Their radiant smiles say it all: a happy ending at last to a long, and at times insalubrious, story. Léo Brodeur was not available for comment.
Léo laid the iPad down gently and switched off the screen. He sat for a moment, gazing at the shining utensils hanging on the kitchen wall, his mind a muddle of images and feelings that might never consolidate into coherence. It was only the sound of the oven alarm that roused him, and he went to retrieve the risotto. As he went through the motions, barely noticing the glorious garlicky smell that rose from the dish, one thought floated up above the maelstrom: Juliet. How he loved her! Butmon Dieu, how toxic would this love end up being to her? With no bad intentions at all, he had apparently driven Veronique first to a sordid reality TV show, which then catapulted her into the arms of this dubious Gilbert who, because of him, she had been unable to trust, which ended in her attempt to take her own life. What worse havoc could he wreak on the life of Juliet? What damage had he already done, unwittingly, unintentionally? Remembering the last time he had read one of these articles, and the way he had spiralled into despair, he drew his eyes away from the half-full bottle of red wine on the counter and instead picked up his phone.
‘Mathias? My friend, I’m so glad you answered. Is this a good time to talk?’
‘Of course, it’s good to hear from you, I miss you. You’ve received the email I sent?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry to be the one to break these things to you, but I think it’s better that you know.’
‘It is, it is, but Mathias, how can she say such cruel and untrue things? Do people believe them? I’m still so very angry with myself for what’s happened.’
‘But these things aren’t your fault. You did your best, what more could you have done? You’re not a mind reader.’
‘I suppose not, but somehow, I feel I should have taken more care. And now I’ve met a wonderful woman, but I worry that she will be hurt by me as well, that – as with Veronique – I’ll unintentionally cause her pain.’
‘But how would you do that? I know you, you’re kind and sensitive. You have always been there for me and never behaved in any way that has done me harm. Quite the opposite.’
‘I’m worried that our relationship stops her from being in London, that it would be better there for her and for her career. She wasn’t sure about living here at Feywood again, her familyhome with all its memories and ghosts. Her father has a new relationship, and this worries Juliet, but I’m afraid that I’ve minimised her concerns and left her open to more pain and confusion. You see, I only wanted to help, but perhaps I can’t be trusted not to create a problem.’
‘But Juliet is an adult. She won’t stay if she doesn’t want to. Is it so hard to believe that she chooses to be with you for all the right reasons?’
Léo sighed deeply.
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to treat her as a child, that’s true. I’m so anxious that I will stop her being where she should be, with someone more suited to her.’
‘I don’t understand. Why shouldn’t that be you?’
‘Maybe it is, maybe not, but she has only recently left her life in London, her friends there, an ex…’
‘And what does Juliet say?’
‘She says she’s happy to have left, and certainly speaks poorly of the ex. I do trust her judgement, but I’m concerned that she says these things with such vehemence to make me feel more comfortable. I don’t want her to think she must keep me happy.’
‘I know it’s hard for you after all the lies Veronique has told, but you must trust Juliet – it’s the only way you will go forward. And you must trust yourself. You’re my friend, not some angel of darkness.’
This made Léo laugh.
‘Non, you are right. I will make sure it is all right, all of it.’
They spoke for a few minutes longer, before saying goodbye and arranging to speak again soon. Comforted by speaking to his friend, Léo dug a fork into the risotto and forced his mind back to the present, even though he knew that the worrying shadows still lingered.
TWENTY-ONE
As work on the recipe book and Juliet’s own book gathered pace, along with regular customers at the cookery school, it was a busy but satisfying period. One afternoon, Juliet was in the kitchen at Feywood, where she had come to escape from the bustle and work in total silence. She knew that Martha would be as absorbed as ever in a portrait, Rousseau and Sindhu had gone out for the day and Frankie was barely around anymore, off as she was with the mysterious boyfriend she still refused to tell anyone about. Having achieved a pleasing amount, Juliet was standing by the kettle waiting for it to boil and contemplating a chocolate biscuit or two, while thinking how much she liked this room, even though it was badly in need of a facelift. It had last been refitted in the 1970s and had no doubt been the height of fashion then, when it replaced the 1930s boxy painted wooden cabinets that had preceded it. The dark green fitted units with textured brown laminated worktops that had been installed were rather tired, but still exuded a certain dated charm although not, thought Juliet, tugging at a drawer that always stuck, quite as appealing as smooth runners and soft close mechanisms. The kitchen would be very low on the list when it came to sorting Feywood out and who knew? Maybe itwould survive long enough to come back into fashion, although they would have to hide the freestanding gas cooker from any officials, who would instantly condemn it. She was wondering how many of her London friends would mind holding their breath whilst leaning into the oven with a match in order to light it, when Sylvia came in.
‘Hello, would you like a cuppa too? It’s just boiling.’
Sylvia sat down heavily at the table, then leant down to stroke Moriarty’s scruffy head as he came over to greet her.
‘I’d love one, thank you. I came up to pinch some saffron as we’ve run out at the school, but it’s not a bad time for me to take a break.’
Juliet dropped tea bags into two mugs and looked at her aunt with concern.
‘Are you all right? You look awfully tired.’
‘Iamtired. The school is doing well, which I’m incredibly grateful for, and the book is coming on wonderfully, thanks to you and Léo, but it does all feel a bit much at times.’
