She hesitated. If there was one person she didn’t want to see her, it was Max. Suave and handsome, and very different to the usual men she dated, Max was a dangerous temptation. So far she had resisted his allure, telling herself he was too old – he was twice her age for heaven’s sake! But on the several occasions he had taken her for dinner, each time after watching the play she was in, he had stirred within her the strongest of desires. He dazzled her with his charm and wit. He spoke of art and books, and a world of travel to places she had never imagined visiting – South America, India, deserted islands of the Polynesian coast. Afterwards he would see her home and linger on the doorstep outside the mansion building where her flat was. It had taken a lot of willpower not to invite him up, settling instead for a kiss on the cheek.
‘Isabella?’
‘I can’t let you in,’ she croaked, ‘not when I look so dreadful.’
‘Put your vanity aside and let me in, you silly girl. I’ve come to mop your brow, not seduce you.’
Accepting that it would be churlish to send him away, she tied the belt of her dressing gown around her waist, as though for protection, and unlocked the door.
And there he stood, a vision of dreamy perfection in hischarcoal-grey overcoat, a burgundy coloured woollen scarf around his neck, and smelling divinely of cologne. In one hand he held a bouquet of flowers and in the other, a basket of what appeared to be fruit. He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him.
‘They told me at the theatre you were unwell,’ he said, ‘that this bloody smog had knocked you for six. And I can see they weren’t exaggerating. You poor, poor thing.’
His sympathy was too much. ‘Don’t,’ she said, ‘I’m not in any condition to be on the receiving end of kindness. I shall start blubbing like a baby.’
‘I have seen a person cry before, you know. Now then,’ he said allbusiness-like, ‘point me in the direction of the kitchen and I shall put this lot in there, and then I shall settle you back in bed. After that, I shall make you something to eat. When was the last time you ate?’
‘I ... I don’t remember. And I’m not really hungry.’
He tutted. ‘Don’t fight me, Isabella, you don’t have the energy.’
What resistance she still possessed vanished under his firmness, and before she knew it, she was sitting up in bed, the sheets and blankets straightened, and the pillows plumped and positioned for maximum comfort.
‘There now,’ he said, a short while later and placing a tray on her lap. ‘A mug of tomato soup and a round of cucumber sandwiches cut into tempting triangles, the crusts removed. The best remedy I know for reviving an ailing patient.’
‘How did you manage all this,’ she asked, staring at the tray, while he put a fresh jug of water and a clean glass on the bedside table. Asmuddle-headed as the fever had made her, she could have sworn he’d have had as much chance of finding gold bars in the kitchen as anything fresh and wholesome to eat.
‘I came prepared,’ he said, ‘like Little Red Riding Hood with a basket of nourishment.’
‘More like the Big Bad Wolf,’ she said.
He dragged thevelvet-covered stool over from her dressing table and placed it next to the bed. ‘Is that how you see me?’ he asked, when he was seated.
‘I’m not sure how I should see you,’ she replied. ‘Or how you want me to consider you?’
He smiled, causing starbursts of lines to deepen around his eyes. ‘Drink your soup while it’s hot,’ he said. ‘We’ll discuss weightier matters when you’re better.’
She lifted the mug of soup, put it against her dry lips and took a cautious sip. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ she asked, not really knowing what he did, other than he said he was just a boring civil servant.
‘How can I work when there’s a medical emergency to deal with?’
‘I’m hardly that.’
‘I remember all too well the smog of 1952. So let me determine what is, and what isn’t an emergency. Okay?’
She nodded and drank some more of the soup, then nibbled on a sandwich. Although she had claimed not to have any appetite, she was now glad of something to eat. All the while she ate, Max’s eyes never wavered from her face. ‘Stop watching me,’ she said, ‘you’re making me nervous.’
‘That makes two of us.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Later,’ he said. ‘Weightier matters for when you’re feeling stronger.’
Not daring to wonder what he meant, she said, ‘Tell me about you and Evelyn.’ Ever since they’d met, she had been curious about him knowing Evelyn. To Isabella’s knowledge her aunt had never once mentioned the handsome and charismatic man sitting here by the side of her bed. To her surprise, Max suddenly looked awkward.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘How did you two meet?’
