The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,65
and fear.
It was this particular expression, as if captured forever in a photograph, that my mind’s eye would return to the most in later years. It was a snapshot of a moment, unplanned and instant, that sealed my fate irrevocably. When Lottie had said he was married, I had placed Edward firmly in the category of one of those men my mother had warned me about – an opportunist, a coddiwompler – who lived in the moment, without thought of the consequences. I had locked him away as the sort of man who could – who would – move on to another woman without pause, never able to develop a deep, lasting, emotional connection, and I had made that assumption, pushing Edward away, in the flash of a moment without thinking it through. But as our eyes locked in the doorway of the Bugle and the energy between us ignited in an undeniable moment of truth, I knew that Edward was deeply in love with me. It was in his eyes, in his shortened breath, his smile. It was a love that could not be mimicked, not at such a spontaneous moment.
The owner of the Bugle, Mr Palmer, walked into the lounge bar from a private room. He handed Edward a suitcase with a smile.
‘Your car has just pulled up outside, Sir,’ he said.
If Edward heard Mr Palmer, he didn’t respond. Mr Palmer looked in my direction and put the suitcase down on the floor.
‘Hello, Edward,’ I whispered, motionless.
‘Hello, Juliet. Poor timing seems to be our nemesis.’
I didn’t respond, mainly because I didn’t know what to say, until …
‘Why did you come here?’ I asked.
He led me by the arm to a corner of the bar.
‘I wanted to know you were all right, after the Empire bomb. I was out of mind with worry. I couldn’t find you and …’
‘You shouldn’t have come,’ I whispered. ‘Everything is different now. I’m different now. I’m married. And so are you.’
‘Who told you I’m married?’ His voice was tired, strained.
‘Lottie Lanyon.’
‘When?’
‘After I left your cottage. On that last day.’
He shook his head. Mr Palmer coughed by the door.
‘I have to go, but it isn’t – wasn’t – what you think. But I can’t tell you about it now – not here. I wish you’d come to see me, to ask.’ He rubbed his forehead, frustrated.
I sighed with the sadness of it all. The lack of sleep, the strong measure of gin and not to mention the war, was starting to take its toll. I was so very tired.
‘None of that matters now, Edward. I should never have told you that I wouldn’t marry Charles. I couldn’t tell you the whole story, but at the time I had no choice. And now, what with the war. Everything is different. I’m not the girl you knew.’
He shook his head.
‘May I write to you?’
I didn’t respond.
‘Please,’ Edward persisted. ‘It’s important. If I write to you at the ATA, at Hamble, will you get the letter?’
‘Yes, but really, there’s no—’
Edward interrupted. ‘There’s every need.’
‘You have a wife,’ I whispered.
Edward didn’t answer but walked to the door and picked up his case. He turned to face me.
‘There is no wife, Juliet.’ His shoulders sagged with sadness. ‘I’m no longer married and I wasn’t when I met you. When I arrived in Angels Cove, Lottie would sometimes come to the village and seek me out. I was invited up to the big house a few times, she jumped to the wrong conclusion one day and I let her run with it. It was easier, somehow.’
He crossed the room and kissed me on the cheek before whispering in my ear.
‘I’ve never met anyone like you and I know I never will.’
A moment later, he was gone.
A week later two letters arrived on the same day. They could not have been more different. Edward’s was short, but said everything I needed to know.
Dear Juliet,
Say you’ll see me again.
Yours.
E x
Charles’ letter was longer. He wrote to inform me of changes that had taken place at Lanyon and he was concerned that I had not been consulted or made aware, it was my inheritance, too, now, after all. Charles explained that the east wing had been commandeered by the Foreign Office for their own particular use during the war. Charles asked if I might be able to find the time to visit Lanyon to check the old place over, explaining that Pa seemed excessively stressed in his letters. Organising the estate in terms