His Frozen Heart

by Georgia Le Carre

  ‘“Should I ask you every day?” She says, “That’s a good idea.” And then Ivana comes into the room. It is my bedtime. “Goodnight, Mummy.”

  ‘“See you in the morning, darling,” she says kissing the top of my head. “I’ll put her to bed,” Ivana says. “Yes, do that,” Mummy says, but her voice is flat and unemotional. At the door I turn back and my mother is staring at me. There is a worried look on her face. When our eyes meet she smiles brightly. “Sweet dreams,” she says.’

  I looked at my watch. Her time was almost up. I instructed her to forget the first memory, and then brought her out. She opened her beautiful eyes and trained them on me.

  ‘Thank you for helping me recover that memory. It was very precious.’ She touched her temples. ‘Did I cry?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said standing up.

  ‘I don’t remember crying.’ Her eyes were silver.

  ‘Just stray emotions,’ I said and moved before the moment could stretch, but damn, I liked her. I liked her way too much.

  Chapter 8

  Baryl

  To anyone who did not know Dr. Kane, he might appear aloof and uninterested in Lady O. It might even seem as if he was bored by her and couldn’t wait for her to leave, but I knew better. In all the time I’ve known Dr. Kane, and I’ve known him for nearly eighteen months now, I had never once seen him look at a woman the way he looked at Lady O. He looked at her with the kind of longing that lusting after something forbidden brings. For her part, she blushed every time he even looked in her direction. But more than a month later and they were still no closer.

  Enter Beryl the matchmaker.

  I reached into the side-drawer of my desk and pulled out my make-up bag. Rummaging through the contents I removed my compact and opened it. I had not slept well last night and I looked pale, lackluster and in need of a dash of color. I dug around again in my bag, unscrewed a lipstick, and applied a fresh layer of Berry Kiss.

  ‘That’s better,’ I told myself and chucked everything back into the bag. I zipped it up, shoved it back into the drawer and closed it with a firm push. Then I clasped my hands on the surface of my desk and glanced again at the clock. The session should be over any time now.

  I looked over to the tray already loaded with the tea service and a plate of prettily arranged slices of lemon cake. Dr. Kane, I knew was partial to cake. My eyes strayed to the red light on my console that indicated the soundproof room was in use. As I watched it went off. Lady O’s session was over and they were back in his office.

  Right. No more dithering.

  I pulled myself upright, squared my shoulders and walked over to Dr. Kane’s door. I knocked on it decisively and waited. When I heard his voice, I turned the door handle and breezed in with a wide smile. Both of them, but especially Dr. Kane, looked up at me questioningly.

  ‘My sister made a lemon cake yesterday. Would you like a slice with some tea?’ I offered brightly.

  Dr. Kane stared at me with disbelief. He knew exactly what I was up to.

  Unable to hold his direct gaze I swiveled around to Lady O. ‘You have to try a slice. I promise you, you’ll never taste anything more delicious,’ I babbled, the words tumbling over each other. To be honest I was unnerved by the look on my employer’s face. Maybe this was a bad idea.

  Lady O smiled, genuinely pleased. ‘That would be lovely...if it’s no trouble,’ she paused and turned towards Dr. Kane, ‘and if it’s all right with Dr. Kane, of course.’

  ‘Oh, Dr. Kane loves cake,’ I said quickly. ‘And it’s no trouble. Everything’s ready. I’ll just go and get it.’ Avoiding his eyes I turned on my heel and exited the office.

  I switched on the kettle, poured the boiling water into the teapot and placing it on the waiting tray, carried it into Dr. Kane’s office. Without asking them where they wanted the tray I laid it on the coffee table in front of the settee.

  I turned around and addressed Lady O. ‘I’m a bit late for a hair appointment so you won’t mind pouring, will you Lady Olivia?’

  ‘Of course not. Thank you, Beryl,’ she replied in that polite, totally gorgeous accent of hers.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ I called gaily to no one, and quickly made my escape.

  Chapter 9

  Olivia

  You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that Beryl left behind. For a few uncomfortable seconds neither of us moved. Then I stood. The suddenness of my action made his gaze skid involuntarily down my body and come to rest on the curve of my hips.

  ‘How nice of Beryl,’ I commented, and moved towards the couch.

  ‘Yes, very nice,’ he agreed, dryly. Poor Beryl. She was going to get an earful tomorrow.

  I sat with my knees drawn close together in front of the tray and began to pour the tea. He did not immediately join me, but watched from behind his desk. My movements felt clumsy and jerky and I was very relieved when I did not spill anything. I placed the teapot back on the tray and looked up at him.

  ‘Milk?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said and standing up, strolled over to the couch. He had a really sexy walk. More of a prowl than a walk. I dragged my eyes away from him and he lowered his hard male body next to me and leaned back with his legs spread wide. His trouser clad knee was inches away from my leg. Scent: warm man. How extraordinary, I wanted to curl into it. Every brain cell in my head lit up with the knowledge. His nearness in a social context made me feel jittery and out of sorts, like one of those cartoon animals that gets electrocuted and their eyes pop and all their fur stands on end.

  ‘Sugar?’ My voice was squeaky with nervousness.

  ‘Two. Thank you.’

  I dropped the cubes into his cup and passed it to him. I was mortified to hear the cup rattling on the saucer. My gaze collided with his, and good gracious, up this close, his eyes were the stuff poets write about, molten gold and piercingly intense. He took the offered tea. My gaze dropped to the discreet watch peeking out of his shirt cuff, and his hand; big, the fingers elegant, and the nails cut square. Without taking a sip he put the cup and saucer back on the table.

  From the corner of my eyes I could see him rubbing the side of his face reflectively. I leaned forward, my demeanor stiff and awkward, and picking up the plate of cake held it out to him.

  He took a slice and bit into it.

  I stared. And gulped. Wow! I could hear my pulse throbbing in my ear. All kinds of crazy thoughts were running through my head. I imagined his mouth on the tips of my breast, along the inside of my thighs, between my thighs where I had begun to throb. My reaction to this man was extraordinarily sexual and confusing. I wondered what was beneath all those clothes. I wanted to feel him with my tongue. I frowned. I couldn’t understand where these bold and inappropriate thoughts were coming from. Were they coming from behind the veil? Was I a very sexual being?

  ‘Are you all right?’ He was staring at me. A single frown line furrowed his forehead.

  ‘Yes, absolutely,’ I choked, horribly embarrassed. I turned away from him, hastily picked up a slice of cake, and took a bite out of it. It tasted of nothing in my mouth. It could have been sawdust I was chewing. I tried desperately to find something to talk about, but there was not a single thing in my head I could find to say. I swallowed the tasteless lump and reached for my cup. Taking a sip I dared a sideways glance at him.

  ‘This cake is absolutely delicious,’ I said.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed quietly, popping the rest of his cake into his mouth.

  I put the cup down and licked my lower lip. ‘Do you like being a hypnotherapist?’

  The frown was back. ‘It is what I do at the moment,’ he replied.

  I was both curious and consumed by an intense curiosity about him. ‘So you don’t like it?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s a temporary fix.’ His voice discouraged any further questioning.

  I smoothed down the wrinkles in my skirt as if doing so could smoothen out my thoughts. When I looked up he was staring at my hands.

 
; ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘You have such delicate little hands. I bet all the boys fall over themselves to protect you,’ he said softly.

  ‘I don’t remember any boys wanting to protect me,’ I said, nervously rolling the buttery orbs on the two-string pearl necklace around my throat between my fingers.

  His eyes flashed. He moved forward suddenly and rested his forearms on his thighs. ‘To be honest, I’m not really a tea person. If you don’t mind I’ll have a whiskey.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  He stood and went to his desk. I watched him pour himself a generous measure of whiskey, and while still behind the desk, take a long mouthful. He made his way back to the couch more warily and sat down closer to the arm of the couch, significantly further away from me.

  I leaned back and turned my head in his direction. He was looking into his drink and there was only one word to describe his eyelashes—lush. Seen from that angle they undid all his efforts to be taciturn, armored and completely impenetrable. He was like a peeled snail, achingly vulnerable. It made me want to stroke the tanned skin stretched across his cheekbone. He looked up suddenly. The silence stretched, holding within its body more than words we could have said. The air seemed thick with something. Our bodies were talking to each other.

  But we both knew. Our politeness and evasion of the unspoken was chilling because it appeared to be set in concrete. As if it was the proper order of things that we were two people who could never be anything but strangers, unable even to carry a normal conversation.

  A sense of urgency overtook me. Soon, even this moment would be gone, squandered away. It was already nearly over. I turned toward him, determined not to let it end this way.

  ‘My sister told me a joke today,’ I said.

  His eyebrows rose.

  ‘A filthy one.’

  One side of his lips curved upward, sensual and unbelievably inviting.

  ‘Want to hear it?’ I asked with a cheeky look.

  That beautiful smile widened. ‘Of course.’

  ‘OK. A German Shepherd and a terrier meet at the vet. The terrier looks so sad that the German Shepherd asks it why it is there. The terrier says, “I’m here because last night after my mistress came out of the bath she bent down to towel dry her feet, and her bum cheeks looked so smooth and inviting I jumped up and bit one of them.” The German Shepherd shakes his head in surprise; “By golly, almost the same thing happened to me. My mistress bent down after her bath, but in my case I jumped up on her back and gave her one.” The terrier is shocked. “Oh my God,” he says. “So you’re here to be put down too.”

  Exactly as my sister had done I curled my fingers in towards my palms so they looked like paws, and looked at them while I delivered the punch line. ‘The German Shepherd says, “Oh no, I’m just here to have my nails done.”’

  I turned to look at him and he was laughing. Really laughing. Body relaxed. Mouth open. Beautiful straight teeth on show. Warmth and joy flowed out of him. I laughed too. And suddenly I knew it could be so different with us. So different.

  Our eyes touched and locked. He stopped laughing. For a few seconds we stared at each other, a current of super-charged energy sizzling through us. His eyes widened slightly. Then he stood, his movement abrupt and final.

  ‘It’s getting late. I’ll show you out.’

  Chapter 10

  Olivia

  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 A
merican 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.