Chapter 23
Feywood felt quiet without Pandora and her hens fluttering around the place. Juliet was relieved not to have to change any sheets other than her own for a while, and she was glad for Léo that the weekend had gone as well as it did. They were all excitedly awaiting the publication of HELLO! Magazine, and there had already been enquiries from people who had got wind of the visit. However, before the magazine came out, another picture emerged.
Juliet was in her flat one morning, working on some illustrations for the recipe book. She was pleased with how they were evolving: funny and quirky, but not spiteful, and she was sure that Léo and Sylvia would be pleased with them. A timid knock on the door came at just the right moment.
‘Oh, hello, Martha, I don’t often see you up here. Come in, I was just making a coffee. Would you like one?’
‘Yes, thanks. I should come and see you here more often, it’s lovely. The light is amazing.’
‘Isn’t it? I don’t need it for my cartoons, but it’s brilliant for the watercolour work. Here you go.’ She handed her sister a steaming mug and they sat down. ‘So, what can I do for you?’
Martha bit her lip.
‘There’s something I want to show you, although I’m not sure about it…’
She trailed off, looking worried. Juliet frowned.
‘Whatever it is, better out than in. Just show me.’
Martha nodded and pulled out her phone. A few taps later she had opened Instagram and held up a photo. It showed Léo and Pandora looking exactly as if they had just broken away from a kiss: their backs were to the camera, their hands on each other’s shoulders and their faces wore expressions which Juliet immediately interpreted as guilt. The comments underneath confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who thought that. Juliet looked up from studying the phone.
‘Was that taken here?’
‘Yes, look, you can see the wall in the background, the bit where it’s all broken. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m not showing you because I think that anything is – going on. But I wanted you to know about it, in case anything is said.’
‘Right. Yeah, I can see why. Thanks, Martha. Can you send it to me?’
‘Sure.’ She took her phone back and shortly a ‘ping’ sounded. ‘There you go. Don’t be cross with Léo, will you? It looks a bit funny, but…’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it. Come on, now you’re here, let’s change the subject. Tell me how work’s going.’
After Martha had left, Juliet tried to settle to her work again, but it was as if her phone had a red-hot laser coming out of it and pointing directly towards her head. She just couldn’t ignore it. She snatched up the device and looked again at the photograph.
‘Oh, this is bloody ridiculous,’ she said out loud, and stormed out to go and find Léo. She didn’t have far to go; he was downstairs with Sylvia in the cookery school. They looked up in surprise as she flew down the stairs.
‘Is everything all right?’ asked her aunt.
‘No, not really. It really isn’t. Sorry, I’ve got something to speak to Léo about.’
‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘It looks like this can’t wait. Can you excuse me a moment, Sylvia?’
They went outside, and Juliet led him to a small bench. She took out her phone and showed him the photograph.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You know, of course, that this is not how it looks, Juliet?’
‘I was hoping not. Because to me it rather looks as if you have been kissing her, and her so-called friend has put it on her Instagram page with a load of sassy little winking faces and comments about how what happens on a hen should probably stay there.’
‘Do you believe that there is anything here to worry about? Go and ask Sylvia if you must, she was on the other side of the camera at this moment. But don’t show me this rubbish and expect to get an explanation. You are better than this, Juliet.’
‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘Yes, that is all.’
‘Fine,’ she snapped, and stood up. ‘Maybe I will go and ask Sylvia, if I’m not going to get a civil answer out of you.’
And she stormed back towards the cookery school door. How could he dismiss her like that? Why didn’t he just explain? This was Toby all over again.
‘Juliet, whatever has happened?’
‘Oh, Sylvia!’ Juliet burst into tears. ‘Léo’s being awful, he won’t speak to me properly. He’s making me feel so stupid.’
Sylvia held out her arms, and Juliet sobbed into her shoulder as her aunt patted her back and made soothing noises. As she calmed down, she led her to a chair and gave her a glass of water.
‘Try and drink something and then tell me what has happened, lovie.’
Obediently, Juliet took a sip, and then another, until she felt herself calming down.
‘It’s this photo,’ she said shakily, holding up her phone. ‘It’s horrible, it looks so – compromising. I don’t really believe that anything happened, but why wouldn’t Léo talk to me about it? He seemed so angry.’
‘You know I was there, Juliet, and you’re right – nothing happened. Do you think Léo was angry because he thinks you don’t trust him?’
‘I don’t know. We barely even got that far before he just shut me down.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Léo; he’s usually so open. I’m sure he’s not really cross with you. There must be more to it than that.’
Juliet was silent for a moment, her heart pounding.
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s what Toby did. He was lovely at first, opened his heart to me completely – or so I thought – and encouraged me to do the same. And then when I was well and truly reeled in, that was when all the horrible stuff started: the criticism, telling me that I wasn’t thinking straight, denying things I knew were true, accusing me of being paranoid. When I asked Léo about that stupid photo, I just thought he’d hug me and reassure me. But he didn’t. And now I don’t know what to think.’
‘Toby pulled the rug out from under you. I hate him for what he’s done, for the confusion he left you feeling. I’m not surprised you find it hard to trust Léo, given what you’ve been through. Darling, you must just do what is right for you, what you believe to be safe and true. But be sure, do be sure, before making any big decisions.’
Juliet hugged her aunt and went upstairs. She knew it was good advice, but what she didn’t know yet, was what was safe, what was true. Maybe it was Léo who would turn out to be dangerous territory. Toby was still trying to contact her, still begging her to speak to him, full of apologies, confessions and promises he had changed. Maybe it was a case of better the devil you know.
As the cookery school door closed behind Juliet, Léo dropped his head into his hands. Didn’t she trust him? But mon dieu, did he even trust himself? Sure, that photograph looked bad and nothing, nothing had happened, but how could he find himself here again, looking as if he was carrying on in some way with another woman who was spoken for, if not yet actually married? He had been very careful that weekend, or so he thought, to manage the image of the cookery school and himself so that they were shown in the best and most professional possible light in a magazine article he had had serious reservations about anyway. And now it was all in ruins. He groaned and dropped his head to his knees, clutching at his hair. What if this compromising photograph reached France? Veronique wouldn’t hesitate to push it towards every gossip magazine she could and his reputation, already soiled, would be dragged down further. Even if Juliet believed that the photo was nothing, how could she stay with him when she realised the simple truth: that he was not good enough for her?
After some time, Léo dragged himself to standing and walked heavily back inside, half longing to see Juliet in the kitchen and half dreading it. But there was only Sylvia, dear, kind Sylvia, peering into a bubbling pan with a vexed expression on her face.
‘Oh hello, Léo,’ she said. ‘I wonder if you can work out what might be missing from this jus? It’s just not working.’
He peered into the pan.
‘Have you tried arrowroot? It is not my favourite thing to use but might save this.’
‘Oh, thank you, I’ll try. And while I’m doing that, you can put the kettle on and start telling me why you look so morose.’
He hmphed.
‘I’m sure you have heard from Juliet already. What can I possibly add?’
‘Come now, no melodrama. I’m sure the two of you can sort it out.’
‘But I am not so sure that we should,’ he said flatly, pouring boiling water into two mugs.
‘Whyever not? I think you make a lovely couple. I thought you were happy.’
‘So did I, but now I see Juliet very unhappy, and it is I making her feel this way.’
‘But Léo, you haven’t done anything wrong. She doesn’t really think there’s anything to that photo, you know, she’s smart enough to know how these things can look when there’s nothing to see. She was just a bit upset that you hadn’t given her a bit more, that’s all. Why didn’t you?’
She turned casually back to her saucepan, but Léo knew the momentum of the question, even if she apparently didn’t.
‘Please, Sylvia, sit down and I will explain. The photo, it brought back many difficult memories. Of Veronique, the woman I had been seeing in France who turned out to be married and has made my name dirt throughout the country. I do not deserve any reputation as a marriage wrecker, but if this new photograph goes far, then what is already out there will be compounded. Juliet does not deserve to be dragged along in something like that, however baseless it is. And maybe it ispartly my fault. Maybe I am a very, very poor judge of these things.’ He looked glumly into his tea, and Sylvia patted his arm.
‘Oh Léo, you can’t really think for a moment that you are to blame for any of it. I was there, remember; you did absolutely nothing – and neither did Pandora. It was just an unlucky shot, and it is her friend who has displayed poor judgement in posting it. Juliet won’t care a jot, I’m sure.’
‘Perhaps. But I am also concerned that she is not being true to herself anyway. She did not want to come back to Feywood, we know this. Perhaps her heart still lies in London, and with Toby. She was, I think, more angry than necessary over the photo. I wonder if she will take this opportunity to return.’
‘You don’t honestly believe that. She has been staunch in her refusal to take Toby back, she’s seen through him.’
‘Maybe, but maybe he really has changed. They have much history together. She refuses to delete his number.’
‘If anyone has changed, it’s Juliet. But she hasn’t become a different person, she’s returned to being herself, to being the person she was when she was a little girl, before everything went so wrong with her mother. In going back, she has gone forward, and I believe you can be part of that – if you allow yourself to be.’
Léo drained his tea.
‘Thank you, Sylvia. I love Juliet and I want nothing more than to be with her, here at Feywood. But it is not all about what I want. I must bow to her wishes and hope that she is honest enough with me – and with herself – to recognise them.’
He didn’t go upstairs then, but back to his room in the house. He went to check the French press and Pandora’s friend’s social media, but the photograph seemed to have disappeared and not been reproduced anywhere of note. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had been lucky this time, but he was not going to be the architect of Juliet’s downfall. He had almost convinced himself that she would be far better off without him.