‘It’s Christmas the day after tomorrow. I can’t do anything – think of anything – until that’s over. He’ll need me over the holiday, perhaps for weeks to come. His chest’s so bad in winter. I must give some time to him.’ January was almost over now and she’d heard nothing from David. She was on the edge and unable to sleep. She resisted the temptation to find his home telephone number; almost rang Baron & Lampton’s, but hadn’t the nerve to. When at the end of January David rang her while she was in the office, her heart leapt and thumped so much she felt physically sick, having to breathe deeply to calm herself down. ‘I thought I ought not to get in touch too soon,’ he said, his voice clipped and rapid, though he tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Do you think we could meet for lunch – same place as before?’ Her words tumbled out with equal haste. ‘That’d be nice – yes, I suppose I could.’ ‘Saturday? This Saturday? Or if you like dinner in the evening?
