Maybe he should try to bump into Juliet, to check she was all right and try to prove that he was not an afternoon drunk, but reason piped up again.
Tiens! Stop being a fool. Yes, she is beautiful, and intriguing, but you know she is hurting. Given your past, must you wade in and, in trying to save her, ruin more lives? You have come here to work and, yes, to hide, to recover, to atone. Learn your lesson.
He drank a pint of water and not stopping to clear away his lunchtime debris, marched out of the house and into the kitchen garden, where he hoped he might find some peace.
THIRTEEN
Lunch up at Feywood was a quiet affair that day. Sylvia was away in Oxford again, Rousseau was working, and Will was at some boring conference on estate management, so it was just the three sisters who gathered together some bits from the kitchen and sat down at the big, faded table in there to eat, rather than bothering with the dining room.
‘Where’s Léo today?’ asked Martha, sawing wonkily at a cucumber with a blunt knife.
‘Here, give me that.’ Juliet took both items from her, discarded the knife for something sharper and began slicing efficiently, while Martha redirected her efforts to buttering bread. ‘I don’t know, last I saw of him he was drinking wine and looking sadly at some article on his tablet.’
‘Maybe it’s hisfemme mariéeagain,’ said Frankie. ‘Did you see anything?’
‘No.’
In fact, Juliet had noticed some of the photographs, but something stopped her telling Frankie about them. She would only want to rush off and try to find the article, and it felt intrusive somehow, to be scrabbling around for salacious details.
‘We all should have tried harder at school with French. Who knew it would have come in so useful? That’s very good cucumber-cutting, by the way, Juliet. Been taking lessons from the charming chef?’
Juliet looked down at her handiwork in surprise. Itwasrather good. Maybe being around the cookery school so much was beginning to rub off, but she didn’t welcome Frankie’s lazily snide comments.
‘Oh, shut up, Frank. You could always try doing something other than waiting for me and Martha to fill your plate.’
‘I don’t mind, girls, I’m too much in love to eat.’
She immediately countered this comment by breaking off a large hunk of cheese to go with her crackers and perfectly sliced cucumber.
‘Ooh, Frankie, who is it?’
Martha’s eyes lit up. For someone so hopeless with men, thought Juliet, Martha was irrepressibly romantic.
‘Haven’t you noticed? It’s Will, our gorgeous estate manager, of course.’
Martha’s hand flew to her mouth, then she tried to compose herself.
‘Oh… that’s… that’s lovely news. I hadn’t realised. Well… erm… great, good luck.’
She produced a smile, then busied herself with some leftover quiche. Juliet glared at her sisters in turn. Frankie could be cruel at times, lolling in her chair and grinning at her older sister’s crestfallen face.
‘Frankie, give it a rest. Martha, ofcourseshe’s not in love with Will, and he’s certainly not in love with her. He’s got far more sense than that. She’s winding you up.’
Martha raised her gentle face to look at her sisters with renewed hope.
‘Really? Wonderful! Erm, I mean, that is, I would have been happy for you, but I’m not sure you’re really a perfect match…’
She trailed off, reddening.
‘There, there, big sis.’ Frankie patted Martha’s hand. ‘I know he’s your dream man, I wouldn’t do that to you. But I wish you’d get on and tell him, rather than mooning around. It’s been two years now.’
‘I…did you know as well, Juliet?’
‘You might as well paint it on the side of the house, it’s that obvious.’
Juliet felt sorry for Martha but was glad of the distraction.
‘Oh no! Do you think he knows too?’
