‘Did you remember that you always have the tempura here?’ she asked.
Again I felt the rug pulled out from under my feet. I had no memory of ever ordering tempura. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever coming to this restaurant. ‘Did I?’ I asked.
‘Yes, always,’ she confirmed merrily as she picked up an oyster, expertly detached it from its shell, and delicately swallowed it. She pulled a face. ‘The caviar is not very good.’
I picked up my knife and fork in an effort to be casual. ‘Daphne, you were telling me about Dr. Kane.’
‘Yes, it was a terrific shame. He had to leave the States in disgrace. Completely ruined his career.’
‘Why?’ I whispered.
‘I gather she had planned it so he would see them all burn. Eye witnesses said she looked directly at him and smiled.’ She shuddered. ‘It was one of those revenge suicides.’
‘How absolutely awful.’
She helped herself to another oyster. ‘Yes, ghastly. Especially when you take into account that he had treated her with some experimental new method he pioneered and helped her recover memories of childhood sexual abuse.’ She dabbed her mouth and took a slow sip of wine. ‘I expect he had ruined her and she hated him and wanted him to know that he had. And she took the children with her so he wouldn’t be able to do the same with them.’
My mind went blank with dismay. ‘How absolutely awful,’ I repeated stupidly.
‘Probably why he wants to take it slow with you. He’s afraid that history might repeat itself.’
I leaned back, my appetite gone, and looked through the full-height windows at Hyde Park. ‘I’m not suicidal.’ I brought my gaze back to her. ‘Am I?’
She laughed, carefree as a bird, and picked up another oyster. ‘Obviously not, silly. But from his point of view—once bitten, twice shy, and all that. I’d be careful, all the same, that you don’t go falling for him. He is attractive.’ She paused with a conspiratorial half-smile. ‘In an obvious, common sort of way, I suppose.’ The mollusc slipped noiselessly down her throat.
The remark was so catty it took my breath away and the rest of the meal passed in a daze of gossip about people we knew. I answered all her questions automatically or nodded and shook my head where appropriate.
The black cod marinated in sweet miso sauce arrived soon after and I consumed it without tasting it. I watched Daphne delicately nibble at razored vegetables and chow down Nobo’s signature dish, yellowtail sashimi fired with a slice of jalapeño in yuzu dressing.
A waiter tried to get us to look at the dessert menu.
‘I couldn’t do pudding, but I wouldn’t mind the Suntory whiskey cappuccino,’ Daphne said sweetly.
I picked up the bill and then we were outside kissing.
The valet brought her car around and handed her the keys with impressive sucking up. She passed him a ten-pound note. He seemed happy with it.
‘Do you need a ride to your flat?’ she asked.
I shook my head. ‘It’s a lovely day. I’d like to walk for a bit before I go back.’
We kissed each other quickly on both cheeks.
‘Cheer up, darling. It might never happen.’
I smiled weakly.
‘Will you be home for the weekend?’ By home she meant Marlborough Hall. Even though we both had apartments in London and spent more time there, we never referred to them as home. Only Marlborough Hall was ever called home.
‘Yes, I suppose I will,’ I said quietly.
‘Well, I’m off. See you at the weekend,’ she called and slipped jauntily into her Audi. I watched her drive away before I set off on my walk.
It was a cold, crisp day and I turned my collar up and walked past the car showroom. They had a bright yellow Lamborghini in the window. I walked down Park Lane, crossed the road, and entered the park.
The afternoon sun had come out from behind the clouds. The blades of grass looked as clear-cut and bright as jewels. I strolled to a bench and sat down. The park was peaceful with only a few people hurrying along the path. I looked at the bare trees waiting for spring to clothe them again, and sensed inside me a puzzled wonder.
Why exactly was I so troubled by what Daphne had revealed?
And then I knew. It pained me to think of him suffering. More than anything else, I couldn’t bear the thought of him in distress. The sun dipped behind thick clouds again and the temperature began to drop fast.
I stood and left the park, now filled with lengthening shadows. I made a wide circuit round it and came out of the screen of fluted Ionic columns of Aspley Gate. As I hurried away the last rays of the weak evening sun flared briefly on the windows of the Hilton across the road. Then it was gone. I clutched the edges of my coat, and carried on past Green Park Tube station. Up ahead I crossed the street and entered the Ritz.