Two days later a woman called.

‘Vivi,’ she gushed down the line. ‘It’s me, Cookie.’

It turned out Cookie was Lady Cressida Drummond-Willoughby. We went to school together and she was ‘dying’ to meet up. Dr. Greenhalgh had told me to mix with as many people from my past as possible. ‘You never know who might trigger a memory,’ she said.

So I told Cookie, of course, I’d like to meet up, but I warned her that in all probability I wouldn’t be able to recognize her and she’d have to come up to me.

We agreed to meet at eight in the Beaufort Bar.

I arrived ten minutes early and walked into the newly refurbished Savoy Hotel and headed for the Beaufort Bar. It was unashamedly glamorous with art deco inspired chandeliers, antique mirrors, luxurious mohair upholstering and gold leaf backed tortoiseshell Lucite walls. The place was made for seduction. As I stood at the entrance uncertainly, I had a sudden déjà vu: I’ve been here before.

Cookie had said she would book one of the booths, but I decided to wait for her at the bar. I turned toward the spectacularly lit bar and did a double take. For a second I could not believe my eyes: Dr. Kane was sitting alone at the bar nursing a large measure of amber liquid.

He didn’t see me and my first thought was that I should leave him alone. His posture was deliberately excluding and insular. And then I reasoned that it would be rude not to at least say hello. What if he turned his head and saw me? He’d think I had snubbed him. Besides, I was itching to talk to him in this place made for seduction. In fact, my legs were walking up to him even before the decision was consciously made.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

He raised his head slowly, his body stiffening. ‘Fancy,’ he said, and there was not a trace of welcome in his voice.

‘You must let me buy you a thank you drink,’ I plowed on, determined not to be put off my mission. With a smile I slipped onto the seat next to his and put my bag on the bar top.

‘That’s not necessary. I’m just doing what I’ve been paid to do.’

I looked at him. ‘You don’t like me at all, do you?’

His eyes were hooded, his voice flat. ‘Don’t take it personally, but I don’t get involved with clients.’

My pride came to the rescue. ‘I won’t. I am here to meet a friend. She is late and I’m just passing time. You are hardly getting involved by accepting a drink, are you, Dr. Kane?’

He lifted his drink to his mouth. ‘In that case, thanks.’

I smiled tightly through my hurt.

The bartender was making his way toward me. I ordered a repeat order for Dr. Kane and a dry Martini for myself. He courteously informed me that the house gin was Bombay Sapphire, but a smoother Martini would be got using Tanqueray. I agreed readily and he nodded approvingly.

I turned to Dr. Kane. ‘Do you come to the Savoy often?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Right,’ I said. This was like pulling teeth. There was an awkward silence. ‘Are you just having a drink or dining, too?’

‘Dining,’ he said.

The bartender arrived with our drinks and I made eye contact with him. ‘Could you please show me to Lady Cressida’s booth?’

His eyes changed. I was no longer the woman who had pushed herself on to the American drinking at the bar. ‘I’ll be happy to show you, m’lady.’

‘Enjoy your drink,’ I threw casually to Dr. Kane, and swinging my knees to the side was about to slide off the seat, when his hand came out to encircle my wrist.

The sensation of his fingers on my wrist was like a jolt of electricity. My lips parted with surprise. The action was so unexpected, my eyes flew to his hand and then to his face, wide and surprised.

‘I’m sorry I was rude,’ he apologized, withdrawing his hand.

I could feel the heat coming from him and my skin burned where he had touched me. I refrained from rubbing it.

He smiled. ‘I come here for the Omelette Arnold Bennett at The Grill.’

I stared up at him not knowing whether to stay or go.

‘And I like the steak and ale pudding with oysters,’ he added.

I made up my mind. I swung my knees back to the original place and looked at the barman. ‘Perhaps I’ll just wait here until Lady Cressida arrives.’

He nodded politely. ‘Very good, m’lady.’

I picked up the tall, classic Martini glass with its elegantly cut, long piece of lemon peel, and held it up. ‘To your good health.’

‘And yours.’ He lifted his glass to his lips. Good God! He was almost edible with that sexy American vibe oozing out of his pores.

I took a sip of my drink. It was perfectly chilled with just a hint of gin behind the aroma of lemon. ‘Absolutely lovely,’ I murmured, and looked sideways at him. To my surprise he was watching me. I felt my cheeks coloring.

‘I’ve never seen you with your hair down,’ he remarked.

I touched my hair self-consciously. ‘I’m afraid that’s about the only thing I inherited from my mother. Hair that’s too fine to do much with.’

His eyes caressed my hair. ‘No,’ he disagreed softly. ‘I think it’s beautiful. Under these lights it looks like spun gold.’

Flustered, unused to compliments, I set my glass down carefully. ‘You are very charming when you try.’

He put down his empty glass and sighed. ‘And you’re having a bad influence on me.’

I frowned. ‘In what way?’

‘You make me behave in a way that is not entirely proper.’

‘I disagree. I think you have been quite the perfect gentleman.’

He threw his head back and laughed, but it was a harsh sound. ‘You don’t know me very well, it would seem,’ he muttered.

‘Why? What have you done that is improper?’

‘Don’t go there, Olivia.’

I licked my lips nervously. I knew then that our relationship was always going to be fraught. We would always rub each other the wrong way. ‘Do you live nearby?’

His head dipped a little, a gesture that was almost mournful, and I realized that he must have had quite a lot to drink. ‘In Rupert Street.’

‘I know that street. I think I must have known someone who lives there. Which end of the street are you on?’

‘Are you asking my address?’ he asked.

I felt myself flush and stiffen. ‘No, I was just making conversation.’

‘Number 34,’ he said wearily, and swallowed the rest of his drink. I had the impression that he was going to walk away and leave me there.

‘Dr. Kane, why are you so angry with me?’

His head jerked toward me, his eyes wild, his mouth twisted. I stared speechless at the expression in his face. It was almost a snarl, but I couldn’t quite tell what it expressed. I suppose it was similar to touching something and for a fraction of a second being unable to tell whether it was very hot or very cold. I could not tell if he was furiously annoyed or something else. And then the fraction of a second passed and I saw it for what it was. It was a raging desire. So strong he could barely hold it in check.

I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out.

‘Oh, hello,’ a plummy voice trilled close by.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his, but he broke the connection and turned toward the voice.

Cookie. Talk about bad timing. Reluctantly, I turned to face her. A terribly smart woman was standing next to us. My gaze ran quickly over her: attractive face, a shining pageboy bob and trim, horse-rider body clad in a divinely tailored gray and red dress. She was beaming at me, but oh dear, there was not one thing about her I recognized. I sighed inwardly. Oh well, it was going to be a long night.

‘Don’t you look super!’ she exclaimed, before turning her eyes back to Dr. Kane, the merest hint of a smile, like a delicious scandal, playing on her lips. ‘I’ll say, you’re a quick worker. Who on earth is this? You’d better introduce us.’

I introduced them unenthusiastically.

‘How lovely to meet you,’ Dr. Kane said politely, offering his hand. His eyes once again returned to one-way mirrors.

‘How do you do?’ Cookie replied with a breathless laugh. I watched her hand disappear into his large one and remain there, only releasing seconds before they slipped into impropriety. Oh my God, she was flirting with him… Little two-faced bitch.

The ferocity of the thought shocked and horrified me. It was like an ice pick straight into my heart. I dropped my eyes so they would not see how madly jealous I was.

Of course, she invited him to join us, but to my immense relief, he declined her offer. I could not possibly have sat and watched her flirt with him for another minute. Bidding us goodnight, he went to his dinner.

As we walked to our booth, Cookie turned to me with bright eyes. ‘Sorry to barge in on your tender scene.’

‘There was nothing to barge in on,’ I denied.

She gave me a guarded look. ‘That’s all right then. Still, he is rather dishy for an NOCD.’

‘NOCD?’ I asked, puzzled.

She gave me a funny look as if she had just realized that it was going to be a difficult night. ‘Not Our Class, Darling,’ she explained with a patronizing smile.