The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,52

were sleeping, some were watching the TV and some were just sitting in the corridor alone. Yvonne explained that some of their more active residents sat in the lounge during the day, to chat and take in the view. But Juliet wasn’t one of them. She kept to her room, which was – Yvonne was quick to add – a corner room with the best view in the house, and where Juliet spent her days, looking out to sea while listening to audio books. We paused at the end of a corridor.

‘You’ve never met Juliet before?’ Yvonne asked.

I hesitated. It seemed odd to say that I hadn’t.

‘No, I’ve never met her before in my life. I’m staying in her house in the village. I was asked by her grandson to look for something she’s desperate to find.’

‘Yes. The compass? Did you find it.’

I shook my head.

‘Sorry. I didn’t. I came to tell her. Sam thought that perhaps I might stay for a chat, if she wants me to.’

‘A bit of advice then,’ Yvonne said, putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘She looks younger than she is but she’s frail, really frail, not that she wants anyone to know that. Also, if she thinks you’re talking to her like a child she’ll boot you out.’ Yvonne put her hand on the door handle and lowered her voice. ‘This is a woman who listens to TED talks every day and exchanges emails with the Arch Bishop of Canterbury and that science chap on the telly.’

‘Science chap?’

‘Can’t remember his name. She’s been trying to argue the case that quantum physics can actually prove that heaven exists … or something like that.’

Yvonne knocked and without being beckoned we walked into a beautiful, baking hot room. I took off my coat and draped it across my arm. A large chair sat with its back to us by the corner window, the kind that has wings for resting the head. Juliet was sat in it, her eyes closed, her body so small inside a chair so big – a beautifully dressed, tiny, white-haired doll with perfect skin. She was wearing an indigo blue cashmere jumper with a contrasting wrap draped around her shoulders. A blanket rested on her legs.

Here she was. The fearless. The death-defying. The Juliet Caron. The woman who dashed around the country flying Spitfires and Hurricanes. The woman who fell in love with a stranger in a field a couple of miles away. The woman who once owned this large stately house. I could have bowed down at her feet and kissed them.

Yvonne leant forward and moved as if to wake her. I placed a finger to my lips and shook my head. ‘Let her sleep,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll wait.’ I sank into a matching and equally deep, high-backed chair, the arm of which touched the arm of Juliet’s and was set to a perfect angle for conversation. I looked out across the lawns to the sea. A line of cedar trees framed a view of the sea to the west. I watched as the pink/blue hues in the sky deepened as our little bit of the Earth slowly turned away from the sun. I felt swaddled and cosy. My eyelids, feeling heavy suddenly, closed. I rested my head against the wing of the chair and slowly, very slowly, drifted away.

Goodness knows how long I slept, but it was completely dark outside when I woke up. I glanced around. The room was lit by a scattering of lamps. Juliet was awake. She was smiling at me.

‘Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry,’ I said, stifling a yawn and shuffling to sit up straight. ‘It must have been the heat. I never normally sleep during the day.’

Biggest lie of my life.

‘I’m Katherine,’ I offered, still shuffling and trying to sound bright. ‘I’m staying in your cottage for Christmas. How rude of me.’

She smiled.

‘Not at all.’

I began to babble.

‘Your Grandson asked me to have a good look in the cottage for the compass, but I …’

Juliet reached across and patted my hand with long, knotted fingers. Her watery eyes were so very bright.

‘Don’t worry about that just for a moment,’ she said, her weak voice narrowly betraying her years. ‘Give yourself a second to come to and I’ll ring for tea.’ She picked up a wire with an orange button on the end that was tucked down the side of her chair. An alarm began to sound. Yvonne appeared in front of Juliet’s chair, breathless. She was