Toby gave a contemptuous laugh.
‘You don’t even believe that you are the best for her. And if you don’t believe that, then there’s not much else you can do than say au revoir.’
Léo bowed his head slightly.
‘I allow Juliet to decide for herself,’ he said. ‘Good night.’
He walked the short distance to the cookery school quickly, feeling somehow as if he had admitted to something he didn’t agree with, but he wasn’t sure how Toby had managed to do that.He pushed the door open. Work was what he needed now; he was not ready for bed.
He had been sitting at his laptop for nearly an hour, when the door opened slowly, and Juliet slipped through.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’
‘Non, I wanted to work. I find it a comfort.’
‘Right. Well, I’m going to bed.’
‘Are we not going to discuss what happened today?’
‘Is there anythingtodiscuss? From what I remember, you pretty much gave me my marching orders back to London.’
‘I did not say that. I do not want to stand in your way, I want you to make the best decision foryou, aside from me.’
‘Well, if you thought our relationship was serious and had any kind of future, then you would think that wouldn’t be possible. Any decision I made about where to live and work would of course include you. But I think youdothink that, and this is some weird way of forcing me into some gesture that isn’t actually about me at all.’
His head spun. What was happening? Why was she so angry when he was trying to do the noble thing? Once again, it seemed that he was causing problems, even though that was not his intention. He did not want to confuse or manipulate her, but this was what had happened with Veronique: when he tried to behave well, he was accused of being nefarious. It seemed these women saw through to some truth that he had not dared to acknowledge about himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but her torrent continued.
‘Well, Ishalldo what I want then, regardless of you. I won’t be tricked into thinking differently. I shall go back to London, and I shall be glad to, away from this boring, poisonous houseand back to where I know what’s what. There, are you happy now?’
He didn’t have an opportunity to speak before she had turned on her heel, stamped up the stairs and slammed the door firmly behind her. A tear ran down Léo’s cheek and he brushed it away with his work-roughened hand. So that was that. He had done it, saved her, and she had seemed only too willing to go. It was not what he wanted, no, in fact so far from his dreams of being with her forever that he would laugh if he didn’t feel so devastated. But maybe, he thought, as he packed up his computer and started to trudge back towards the house, when he had got used to the misery and grief of her absence, he would also be able to feel glad that she was able to live the right life for her.
After Juliet slammed the door behind her, she ran to her bed, threw herself down and buried her head in the pillow, desperate that Léo should not hear her sobs. He had to believe that her decision was strong, not realise how devastated she felt and come up to continue disorientating her with his words. As the tears subsided, she sat up shakily and went over to the window to peer out. No lights shone out of the downstairs windows – he had gone. Juliet went over to the little kitchen area and put on the kettle. Thank goodness, she thought, that Martha had left some camomile teabags there one day; they were just what she needed. She took her drink over to the sofa and pulled a blanket across her tucked-up knees.
She turned on the TV and tried to quiet her mind with a rerun of an old show about people looking around lovely houses in the country, keen to move from the suburbs or the city and find some sort of rural nirvana. But all the programme didwas to add to the questions swirling around in her mind. Was living at Feywood truly making her happy, helping her self-actualisation, or had she merely been lulled into some kind of grass-scented torpor which would ultimately stultify, rather than stimulate her? Were the opportunities Toby had offered in London real and, if so, would she be a fool not to grab them with both hands? And what about Léo? She gazed sadly at the screen, watching the mouths of the people move but not hearing the words they were saying. Had she really been so much of a gullible drip to have fallen for the same controlling shtick a second time? It still didn’t fit, somehow, she justcouldn’tbelieve it of Léo, who had always been so kind, so encouraging…so safe. When she was in his arms, she felt strong, not weak, empowered rather than overprotected. But she had believed Toby so many times, been taken in. She clearly wasn’t the right person to make good judgements about others.
A thought suddenly came to mind which caused such a chill to trickle through her that she hugged the blanket tighter. What if he had been lying about that married woman, that it really was him who had caused all the problems and no matter how loudly Veronique shouted about it, he was determined to keep denying her truth? Maybe he had left France and hidden in the depths of the English countryside because he was, in fact, guilty as all hell and had no hope of redeeming himself at home? Now that this had occurred to Juliet, it attained the ring of truth, and she felt sure that she had him all figured out.
Hot with confusion, she threw off the blanket and went to open her laptop, where she clicked through to theRoundUpwebsite. It was exciting, no doubt about it, and now she looked at the scrolling news ticker and exclusive stories, she felt her heart speed up. She had just gone to the section where sharp and funny sketches and cartoons, so like her own work, weregathered, when she heard a gentle knock on the door. A spurt of adrenaline shot through her: Léo?
‘Yes!’ she barked, uncertain of whether or not she wanted to see him, but when the door pushed open, it revealed Martha, in pyjamas and wellies.
‘Hi,’ she said, as she stepped into the flat. ‘I couldn’t sleep after everything today and I saw your light was on. Sorry, are you working?’
Juliet glanced at the screen.
‘Sort of. Come and have some of this tea and I’ll tell you.’
Soon the sisters were sitting side by side on the sofa, their feet tucked underneath them and each clutching a fresh mug of camomile tea.
‘Did you see Toby today?’ asked Juliet, and Martha nodded.
‘Yes. I didn’t invite him.’
‘No, I know. He said he believed it was an “open invitation”. Anyway, he said that the woman who runs that website’ – she gestured towards the laptop – ‘is interested in hiring me. It would be a big deal, Martha, but I’d have to move back to London.’
‘But you can’t!’ exclaimed Martha, sitting up and nearly spilling her tea. ‘What about Feywood, and Léo and, well,you. Oh, please don’t go away again, it’s been so lovely having you back.’
Juliet took a deep breath.
