‘And don’t forget Léo,’ said Sylvia mildly. ‘I’m delighted that he took up the partnership with me, and very grateful. It’s helped enormously financially, and he is a big draw.’
‘I suppose so.’
Sylvia smiled.
‘Let me show you the space upstairs, see what you think.’ She led the way to a wooden staircase in the corner that wound up to the floor above. ‘It’s very basic at the moment, but I have some simple ideas that would make it liveable.’
Juliet looked around as she reached the top of the staircase. Basic was an appropriate word, she thought, trying not to show her dismay as she studied the large, bare wooden area. True, large windows had been installed, and it was flooded with light, but that was all there was. Windows and planks. But there was something else, too, something that started to creep up on her as she watched the dust motes dancing in the sun. Up here, under the old beams untouched for over four hundred years, there was history, and peace. No sounds of cars, or sirens, no shouts, just the echo of long-gone hooves, the memory of the swish of hay being forked up, the ghost of an ancient mouse scuttling across the floorboards. No gigantic portrait of Lilith in sight. She turned slowly to her aunt.
‘I love it.’ The words were almost involuntary, then came spilling out. ‘I love it, Aunt Sylvia, I do. I want to live here.’
Suddenly, she could see herself there, her sloping desk under the windows, a bed, an armchair. Maybe she could curtain off acorner to use as a darkroom, when she was experimenting with photography using film. Her painting bench would fit beautifully just there…
‘I’m very glad, darling. We’d already factored in putting a small bathroom up here – you can see that the plumbing is there – and we’ve kept the other loosebox partitions, so we can section it all up very easily. No room for a proper kitchen, I’m afraid, just a sink, kettle and a tiny fridge, but there’s downstairs, of course, when it’s not in use, and anyway, it would be lovely to see you up at the house for meals with the rest of us.’
Juliet nodded.
‘Yes, I’d like that. It sounds like a good balance.’
Balance was something her life had been missing for a long time, and now she wondered if it was this that she had been craving.
‘I’ll organise the bathroom and arrange a few other bits and pieces. Just tell me when I can do it so that there’s minimal disruption to you and Léo. I really do want to do my bit to help save Feywood.’
‘I know you do, darling. The cookery school opens in a fortnight, so if you can get it sorted out as quickly as possible, that would be best. I’m so happy you’ve decided to stay.’
‘I will, I’ll start making some calls straight away.’
Juliet felt suffused with an enthusiasm she hadn’t felt since she was a child. This wasn’t the nervous excitement she felt at the prospect of a big night out with lots of braying, competitive city boys, or the fear-fuelled adrenaline of presenting new work to a newspaper editor. This feeling made her tingle with anticipation as her life seemed to unfold enticingly before her, a landscape of possibilities. How odd, she reflected, that making her life smaller seemed to be having that effect.
Her aunt cleared her throat and broke through Juliet’s thoughts.
‘There is one more thing.’
‘Of course, Aunt Sylvia.’
‘I spoke to Léo earlier and told him that I would like to commission you to do some work for us. He agreed.’
‘What sort of work? I can’t boil an egg, you know that.’
Her aunt laughed, perhaps a little too readily, and hastily straightened her face to continue.
‘Er, no, I definitely didn’t mean help in the school. No, the fact is that I would like to carry on working on our website and literature. We’re doing well for business so far, but it wouldn’t hurt to be even more eye-catching. I’d –we’d– really love you to create some drawings that we can use.’
Juliet inwardly raised an eyebrow at Sylvia’s self-correction and wondered just how on board with this scheme Léo was. She bet he didn’t want her involved at all and was just going along with her aunt to please her. Well, that made two of them. She didn’t want to do anything that would necessitate spending time with him, but she wasn’t going to say no to Sylvia.
‘Of course – what did you have in mind?’
‘Perhaps some caricatures of us cooking, little sketches of the building and kitchen, that sort of thing? I did wonder if we might eventually produce some mugs and aprons and so on, what do you think?’
‘It’s a great idea. I’d be really happy to help. And forget about invoicing me, I’ll do it for you for free, to thank you for your support.’ She waved away her aunt’s protestation. ‘Really, I insist. It will be good for me to do something different – and another way for me to help Feywood.’
‘Thank you, darling. It’s very kind. If we get as far as merchandise, we’ll talk again.’
Juliet nodded vaguely. She was already beginning to outline ideas in her head, rubbing out and correcting her first thoughts about Léo, which painted him in a less than flattering way. Therewas no denying he was handsome, but she hated that shaggy Gerard Depardieu look; it was so hackneyed, particularly in an actual Frenchman. Beautifully easy to caricature, though, even if she would have to tone down her trademark sharp edge for these drawings.
Sylvia went on, ‘Well, I’ve lived with artists for long enough to see that you’re in a creative reverie now. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, darling.’
‘Oh, sorry, I just had some lovely ideas for your website. I think I’d better start getting some sketches down before I lose them.’ She pulled a small notebook out of her pocket. ‘I’ll start getting acquainted with the light in here, too, it’s lovely.’
