them outside a large wooden door. Léo swiped the card, and they went inside.
‘What an absolutely gorgeous room,’ said Juliet, forgetting all the awkwardness she had endured over the past hour. ‘And look at the view. You can see all along the Thames – oh, it’s beautiful.’
‘This furniture is worthy of a French chateau,’ said Léo, running his hand along the back of a mahogany chaise longue. ‘And the mini bar is more maxi – regarde.’
He opened a painted cabinet to reveal a dazzling array of miniature glass bottles as well as a further door which turned out to be a tiny built-in fridge, stuffed with mixers, white and rosé wine and champagne.
‘Shame I don’t feel like another drink,’ said Juliet, ‘but look at the choice of tea. There must be twenty different types. This is amazing, Léo. How did you know about it?’
He shrugged.
‘Just one of those things. Come, let’s see what else there is.’
The bedroom was as beautiful as the sitting room, with a huge bed, plump with pillows and another window offering not just the same spectacular view but access to a large roof terrace, furnished with table and chairs. A door led off the bedroom, and when Juliet pushed it open, dusky lighting gently rose to reveal the bathroom.
‘Oh wow, they weren’t kidding when they said it was a spa. Look at it, Léo! This is a waterfall shower – you could fit about five people in it. And the bath as well! And look at all the gorgeous products, there’s everything we could possibly need.’
Léo grinned.
‘I think a fancy bathroom might be more your thing than mine, so I’m going to leave you to enjoy it.’
Although she felt a stab of disappointment at his departure, Juliet didn’t need telling twice. Within seconds of the door closing, she had pulled off her clothes and was standing under the hot stream of water in the shower, pressing a different button every couple of minutes to change the force or pattern of the deluge. It had been a wonderful day, but a lot had happened, and the peaceful drenching was blissful. Eventually, feeling revived, she emerged and wrapped a bath sheet around herself, then started investigating the tub. She started the water running and poured in a luxurious amount of a foaming bath oil she had seen rave reviews for in magazines but couldn’t bring herself to pay forty-five pounds for. The scent of patchouli and bergamot filled the air and she breathed deeply. She was about to climb in when she noticed a small sign above some white cotton bags, saying ‘Laundry’. Closer investigation revealed that she could bag up her clothing, alert Reception and have it washed and pressed by morning: ideal. She decided to take the bags and a robe out to Léo to see if he wanted to avail himself of the service as well and found him stretched out on the sofa listening to quiet music flooding the room from hidden speakers.
‘Hi, just leaving this here in case you want your clothes washed.’
‘Ah, merci, I will do that. I will call down. I must say, this sofa is very comfortable, I shall spend a pleasant night here.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘Of course, I do not mind – that was the understanding, non?’
‘I didn’t mean, well…I mean, you know, you don’t have to sleep out here. That bed is massive, it would be silly to waste half of it. Obviously, do whatever you want. But I don’t mind.’
Ugh, so awkward.
‘Then I shall gladly share, thank you.’
‘Great! I mean, fine, whatever works. Oh look, magazines! I might take one for the bath.’
Grabbing a copy of Vogue, Juliet scuttled gratefully back to the bathroom, wishing she could get her head in order around Léo. It was infuriating how much he unsettled her, yet how calm and accepting he was of her obvious fluster.
When she emerged some forty-five minutes later, Juliet felt she had regained some composure. Léo was still in the living room but soon showered and joined her in the bedroom.
‘I have had a wonderful day getting to know you, Juliet. I feel as if we could stay in this hotel room forever.’
‘I know. London has been very different with you. But I have to say – something I never thought I would say – I am looking forward to going home. And Feywood is feeling like home for the first time in a long time.’ She yawned lavishly. ‘I’m sorry, I’m dropping off.’
‘Not at all. Good night, lovely Juliet.’
Léo dropped a kiss on Juliet’s forehead and watched as her eyes closed and her face relaxed. The softening effects of sleep changed her beauty, blurred the edges somewhat and gave him a glimpse of the child she had once been. All signs of wariness left her, and he wished that the same was true for when she was awake. How he longed for her to share all her vulnerability with him, to allow him to smooth away the hurt of the past. His anger flared at the thought of the pain that her mother and Toby had put her through, and he had to relax the fists that had involuntarily clenched. He was suddenly gripped by the fear that he would only become another bad interlude. Maybe I’ll also hurt her, but how could I, when I feel such a protective instinct? Maybe that will save her – and me? He hoped so. Neither of them needed any more anguish in their lives.