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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.’
