‘Do you believe that there is anything here to worry about? Go and ask Sylvia if you must, she was on the other side of the camera at this moment. But don’t show me this rubbish and expect to get an explanation. You are better than this, Juliet.’
‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘Yes, that is all.’
‘Fine,’ she snapped, and stood up. ‘Maybe Iwillgo and ask Sylvia, if I’m not going to get a civil answer out of you.’
And she stormed back towards the cookery school door. Howcouldhe dismiss her like that? Why didn’t he just explain? This was Toby all over again.
‘Juliet, whatever has happened?’
‘Oh, Sylvia!’ Juliet burst into tears. ‘Léo’s beingawful, he won’t speak to me properly. He’s making me feel so stupid.’
Sylvia held out her arms, and Juliet sobbed into her shoulder as her aunt patted her back and made soothing noises. As she calmed down, she led her to a chair and gave her a glass of water.
‘Try and drink something and then tell me what has happened, lovie.’
Obediently, Juliet took a sip, and then another, until she felt herself calming down.
‘It’s this photo,’ she said shakily, holding up her phone. ‘It’s horrible, it looks so – compromising. I don’t really believe that anything happened, but why wouldn’t Léo talk to me about it? He seemed so angry.’
‘You know I was there, Juliet, and you’re right – nothing happened. Do you think Léo was angry because he thinks you don’t trust him?’
‘I don’t know. We barely even got that far before he just shut me down.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Léo; he’s usually so open. I’m sure he’s not really cross with you. There must be more to it than that.’
Juliet was silent for a moment, her heart pounding.
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s what Toby did. He was lovely at first, opened his heart to me completely – or so I thought – and encouraged me to do the same. And then when I was well and truly reeled in, that was when all the horrible stuff started: the criticism, telling me that I wasn’t thinking straight, denying things Iknewwere true, accusing me of being paranoid. When I asked Léo about that stupid photo, I just thought he’d hug me and reassure me. But he didn’t. And now I don’t know what to think.’
‘Toby pulled the rug out from under you. I hate him for what he’s done, for the confusion he left you feeling. I’m not surprised you find it hard to trust Léo, given what you’ve been through. Darling, you must just do what is right for you, what you believe to be safe and true. But be sure, do be sure, before making any big decisions.’
Juliet hugged her aunt and went upstairs. She knew it was good advice, but what she didn’t know yet, was whatwassafe, whatwastrue. Maybe it was Léo who would turn out to be dangerous territory. Toby was still trying to contact her, still begging her to speak to him, full of apologies, confessions and promises he had changed. Maybe it was a case of better the devil you know.
As the cookery school door closed behind Juliet, Léo dropped his head into his hands. Didn’t she trust him? Butmon dieu, did he even trust himself? Sure, that photograph looked bad and nothing,nothinghad happened, but how could he find himself here again, looking as if he was carrying on in some way with another woman who was spoken for, if not yet actually married? He had been very careful that weekend, or so he thought, to manage the image of the cookery school and himself so that they were shown in the best and most professional possible light in a magazine article he had had serious reservations about anyway. And now it was all in ruins. He groaned and dropped his head to his knees, clutching at his hair. What if this compromising photograph reached France? Veronique wouldn’t hesitate to push it towards every gossip magazine she could and his reputation, already soiled, would be dragged down further. Even if Juliet believed that the photo was nothing, how could she stay with him when she realised the simple truth: that he was not good enough for her?
After some time, Léo dragged himself to standing and walked heavily back inside, half longing to see Juliet in the kitchen and half dreading it. But there was only Sylvia, dear, kind Sylvia, peering into a bubbling pan with a vexed expression on her face.
‘Oh hello, Léo,’ she said. ‘I wonder if you can work out what might be missing from thisjus? It’s just not working.’
He peered into the pan.
‘Have you tried arrowroot? It is not my favourite thing to use but might save this.’
‘Oh, thank you, I’ll try. And while I’m doing that, you can put the kettle on and start telling me why you look so morose.’
He hmphed.
‘I’m sure you have heard from Juliet already. What can I possibly add?’
‘Come now, no melodrama. I’m sure the two of you can sort it out.’
‘But I am not so sure that we should,’ he said flatly, pouring boiling water into two mugs.
‘Whyever not? I think you make a lovely couple. I thought you were happy.’
‘So did I, but now I see Juliet veryunhappy, and it is I making her feel this way.’
