‘Would you like some water?’ Charlotte was still on her feet, leaning across the table to place a beaker of water in front of Isaac.
‘No, thank you. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get some wine.’
She hesitated. Clearly debating whether or not she was going to allow him to contribute to the meal even in this way. ‘Um...yes. Thank you. That would be nice.’
Edward got to his feet and went to the kitchen, fetching a couple of glasses and a bottle from the chiller. When he returned he was gratified to find that she’d done as he’d asked, and was sitting, her hands in her lap.
He placed a glass in front of her, uncorked the bottle and poured.
‘Thanks. That’s enough.’
She’d only let him half fill the glass but that was okay. It was the principle of it. Something had been accepted into the routine that they were building.
Isaac was watching his every move, eyes wide as saucers. ‘Can I have some?’
‘No, sweetie, this is for grown-ups.’ Charlotte quietened him with a quick look.
‘Pleeeease.’ Isaac was obviously unused to not sharing everything with his mother.
‘I’ve got something better for you.’
Edward gave him a conspiratorial grin and the boy quietened. He went to fetch a sturdier glass from the kitchen cupboard—not the fine crystal that he’d given to Charlotte, but a nice-looking faceted tumbler—and grabbed a bottle of sparkling raspberry cordial from the fridge.
‘Here you are.’ He set the glass in front of Isaac and filled it. ‘Try this.’
He sat down, aware that Charlotte’s smile was on him. It seemed to slide into his senses, warm and tingling, like fine brandy. Isaac took a sip from his glass and gave the same nod of approval that his mother had given when she’d tasted her wine. He was a part of this little treat.
Funnily enough, Edward felt a part of it, too. Eating together...praising Charlotte on the meal. Hearing the silly jokes passing between Isaac and Charlotte, which both of them expected him to laugh at, too. He was probably expected to tell a few, as well, but he couldn’t think of any that they might like at the moment. But even that didn’t seem to matter.
The doorbell rang.
Isaac jumped and would have spilled his drink if Edward hadn’t put out a hand to steady it. Instead his fork slithered to the floor, bouncing across the rug and clattering noisily on the wooden parquet.
‘Let’s not answer that.’ Edward shot a grin at the boy. Doorbells didn’t appear to be his favourite thing at the moment, and who could blame him?
‘It’s okay.’ Charlotte passed her own fork over to Isaac and bent to retrieve his. ‘It might be something important.’
Isaac’s gaze pleaded silently with him.
‘So what if it is? We’re eating.’ A feeling of bravado, quite out of proportion with the deed, sparked in Edward’s chest.
‘But it could be a friend. Someone you know.’
Unlikely. And if it were they’d know him well enough not to give up after the first ring. Opening the door when the bell rang was one of those things that Edward classed as optional.
‘If it is they’ll ring again. Or phone me.’ Edward generally picked up the phone. Unless he was in the middle of something really interesting.
She laughed. ‘Aren’t you even curious?’
Edward shrugged. ‘It’s probably someone wanting to sell me something.’ And, anyway, he was making a point.
‘And a man’s home is his castle, eh?’
‘Er...possibly. In a manner of speaking.’ It was certainly somewhere that his mind could wander freely. Explore the nuances that everyday life seemed to ignore so heedlessly. He hadn’t thought about the aspect of fortification, though...
Charlotte leaned towards him. ‘It’s just an expression. One size fits all.’
She was smiling at him, and that smile seemed to banish all thoughts of whether, either in truth or in paradigm, his home really was a castle. All he could do in the face of such unarguable persuasion was smile back.
‘Yeah. Well, then, whatever size my home is...’ he flipped a glance towards Isaac, hoping he’d get the point ‘...or I am, it’s definitely a castle. Which means I don’t have to answer the doorbell if I don’t want to.’
Isaac seemed to understand and turned his attention back to his meal. Charlotte was more difficult to satisfy.
‘So... Don’t you think you’re missing out on something?’
‘Like what?’ Like the world that she seemed to inhabit? The one where she seemed to navigate chance meetings and random conversations so easily.
‘I don’t know. That’s the thing, isn’t it?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s no one. And, anyway, we’re eating.’ He turned back to the plate in front of him. ‘And this is very good.’
CHAPTER SIX
CHARLOTTE HAD STACKED the dishwasher, sat with Isaac until he started to yawn, and then taken him up to bed. She tucked him in, along with Stinky, in the small second guest room which adjoined her own, and closed the connecting door between the two. Isaac had slept soundly for the last two nights, and showed no signs of doing anything else tonight.
Edward had seen to it that Isaac should feel at home here. When he’d taken them both back to the house on Saturday afternoon he’d filled the boot of his car with Isaac’s things—toys, games, clothes—so that he shouldn’t wake in the night and find himself in a completely strange place. Somehow the molecule modelling kit had found its way up here, too, and Charlotte wondered whether Edward had put it there. The thought made her smile.
When she got back downstairs the room was silent. Edward was in an easy chair with his nose in a book. Not wanting to disturb him, Charlotte retreated to the kitchen and set about cutting sandwiches for Isaac’s lunch tomorrow.
It was awkward being alone with him. At work, and when Isaac was around, she had a reason to ignore the desire to touch him. Now it was just him and her, and the empty space between them seemed almost to be daring her to breach it.
She’d finished the sandwiches, and was sitting at the kitchen table wondering what to do next, when the door opened quietly.
‘Hey.’
‘Oh...’ She jumped, almost spilling the cup of coffee in front of her. Suddenly she noticed that the deep blue open-necked shirt he’d pulled on when he got home emphasised the colour of his eyes. ‘You’re busy. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
He shook his head, as if the concept were new to him. It probably was. Short of a nuclear explosion, it was practically impossible to divert his attention away from what he was doing at work. ‘You don’t need to sit in here, you know.’
‘Yes... I mean, no. I mean... I don’t want to get in the way.’
‘You aren’t. I’d appreciate the company.’
He meant it. Edward who had always seemed so aloof at work, so self-sufficient. And yet he’d surprised her by seeming to understand just how she and Isaac felt. There was a great deal more to Edward than met the eye.
‘Me, too. I’ll...make some coffee, shall I?’ She looked at the mug of instant in front of her. ‘Some fresh coffee.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll do it.’ His mouth quirked. ‘Refreshments and snacks don’t count as cooking.’
His quiet, dry humour curled around her like a delicious full-bodied chuckle. ‘Oh. So you’re beginning to chip away at our bargain, are you?’
‘I don’t think so. I don’t remember any mention of brewing, looking in the fridge, or pouring.’ He measured the coffee into the machine and switched it on. ‘And I certainly don’t recall having covered electrical appliances.’
She smiled at him. ‘I’m going to have to watch myself, aren’t I? Next time I make a bargain with you, I’ll make sure I read the small print.’
Did
that sound a bit too forward? Hopefully everything would be settled in a few days’ time and she would be on her way back home. Edward would forget her as he moved on to his next project of interest.
‘Yeah. Always read the small print.’
He flipped open the cupboard doors and pulled out two cups, his long fingers placing them precisely on the counter. He had a delicate touch. He had to have. Microsurgery was one of the most challenging disciplines in a challenging world. And Edward was the best at what he did—just like everyone else at 200 Harley Street.
He made the coffee and picked up her cup with his own, taking it into the sitting room, as if unsure whether she might follow otherwise. Charlotte perched herself on the sofa, casting around for something that she could make conversation about.
‘This is a lovely room.’
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do you play the piano much?’ From the wide-ranging collection of CDs on his shelves, and the grand piano, Edward was obviously passionate about music. In the three days that she and Isaac had been here, though, he’d never once opened the piano. Never once switched on the high-end audio equipment.
‘Most days. Do you play?’
‘No. I love listening, though.’
He must have changed his routine because of her presence. Maybe she could encourage him to change it back again.
Edward didn’t move. ‘I wouldn’t want to wake Isaac.’
‘You won’t. He’s upstairs and he’s fast asleep.’
Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. Maybe this was something private, that Edward didn’t like to share.
It was something private—she could see it in the way he hesitated. But then he made his decision, jumping up and striding across the room. Charlotte tried not to notice the ease with which he lifted the heavy lid, or the way that his shoulder flexed as he propped it open. Suddenly his mastery over the large, shining instrument was physical, as well as just a matter of the mind.
Sitting down, he raised the lid from the keyboard and lowered his fingers onto the keys. ‘Any requests?’
For a moment she couldn’t think. Then Charlotte knew what she really wanted to hear. ‘Something you like.’
He nodded. Charlotte was expecting something classical, but the soft strains of Ain’t Misbehavin’ started to float across the room. Mesmerised, she moved closer and he beckoned her over, shifting up on the long piano seat to make room for her.
She swallowed hard. The music invited her. The way he made the song sound as if it had been written just for her. His sensitive fingers stroked the keys. Charlotte wanted nothing more at that moment than to sit next to him, be a part of this world. His world.
He raised one eyebrow at her hesitation, and the music swelled in reproach. She gave in and slid onto the edge of the stool, angling her body away from his.
‘You’ll fall off...’
The music dropped to a few notes, played with his left hand, while his right arm curled around her waist, pulling her further onto the stool. She was not quite touching him, and the seat was plenty long enough for two, but that didn’t seem to make any difference. She could practically feel his body moving against hers.
There were a few chords that seemed to be his own addition to the mix, and then he segued into As Time Goes By.
‘Mmm. Love this one.’ She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.
‘Yeah. Kind of sad... Haunting.’ He added an extra verse and chorus onto the end and then smoothly moved on into another melody that she couldn’t name, but which she recognised from an old film.
‘You like this?’
‘I feel I should be in a cocktail dress and expensive jewellery. Leaning against the piano and sipping... I wonder what they were drinking in Casablanca?’
He chuckled. ‘Champagne?’
‘You remember?’
‘No. Just a guess. I’ve got a bottle somewhere, if you’d like some.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘No. I don’t have the cocktail dress.’ Or the jewellery. Her mother’s ruby necklace, the one that she thought she’d never part with, had been sold and the money spent on the bricks and mortar of her house. The one that she’d been driven out of just a few days ago.
He seemed about to say something, then stopped himself. Moved on to play another song. The soft, melancholy chords filled the air around them.
Suddenly the music stopped. ‘Hey... Hey, what’s the matter?’
She felt him turn, but didn’t raise her head. She didn’t want Edward to see the tears.
Too late.
His fingers touched her arm, hesitantly at first, and then more resolute. She felt his arm around her and, try as she might, couldn’t bring herself to break away from him.
‘It’s nothing. Just the music.’
‘Much as I’d like to think that it was my playing that moved you to tears, I doubt it.’
She wanted to hold on to him. It felt so natural to do so. But she shouldn’t. She’d always been a sucker for the quiet type, and the last one she’d got involved with had almost destroyed her life.
‘I...I’m just afraid that I’m going to lose everything. And you’ve been so kind...’
‘You’re not going to lose anything.’
He hugged her tight and she gave in and buried her face against the protective arc of his chest.
‘Did you ring my father this afternoon?’
‘Yeah. I’ve arranged to leave work early tomorrow and go and see him.’
‘Good. You can stop worrying, then. He’ll sort this out for you.’
‘I know. Thank you. I’m just being silly.’
She felt his fingers stroking her hair. Just for a moment, before he snatched his hand away again. This must be torture for someone like Edward. So self-contained, so controlled. He didn’t really do tears. She tried to move away from him, but his arm kept her firmly in place.
‘You’re not being silly. You lost everything once. It’s natural to fear that it’ll happen again.’ He drew back, holding her shoulders tightly. Bending to capture her gaze in his. ‘It’s not going to. You’re going to fight it.’
‘I haven’t got anything to fight with. All my savings are gone, and...’ She couldn’t even say it. The money was just a number. It was the loss of little things that she’d hoped she’d always keep that hurt the most. Memories...presents that people had given her over the years. The cot which, at one time, she’d hoped might see some more use. All Isaac’s baby stuff. It hadn’t fetched much, but every penny had counted when she’d been trying to put the deposit on the house together.
He shook his head. ‘I wish you’d told someone. The clinic might have arranged an employee loan, or if not...’ He pressed his lips together, apparently not wanting to finish the ‘or if not’.
‘I’d only been there for a couple of months. I was just glad to have the job. The extra income meant I could make the mortgage. Anyway...it would just have been another debt that I couldn’t pay back.’
‘So you sold everything you had?’ His grip on her shoulders relaxed and his hands slid down to her elbows.
‘Pretty much.’ Charlotte put it to the back of her mind. ‘But that’s okay. Things are easier now. I’ve had a pay rise, and the first year’s always the worst with a mortgage.’
‘And I guess the extra shifts come in handy?’
He’d noticed, then. The way that she grabbed every bit of overtime that came her way, even though it meant that she had less time to spend with Isaac. ‘Yes, they do.’
‘You’ve worked hard. No one’s going to take that from you. Just explain everything to my father and let him sort it out. And in the meantime you can stay here. Isaac seems...well, he doesn’t seem to mind the arrangement.’
‘You’ve made us both very welcome. Being here has be
en so good for Isaac.’ It was Edward who had been good for Isaac, not the house. Providing a broad pair of shoulders that her son felt he could rely on. For that matter, he’d been good for Charlotte, as well.
‘You can stay as long as you like.’
‘Thank you. But we won’t outstay our welcome.’
Like always, his smile was reticent, hard won, but all the better for it.
‘Then I think we’ll be okay. I can outlast you.’
No doubt he could. At the moment Charlotte reckoned that she had about ten minutes before she made a fool of herself and threw herself into his arms if she didn’t find something to distract him.
‘Will you play something else?’
* * *
Edward couldn’t get the image out of his head. Charlotte in a dark figure-hugging dress. Something sparkly at her wrist and around her neck and a glass of champagne in her hand. Leaning against the piano, the gold flecks in her eyes reflecting the light better than any jewel could.
He played for a while on autopilot, while he added the fine detail to his vision. Then the real Charlotte broke in, her body warm and moving to the rhythm next to his.
‘You’ll have plenty of offers if you ever decide to give up the day job.’
Her smile made him stop thinking and start feeling as he ran his hands across the keyboard in a short, improvised cascade of notes.
‘I used to play in a bar. When I was at medical school.’
‘Yeah?’
‘It paid better than stacking shelves. And I got to keep the tips as well.’
‘Tips are always good.’
‘Yeah. Made a big difference.’
‘I bet you spent them on books.’
‘Um... Yeah. Okay, you’re making me feel predictable again.’
With Charlotte he could begin to fathom what people saw in small talk. It was easy. Delightful. Maybe they were getting a little too close to flirting, but that would be okay as long as he kept playing. Somehow the music made pretty much anything permissible.
200 Harley Street: The Enigmatic Surgeon Page 6