‘Bon, then I hope you will like this French version. Do we need more champagne to enjoy with it?’
‘Maybe later, but for now I could murder a cup of tea.’
He laughed.
‘Tea over champagne, of course, and I will join you.’
They found their seats, which had been reserved for them by Juliet’s friend, and settled down to enjoy the film. Juliet had been prepared to concentrate carefully, and hoped that later she would be able to draw some sage comparisons between this and the English language version of the story she had enjoyed, but just a few minutes in, Léo’s rough, warm hand closed gently over hers where it lay on the armrest, and she lost at least the next twenty minutes ricocheting between excitement from the electric sparks that were shooting randomly from his touch all over her body and panic about whether her hand felt sweaty and he was now only being polite not pulling away. As soon as she remembered to breathe and relax, and managed to start focusing on the film again, he started rubbing his thumb along her little finger, and the confusing fireworks were set off all over again. When the film finished, she wasn’t sure if an eternity or a splitsecond had passed. She busied herself collecting up her bag and pretending to look for a lip balm, but eventually had to meet Léo’s eyes. He smiled gently at her.
‘Did you enjoy the film?’
‘Er, yes, yes, very much.’
‘Good. What would you like to do now, about spending the night?’
‘I…I don’t know. I’m not sure…you know…’
She tailed off, furious with herself. Why couldn’t she just pull out sassy old Juliet, who would have led the way to the swankiest hotel in town, taken charge, seemed confident, no matter how she felt inside?Because, whispered a small voice,because you have to be honest with Léo, and you know it.
‘I do know. And that’s all good. I have a suggestion.’ She nodded. ‘We have to sleep, yes, and it is late now to go back to Feywood. We go to an hotel, we sleep, we return in the morning, nothing more – except of course more tea…’
She looked to see if he was teasing her, and he was, but kindly.
‘Yes, I’d like that. Especially the tea.’
They both laughed and the awkwardness melted away.
‘Come then,’ said Léo, ‘I think I know a good place near here.’
They walked for a short time before arriving at a small, but utterly exquisite hotel. It would have been easy to walk past if you weren’t looking for it, thought Juliet, with its frosted glass door and discreet sign whispering, rather than announcing, its name: Pulchra. Inside was a luxuriously renovated Victorian townhouse with gleaming marble floors, deep velvet armchairs and the enveloping scent of orange blossom. An immaculately dressed young man stood behind the polished wood reception desk and greeted them politely.
‘Good evening, madam, sir. How may I help you?’
‘Unfortunately, we have missed our last train and were hoping for a room for just tonight?’ said Léo.
‘Of course. I have our Amabilia Suite available, if that would be suitable, consisting of a bedroom, sitting room and spa bathroom as well as a small, private roof terrace where you may like to take a cocktail, or breakfast in the morning?’
‘That sounds ideal,’ said Léo, handing the man his credit card.
‘Léo!’ hissed Juliet, as the card details were entered into the computer. ‘How much does a hotel room like that cost? You must let me give you half.’
‘Non, not this time. It was I who insisted we stay in London. You can insist next time, if you like.’
The receptionist was out from behind the desk before Juliet had a chance to argue, handing them a key card and directing them towards the lift, which rose three floors before depositing them outside a large wooden door. Léo swiped the card, and they went inside.
‘What an absolutely gorgeous room,’ said Juliet, forgetting all the awkwardness she had endured over the past hour. ‘And look at the view. You can see all along the Thames – oh, it’s beautiful.’
‘This furniture is worthy of a French chateau,’ said Léo, running his hand along the back of a mahogany chaise longue. ‘And the mini bar is more maxi –regarde.’
He opened a painted cabinet to reveal a dazzling array of miniature glass bottles as well as a further door which turned out to be a tiny built-in fridge, stuffed with mixers, white and rosé wine and champagne.
‘Shame I don’t feel like another drink,’ said Juliet, ‘but look at the choice of tea. There must be twenty different types. This is amazing, Léo. How did you know about it?’
He shrugged.
‘Just one of those things. Come, let’s see what else there is.’
The bedroom was as beautiful as the sitting room, with a huge bed, plump with pillows and another window offering not just the same spectacular view but access to a large roof terrace, furnished with table and chairs. A door led off the bedroom, and when Juliet pushed it open, dusky lighting gently rose to reveal the bathroom.
