‘I’m afraid I didn’t hold out much hope for him.’
‘It was a shock for us,’ she said. ‘He seemed to be doing so well.’
‘He hadn’t heard from his wife for some time,’ Edwin Blake remarked. ‘I think he felt depressed about it, wondering what she was up to.’
‘Poor man.’ Maxine felt the all too familiar stinging behind her eyes.
She glanced up at the man striding alongside. He didn’t usually make any personal comments about the patients, but obviously took it all in. He’d remembered Mr Kingston was a Michael, for a start. Maybe he was human after all. Maybe there was a beating heart underneath his strict exterior.
‘Taxi!’ He suddenly stepped into the road and held up his umbrella. A black cab pulled up and he opened the door for her. ‘It’s a pleasant walk on a summer’s eve,’ he said, settling down beside her in the soft leather seat. ‘But not this evening.’ He raised his eyes skywards. ‘Looks like it could rain. Besides,’ he smiled down at her, ‘I want to pamper you.’
Inside the taxi, his fingers closed over hers. She didn’t want this. It was too soon. But she didn’t want to hurt him by snatching her hand away for the second time. After a few moments she gently extracted it as an excuse to look in her handbag for a handkerchief, and dabbed her nose.
‘You haven’t got a cold coming, have you?’ He sounded concerned.
‘No, no. Probably the dust in the basement.’
‘Because I can’t afford to catch one,’ he said surprisingly. ‘Too many patients relying on me.’
Was he just a little too full of his own importance? She quickly brushed the thought away. He was being sensible, that was all.
They chatted amiably enough until the taxi stopped outside the Ritz. Maxine gasped and Edwin Blake gave her an amused smile.
‘Will it be to your liking, Miss Taylor?’
‘I’m not dressed for anything so grand.’
‘You look perfect.’
A man dressed in a bright red uniform stepped briskly forward and bent to open the car door. ‘Madam,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her out, ‘welcome to the Ritz.’
She gave the man an uncertain smile, lost for words. But it didn’t stop the tingle of excitement she felt as Edwin Blake took her arm and guided her through the door of what many people regarded as the best hotel in London.
Maxine gasped as she stepped into the enormous dining room. It was buzzing with people’s chatter and laughter, but nothing could detract from the surroundings. Her astonished gaze soared upwards to the ethereal painted ceiling, the tall windows richly draped in shining gold-patterned fabric, the bronze chandeliers …
‘Your table, Sir.’ The waiter pulled out an upholstered chair from the table covered in a crisp white cloth and set with gleaming silver cutlery and crystal glasses. ‘Madam.’
As soon as Maxine glanced at the menu, the heat rushed to her cheeks. There were dishes she’d never heard of, let alone could pronounce. Edwin Blake was going to think her such a fool.
As though he felt her confusion, he said, ‘Will you allow me to order for you, Maxine?’
‘I’d be grateful. They look like very fancy dishes with their foreign names.’
He chuckled. ‘They have to keep up the pretence that they’re still serving the finest food even though there’s a war on and rationing. Mind you, they do manage to get good supplies most of the time.’ He bent his head to scan the menu. ‘I recommend the duck à l’orange.’
‘It sounds wonderful,’ Maxine said, not having a clue. She’d never eaten duck before … and with orange … it didn’t sound that appetising. But she was thankful the problem had been taken out of her hands.
‘So now you can relax.’ Edwin Blake smiled at her. ‘The Ritz will do all the work. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.’
It was meant to be a compliment, she was sure, but her skin prickled. She wasn’t some empty-headed young girl, even though she’d pointed out she wasn’t on his level. She’d meant he held a high position in the hospital, not that he was her superior in every shape and form. Whatever had made her make such a comment?
‘Here’s to a normal civilised evening in the madness of this bloody war,’ Edwin said, raising his glass. ‘And I say “bloody” as that’s exactly what it is – in more ways than one.’
She raised her glass towards his and smiled. ‘I second that.’
The wine tasted good even though she wasn’t very used to it. She allowed the liquid to roll over her tongue, relishing such a delightful flavour of peach, as it slid luxuriously down her throat.
‘Do you read poetry?’
His sudden question made her start. ‘I did … at school.’
‘It’s good for the soul.’ Edwin’s eyes met hers. ‘Have you a favourite poet?’
‘N-no.’ Desperately she searched her mind for a familiar name. ‘Well, I did like Byron.’
‘Ah, Lord Byron.’ He kept his gaze on her. ‘He was a rum cove. I’m surprised he’s your favourite. Goes a bit close to the mark sometimes, in my opinion.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean?’ Oh, God, what had she started?
‘Very risqué. Not sure young ladies should be reading such stuff.’
‘I was far away from being a “young lady” at fifteen when I first read Byron,’ she said, her tone a little more clipped than she meant. ‘I don’t suppose I understood half of it, but I remember we used to giggle over some of the passages.’
He raised an eyebrow and she was thankful when the waiter brought their soup. It was time for her to change the subject, even if only to comment on the food.
‘It’s delicious,’ she said truthfully.
‘One wouldn’t expect it to be any different at the Ritz.’ He smiled, dipping his spoon in.
‘What made you come to St Thomas’?’ she asked him, feeling on more familiar ground.
‘It’s a good teaching hospital – or was, what’s left of it. That’s really my forte – teaching. But they’re talking of opening a place in Guildford – a medical school – so I’ll likely be transferred.’
She felt a tiny quiver of disappointment. ‘I imagine all the hospitals are finding it difficult. There’s—’
‘Let’s not talk about work,’ he cut in. ‘I want to get to know you, Maxine. And for heaven’s sake call me Edwin – when we’re off duty, of course.’
So he’s expecting to see me again.
‘Is there a young
