‘When we’re at the church. Come on, we’d better get moving or we’ll be late.’
They walked down together, Frankie glued to her phone as usual, smiling a secret smile at each new text she received, and Martha needing regular chivvying as she stopped to wonder at the colour of a leaf, or the way the sun caught a spider’s web.
‘Honestly, I don’t know why you two can’t get a move on,’ grumbled Juliet. ‘Everything around here takes so long. I’ve been waiting all morning for the bread to organise itself and now a ten-minute walk is going to take half an hour ifyoukeep stopping to text andyouinsist on marvelling over every blade of grass.’
‘You’re not in London anymore, Dorothy,’ snapped back Frankie, deliberately pausing to select an emoji. ‘Chill out, there’s no rush.’
‘Well, I would like to be on time, that’s all.’
‘Try not to worry, Juliet, we have time,’ said Léo. ‘But you and I can walk ahead if you prefer?’
Remembering the almost-kiss, Juliet felt herself going pink at the thought of strolling on ahead with Léo, and then pinked further at the thought of the comments that Frankie was bound to make, never able to resist the opportunity for a jibe. Shereplied more sharply than she had intended, ‘It’s fine. Let’s just keep moving.’
When they reached the church, it was rapidly filling with people from not just that village but several other local places. The Lammas celebrations, forgotten now by so many churches, were famous in these parts and followed by a jolly lunch in the meadow next to the church, which Juliet could see was already bright with bunting and dotted with chairs and trestle tables. They were greeted by the vicar.
‘How wonderful, the whole family. Welcome, welcome! And is this our loaf?’
‘This is it,’ said Juliet, suddenly feeling a little shy. ‘I hope you like it.’
‘Was it made with love?’ asked Father Benedict, staring at her earnestly.
Juliet wouldn’t have known where to look, had Frankie’s snort of laughter not given her an excuse to glare in her direction. Léo intervened.
‘Of course!’ he said neutrally. ‘All the best bread is.’
‘Then in that case I will like it very much,’ he replied. ‘Now please let me see.’
Trying as hard as she could not to let her hands brush Léo’s, Juliet helped him to unwrap the loaf and reveal their owl to the little group. For a moment, no one said anything, but Martha was the first to recover herself.
‘Juliet, Léo, it’sbeautiful,’ she breathed.
Everyone agreed, and Juliet found the courage to meet Léo’s eyes for the first time in several hours, finding them smiling warmly right back at her, causing her stomach to turn several not unpleasant somersaults.
‘Come,’ said the vicar, carefully taking the tray. ‘It is time to begin.’
FIFTEEN
The next couple of weeks were busy for Juliet, and she had little time to wonder about her feelings for Léo. She barely saw him, despite their proximity as they both worked, for he rose early and she slept late and worked late, often into the early hours. Sometimes, she had a project to finish – the newspaper work had tight, rapid deadlines – but sometimes, she got so carried away with her own projects that she didn’t glance at the clock until she realised her eyelids were drooping and dawn was creeping up over the quiet trees of Fey Woods. But now and again their paths did cross, and it was on a day towards the end of August, a day when Juliet thought she had detected the first faint smell of autumn on the summer breeze, that she wandered downstairs to see if they could spare some milk.
‘Why don’t you join us for a coffee, Juliet?’ said her aunt, smiling. ‘We hardly see you these days, you’re barely even up at the house for meals.’
‘I know, it’s been manic. I thought some of the newspaper work might dry up when I left London, but it’s been busier than ever. Mind you, that’s mostly down to politicians doing stupid things, not my moving away.’
‘I enjoy your cartoons very much,’ said Léo, putting a creamy, brimming mug of coffee in front of her, then turning to take a tray of golden, flaky pastries out of the oven. ‘How you see right to the very centre of these people, what they have done, what they think, so…concis. Is the English word “succinct”? It is a good word.’
‘Thank you,’ said Juliet, accepting a plate laden with the pastries. ‘It does get to be something of a knack over time, but most of these people are much more transparent than they believe themselves to be. Mmm, these are delicious, what’s in them?’
‘It’s a new recipe we’re trying for the school,’ answered Sylvia. ‘They’re classic croissant pastry, but the paste filling is a mix of roasted hazelnuts, honey and thyme.’
‘Well, they’re incredible,’ declared Juliet, hoping her chin wasn’t bristling with crumbs. ‘Can I take a few with me to London tomorrow? I think I’m going to need some comfort food.’
‘I didn’t know you were going,’ said Sylvia. ‘Is it for work?’
‘Yes, my editor wants me to meet a couple of people to talk about a project we’ve got in mind. I don’t see why it can’t be done over Zoom, but she’s always preferred a face-to-face meeting to a computer screen. Frankie was going to come with me, but of course she’s chosen this week to have a bloody big bout of gastroenteritis.’
‘I’m not sure she had much choice in the matter, darling.’ Sylvia’s words were reproachful, but her eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Why was she going with you? She won’t usually stray from the county now she’s met her mysterious boyfriend. I wonder if he has family locally? I can’t help being curious.’
Juliet licked her finger and started dabbing up the crumbs on her plate. She chewed her lip.
