‘Yes, Dad, I’m fine, just woke up early. I thought I’d come and help with breakfast.’
Rousseau bellowed with laughter.
‘Did you indeed? There really must be an emergency. Ah well, I suppose you’ll tell me in your own time. Or not.’
‘I don’thaveto help. I thought it might be appreciated, but if you’re only going to laugh at me?—’
‘Come on, come on, enough of the wounded martyr. I’d love your help. You can keep an eye on this porridge, if you like. It’s only got a couple of minutes to go, and I don’t want it sticking to the pan.’
Juliet poked at the bubbling mass with a wooden spoon, wondering how on earth she would stop it doing anything it wanted to do. It looked to her like it had a life of its own. Rousseau bustled around the kitchen, piling up trays with food and suddenly vanishing to take it through to the dining room. Eventually, the porridge was the only thing left, and he came over to inspect it.
‘Looks good, Juliet, thank you, my dear.’ He took the wooden spoon from her and turned the mixture one more time. ‘Now, grab that tureen, will you, and we’ll pour it in.’
When the saucepan was scraped clean, he picked up the porridge, and Juliet followed him through to the dining room, where Frankie and Martha were waiting.
‘Ah, here she is,’ said Frankie. ‘We missed you –and Léo– at supper last night.’
Juliet ignored her and sat down.
‘Oh, come on, spit it out. What were you two up to? You can’t have been workingallthat time.’
‘Knock it off with the insinuations, will you, Frankie? We worked until late, then had something to eat. No story, no gossip, no excitement. Sorry.’
Frankie pouted.
‘Oh, shame. I was hoping you were going to have something to tell us, even if it was only about thefemme mariée?—’
She stopped talking as the door opened and Léo came in with Sylvia. They looked puzzled at the guilty breakfasters and loaded silence.
‘Bonjour. Everything all right?’
‘Fine. My sisters were just asking how the photos went yesterday.’
Oh God, he probably thinks I’ve been talking about him. I knew I shouldn’t have simpered all over him last night.Juliet could feel that telltale flush come to her cheeks.
‘It was good. Very good. Your sister is a professional as well as an artist. Sylvia, I’m sure you will think the same when you do your session.’
That was kind of him.
Juliet didn’t look at him but ate her breakfast as quickly as she could. Not quickly enough, alas, for Frankie, who had smelt blood and wasn’t going to let her quarry go that easily.
‘Juliet was just telling us how you had a cosy supper together after the photos. Wasn’t she, Martha?’
Martha flushed. ‘Well, no, not really?—’
‘Oh, shut up, Frankie.’ Juliet shoved her chair back and dropped her spoon on the table. ‘Stop trying to cause trouble. There’s nothing to see, nothing to talk about, do you understand?Nothing.’
‘Are you quite sure? Very defensive…’
Frankie was intolerable in one of these moods, like a cat with a mouse, playing with it just for spite. Well, Juliet wasn’t going to stay in those velvet paws with their barely sheathed claws a second longer.
‘This is ridiculous. I’ve got work to do. Sylvia, maybe we can catch up later to arrange our session.’
Without waiting for an answer, she snatched up her half-full bowl, having learnt her lesson from the growling stomach she had suffered the last time she had stormed out of a family meal, and retired to the kitchen.Bloody Frankie, she somehow always knew which nerve to touch, like a sadistic dentist.
Juliet hadn’t cooled off much once she had finished eating and decided to try to walk off some of her fury before starting work. Leaving the house, she went to collect her bag and jacket, as the spring morning hadn’t quite warmed up yet, then set off towards the woods. They started to work their soothing magic as soon as she stepped into their shady gloam. She had never felt frightened in these woods, rather reassured and somehow protected as if any enchantment they might hold was more nurturing than threatening. Once out of sight of Feywood’s gardens, she paused and took some deep breaths, letting the earthy smell fill her lungs and expelling the toxic anger and worry she had let consume her. A woodpecker drummedsomewhere overhead, and a blackbird appeared to look at her inquisitively before hopping away. Why had she let herself get so confused and overwhelmed? Léo had been nothing but kind and respectful yesterday, she had enjoyed the day and yes, she had felt attracted to him. It was only natural, he was gorgeous, she wouldn’t pretend to herself any longer that she thought differently, although she’d die rather than admit it to her sisters. But what had shaken her, she knew, was not the attraction itself, but the repulsion and fear that squirmed alongside it. She had seen herself soften and melt as he guided her senses with the food and wine, and while that felt divinely sexy, and she longed to sink into it luxuriously, it simultaneously jolted her awake. Was this how it had been with Toby? She had locked away the memories of just how he had led her into such submission to him, but she remembered what it had become, how she had been disallowed, eventually, to choose things for herself, make her own decisions, have her own likes and dislikes, her own opinions. Everything was under subjugation to Toby, and if it wasn’t, it was wrong. And she would suffer then, from cruel, cutting words reminding her that she was too stupid, too lacking, too rigid to think for herself. He would laugh at her, question her round and round in circles until she found herself agreeing with him, apologising. But how had it started? Maybe it had been like this, with honeyed words and her own glad capitulation. She stamped her foot on the soft moss, scaring a robin that had been inspecting her from a branch. Well, it couldn’t happen again. Léo didn’tseemanything like Toby, she had to admit that, but he had seduced a married woman, and wasn’t that how these men operated? Clever and subtle, knowing how to manipulate you and exploit your insecurities. Juliet picked up her bag and began striding through the woods again, this time letting them fire her up rather than calm her. No, he wouldnotworm his way in. This time she would be her ownfierce advocate. She would have to be professional but no more, no more.
Passing through a final small glade that she knew well, as a favourite place the three sisters had come to as teenagers to drink disgustingly sweet alcohol and practise snogging on their local boyfriends, she soon left the wood and crossed the boundary of her family’s land, emerging onto the road into the village. She made straight for the village shop where she bought some food that she could keep in her room, so that she didn’t always have to go up to Feywood for meals if she didn’t want to. Admittedly, the choices were scant, but she wasn’t planning on doing it regularly; she just wanted the option to make her own choices once in a while. It had only been a short time, but she was starting to find the sense of obligation stifling. And besides, it was the perfect way to avoid Léo. Non-perishable items started stacking up in her basket: melba toast, jam, long-life milk, cereal, tinned tuna pasta salad that reminded her of aeroplane food and some biscuits and crisps. She almost avoided the latter, as she had no off-switch when it came to crisps and her tailored trousers were already tighter than they had been when she was living in London on a diet of coffee and gin, but she had a sense of rebellion – against what, she wasn’t sure: her family, Feywood, her old life, herself? She shrugged and threw in another brightly coloured tube of delicious reconstituted, salted potato. She knew this stuff wasn’t good for her, buthell, it felt good to be in control of it. No mother or Toby peering over her shoulder and asking her if shereallyneededit. She dropped in a bottle – wait, two bottles – of wine and headed for the counter. Oh God, it was the shop’s owner on duty – a particularly odious man who had sneaked to her parents on more than one occasion over her purchases. He smoothed his few remaining strands of hair across his bald spot and peered at her over his glasses with his small, dark eyes.
