Chapter 25
‘Sylvia, are you all right?’ Léo hastened his footsteps as he drew closer to her; she did not look well.
‘I’m fine, really I am,’ she answered in a slow, small voice. ‘I’m so sorry for summoning you like that, especially when you looked like you were having rather an intense conversation with Juliet, but I wanted you because I believe I can trust you. I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘But of course you are. What can I do?’
‘I’m feeling extremely tired, I think I’ve rather overdone it today. I just need someone – you – to help me upstairs so that I can go to bed. But I don’t want you saying anything to anyone, you have to promise me that you won’t.’
‘I think I should call a doctor,’ said Léo, looking in concern at her pale, thin face.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I am not ill – well, no iller than I was this morning, just tired and I don’t want to fall down the stairs or something stupid and ruin everyone’s evening. Will you help me or won’t you?’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Thank you. Just put out your arm so that I can lean on you, that’s all I need.’
Léo offered her his arm, and she drew herself up to standing. As they turned to go into the house, he glanced across the lawn and saw Juliet deep in conversation with Toby.
‘What is it?’ asked Sylvia, as he paused and stiffened momentarily. She followed his gaze towards the talking pair. ‘What are he and Juliet talking about? I was surprised when I saw him here.’
Léo started moving slowly towards the house.
‘He said he had come to commemorate Lilith, but he also had an offer for Juliet – an affordable flat in London and the possibility of a very special job.’
‘Ah. That sort of too good to be true package sounds just like Toby. What did she say?’
They stepped onto the bottom stair, and Léo braced himself as Sylvia laid all her weight on him. He had not realised how weak she was.
‘She has not given him an answer. Yet.’
‘And what do you think?’ She sounded breathless.
‘I think maybe we should concentrate on the stairs, and not on talking.’
‘No, no, it’s good. Takes my mind off the fact I can’t climb the bloody stairs on my own. Tell me what you think of this offer.’
‘I think that perhaps it is for the best.’
‘What?’ Sylvia grasped the banister and turned to face him. ‘The best? How on earth would that be for the best? She seems so happy back here at Feywood, with you. I haven’t seen Juliet like this in years.’
‘But I cannot be the reason she stays, if there is a better life for her in London, a life she understands, a life that fulfils her. Non, it is better if I stand aside. I do not want her to resent me. You do not know all, Sylvia, but believe me when I tell you that I am not good enough to be her reason to turn these things down.’
‘What utter nonsense. For a start, you wouldn’t be the only reason she stayed – any fool can see that her art is flourishing, as is her general…well-being, I suppose you’d call it. For goodness’ sake, don’t let her back into Toby’s tender embrace, although I can hardly believe she’d go back to him, or back to London at all. She’s so happy here.’
They had reached the door of Sylvia’s room and Léo opened it.
‘Juliet is a wonderful woman who can make her own mind up. It’s not a case of me ‘letting’ her do anything, or not. I must accept that this has just been a pleasant diversion for her in a glittering life.’
He helped Sylvia sit on the bed, and she handed him her shawl.
‘Well, I think you’re being melodramatic and very stubborn for some reason. Whatever it is that you think you’ve done or haven’t done that makes you unworthy – well, don’t you think Juliet can decide for herself about that as well? The point is that you have always treated her well, simply loved her and been loved back, and that is more than enough.’
Léo shrugged.
‘I am not so sure. Now please, let me help you. What can I do?’
‘Nothing. I’ll be fine now, I promise. Go and tell Juliet to stay, that’s the best thing you can do.’
He smiled sadly.
‘Bon nuit. Until tomorrow.’
When he had left Sylvia, Léo headed back towards the cookery school, hoping not to see anyone else; this was not to be the case. As he crossed the lawn, he saw a figure making its way rapidly towards him, and although he quickened his steps, he was not able to avoid Toby.
‘A word, if I may, Brodeur?’
Léo stopped, sighing.
‘I do not think we have much more to say to one another.’
‘Well, I have something to say to you, and you’ll bloody well listen.’
Léo shrugged.
‘Speak quickly, please, my work is not yet over for the day.’
‘I hope you’re not going to stop Lettie going back to London. You must realise that she can’t achieve her potential stuck here.’ He waved his arm around dismissively. ‘With you. The opportunities I mentioned will soon make her forget all of this.’
‘And help her, perhaps, to remember you?’
‘Lettie and I are just good friends now, that’s all,’ said Toby pompously. ‘And as a friend, who has known her and her family for many, many years, I am both well placed to make such an offer and to understand what it means to her. Do you want to hold her back in some way?’
‘No, no, of course I do not want this,’ said Léo, taken by surprise. ‘I may not know Juliet as well as you do, but I also want the very best for her.’
‘And do you think you know what that is?’
‘I do not pretend to, no,’ replied Léo.
Toby gave a contemptuous laugh.
‘You don’t even believe that you are the best for her. And if you don’t believe that, then there’s not much else you can do than say au revoir.’
Léo bowed his head slightly.
‘I allow Juliet to decide for herself,’ he said. ‘Good night.’
He walked the short distance to the cookery school quickly, feeling somehow as if he had admitted to something he didn’t agree with, but he wasn’t sure how Toby had managed to do that. He pushed the door open. Work was what he needed now; he was not ready for bed.
He had been sitting at his laptop for nearly an hour, when the door opened slowly, and Juliet slipped through.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’
‘Non, I wanted to work. I find it a comfort.’
‘Right. Well, I’m going to bed.’
‘Are we not going to discuss what happened today?’
‘Is there anything to discuss? From what I remember, you pretty much gave me my marching orders back to London.’
‘I did not say that. I do not want to stand in your way, I want you to make the best decision for you, aside from me.’
‘Well, if you thought our relationship was serious and had any kind of future, then you would think that wouldn’t be possible. Any decision I made about where to live and work would of course include you. But I think you do think that, and this is some weird way of forcing me into some gesture that isn’t actually about me at all.’
His head spun. What was happening? Why was she so angry when he was trying to do the noble thing? Once again, it seemed that he was causing problems, even though that was not his intention. He did not want to confuse or manipulate her, but this was what had happened with Veronique: when he tried to behave well, he was accused of being nefarious. It seemed these women saw through to some truth that he had not dared to acknowledge about himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but her torrent continued.
‘Well, I shall do what I want then, regardless of you. I won’t be tricked into thinking differently. I shall go back to London, and I shall be glad to, away from this boring, poisonous house and back to where I know what’s what. There, are you happy now?’
He didn’t have an opportunity to speak before she had turned on her heel, stamped up the stairs and slammed the door firmly behind her. A tear ran down Léo’s cheek and he brushed it away with his work-roughened hand. So that was that. He had done it, saved her, and she had seemed only too willing to go. It was not what he wanted, no, in fact so far from his dreams of being with her forever that he would laugh if he didn’t feel so devastated. But maybe, he thought, as he packed up his computer and started to trudge back towards the house, when he had got used to the misery and grief of her absence, he would also be able to feel glad that she was able to live the right life for her.
After Juliet slammed the door behind her, she ran to her bed, threw herself down and buried her head in the pillow, desperate that Léo should not hear her sobs. He had to believe that her decision was strong, not realise how devastated she felt and come up to continue disorientating her with his words. As the tears subsided, she sat up shakily and went over to the window to peer out. No lights shone out of the downstairs windows – he had gone. Juliet went over to the little kitchen area and put on the kettle. Thank goodness, she thought, that Martha had left some camomile teabags there one day; they were just what she needed. She took her drink over to the sofa and pulled a blanket across her tucked-up knees.
She turned on the TV and tried to quiet her mind with a rerun of an old show about people looking around lovely houses in the country, keen to move from the suburbs or the city and find some sort of rural nirvana. But all the programme did was to add to the questions swirling around in her mind. Was living at Feywood truly making her happy, helping her self-actualisation, or had she merely been lulled into some kind of grass-scented torpor which would ultimately stultify, rather than stimulate her? Were the opportunities Toby had offered in London real and, if so, would she be a fool not to grab them with both hands? And what about Léo? She gazed sadly at the screen, watching the mouths of the people move but not hearing the words they were saying. Had she really been so much of a gullible drip to have fallen for the same controlling shtick a second time? It still didn’t fit, somehow, she just couldn’t believe it of Léo, who had always been so kind, so encouraging…so safe. When she was in his arms, she felt strong, not weak, empowered rather than overprotected. But she had believed Toby so many times, been taken in. She clearly wasn’t the right person to make good judgements about others.
A thought suddenly came to mind which caused such a chill to trickle through her that she hugged the blanket tighter. What if he had been lying about that married woman, that it really was him who had caused all the problems and no matter how loudly Veronique shouted about it, he was determined to keep denying her truth? Maybe he had left France and hidden in the depths of the English countryside because he was, in fact, guilty as all hell and had no hope of redeeming himself at home? Now that this had occurred to Juliet, it attained the ring of truth, and she felt sure that she had him all figured out.
Hot with confusion, she threw off the blanket and went to open her laptop, where she clicked through to the RoundUp website. It was exciting, no doubt about it, and now she looked at the scrolling news ticker and exclusive stories, she felt her heart speed up. She had just gone to the section where sharp and funny sketches and cartoons, so like her own work, were gathered, when she heard a gentle knock on the door. A spurt of adrenaline shot through her: Léo?
‘Yes!’ she barked, uncertain of whether or not she wanted to see him, but when the door pushed open, it revealed Martha, in pyjamas and wellies.
‘Hi,’ she said, as she stepped into the flat. ‘I couldn’t sleep after everything today and I saw your light was on. Sorry, are you working?’
Juliet glanced at the screen.
‘Sort of. Come and have some of this tea and I’ll tell you.’
Soon the sisters were sitting side by side on the sofa, their feet tucked underneath them and each clutching a fresh mug of camomile tea.
‘Did you see Toby today?’ asked Juliet, and Martha nodded.
‘Yes. I didn’t invite him.’
‘No, I know. He said he believed it was an “open invitation”. Anyway, he said that the woman who runs that website’ – she gestured towards the laptop – ‘is interested in hiring me. It would be a big deal, Martha, but I’d have to move back to London.’
‘But you can’t!’ exclaimed Martha, sitting up and nearly spilling her tea. ‘What about Feywood, and Léo and, well, you. Oh, please don’t go away again, it’s been so lovely having you back.’
Juliet took a deep breath.
‘And I have loved being here, Martha, if I’m honest. But it’s not going so well. Things with Léo are – difficult. I think I may have misjudged him, or our relationship, or both. And the opportunities that Toby is offering…They would mean I could still give Dad money for Feywood, but I could be back in London, not just with my old life but maybe with an amazing new job. I don’t think I can pass it up. Coming back here – it was never meant to be permanent.’
‘I know,’ replied Martha, wiping away tears. ‘But we all so hoped it was, and then when you and Léo got together, everything seemed so perfect.’
‘Well, life isn’t some perfect fairytale,’ said Juliet, more harshly than she had intended. ‘Especially not mine. But I can rely on work. The job at RoundUp would be a dream come true, if it happens, but there’s my book as well, and I’ve had some other people interested. I’m sorry, Martha, but my mind’s made up.’
‘When will you go?’
‘Tomorrow.’
Martha gasped.
‘So soon?’
‘I’ve already contacted my old landlord, and I got lucky: the flat’s vacant at the moment for a short let while I work things out. I have to. If I doubt myself, or let other people try to talk me out of it, I’ll lose my strength. I can’t let that happen. I’m sorry.’
And she was sorry, sorry to have upset her sweet sister, sorry that things had soured at Feywood, sorry that she was, for now at least, turning to Toby for help. When Martha had gone, Juliet stepped into the shower, trying to picture this new, glittering future and resolutely pushing away the creeping feeling that the shine she imagined might tarnish very rapidly.