peeping up at Zack beneath her lashes. ‘One week someone wishes horrible things will happen to shut you up, and the next week, there you go! Just like having your fortune told. Do you read your stars, Dr Zacharius? I always do.’
No, George thought, moving again as a patient in a hurry almost careered into her. I’m being paranoid. Sheila was using one of her chat-up techniques. Even when she’s flat on her back on a trolley, she’s on a manhunt.
She’d already said goodnight firmly to Zack when they’d taken Sheila out of A & E and off to the ward, bearing assurances from George that she’d come to see her on her way into the lab in the morning (to which Sheila responded with a wintry little smile aimed at the gallery) and then had turned to go.
‘No drink?’ Zack had said. ‘By now I was thinking a little supper too mightn’t be a bad idea. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, and it would be easier with elbows on a shared table. There’s a great fish-and-chip placenot too far away that does the best fillet of sole I’ve ever had.’
George, smarting after Sheila’s reception of her, might have wavered, but had immediately stiffened at that. She knew perfectly well which fish-and-chip restaurant he meant: Gus’s star establishment, where the engraved glass windows and the silver on the tables glittered and the fish was the most succulent and the chips the most crisp and golden you’d get anywhere in London — where could it be except in one of Gus’s restaurants? He owned eleven now and they showed no signs of losing their charm for their multitude of customers.
But she couldn’t be seen in one of them tonight. Interested though she was in what Zack wanted to talk about (her native curiosity, always one of her most developed features, had twitched with delicious anticipation at his words) his suggestion of that particular restaurant had reminded her that there was still the possibility that Gus might get home at a reasonable time. She doubted it, but… Well, she wouldn’t eat at the restaurant, all the same. Not with Zack, at any rate.
‘I’m going home, Zack,’ she said. ‘It’s been a bit of an evening one way and another and I’m bushed. See you tomorrow, maybe? And thanks for your help with Sheila.’
‘I did nothing,’ he said, making no attempt to argue with her. ‘I was just there at the time. OK, George. I’ll tell you what I wanted to discuss with you some other time. If it’s not too late.’ He smiled as the shadow of frustrated inquisitiveness passed over her face. ‘Goodnight, then.’ And to her surprise he leaned over and kissed her cheek briefly.
The fact that she had found it rather agreeable made her thoughtful all the way home, as did her itching to know what on earth he might wish to discuss with her; and when she arrived and found that contrary to her expectations Gus was there, she was even more thoughtful.
He was in the kitchen twiddling with various dishes — as usual he had out nearly every pan she possessed — andhappily slicing garlic and ginger into a balsamic marinade. It smelled wonderful and she stood at the kitchen door watching him silently for a moment or two till he looked up and saw her.
‘Hi there, dollychops! How’s this for a bit of a treat?’ he cried and then bent his head to his slicing again. ‘This concoction is going to be stuffed inside that luscious bit o’ sea bass you see over there looking sorry for himself on the draining board, and then he’ll be baked in the oven and we’ll have him with a pan of rosti and some wilted rocket and spinach salad on the side. Who needs fancy chefs when they’ve got me, eh, darlin’?’
She found her voice. ‘That fish looks more furious with you than sorry for itself,’ she said, for indeed the fish did have an evil glitter in its full round eyes, as well as on its silvery sides. ‘I didn’t expect you tonight. You didn’t say —’
‘Surprise, surprise.’ He
No, George thought, moving again as a patient in a hurry almost careered into her. I’m being paranoid. Sheila was using one of her chat-up techniques. Even when she’s flat on her back on a trolley, she’s on a manhunt.
She’d already said goodnight firmly to Zack when they’d taken Sheila out of A & E and off to the ward, bearing assurances from George that she’d come to see her on her way into the lab in the morning (to which Sheila responded with a wintry little smile aimed at the gallery) and then had turned to go.
‘No drink?’ Zack had said. ‘By now I was thinking a little supper too mightn’t be a bad idea. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, and it would be easier with elbows on a shared table. There’s a great fish-and-chip placenot too far away that does the best fillet of sole I’ve ever had.’
George, smarting after Sheila’s reception of her, might have wavered, but had immediately stiffened at that. She knew perfectly well which fish-and-chip restaurant he meant: Gus’s star establishment, where the engraved glass windows and the silver on the tables glittered and the fish was the most succulent and the chips the most crisp and golden you’d get anywhere in London — where could it be except in one of Gus’s restaurants? He owned eleven now and they showed no signs of losing their charm for their multitude of customers.
But she couldn’t be seen in one of them tonight. Interested though she was in what Zack wanted to talk about (her native curiosity, always one of her most developed features, had twitched with delicious anticipation at his words) his suggestion of that particular restaurant had reminded her that there was still the possibility that Gus might get home at a reasonable time. She doubted it, but… Well, she wouldn’t eat at the restaurant, all the same. Not with Zack, at any rate.
‘I’m going home, Zack,’ she said. ‘It’s been a bit of an evening one way and another and I’m bushed. See you tomorrow, maybe? And thanks for your help with Sheila.’
‘I did nothing,’ he said, making no attempt to argue with her. ‘I was just there at the time. OK, George. I’ll tell you what I wanted to discuss with you some other time. If it’s not too late.’ He smiled as the shadow of frustrated inquisitiveness passed over her face. ‘Goodnight, then.’ And to her surprise he leaned over and kissed her cheek briefly.
The fact that she had found it rather agreeable made her thoughtful all the way home, as did her itching to know what on earth he might wish to discuss with her; and when she arrived and found that contrary to her expectations Gus was there, she was even more thoughtful.
He was in the kitchen twiddling with various dishes — as usual he had out nearly every pan she possessed — andhappily slicing garlic and ginger into a balsamic marinade. It smelled wonderful and she stood at the kitchen door watching him silently for a moment or two till he looked up and saw her.
‘Hi there, dollychops! How’s this for a bit of a treat?’ he cried and then bent his head to his slicing again. ‘This concoction is going to be stuffed inside that luscious bit o’ sea bass you see over there looking sorry for himself on the draining board, and then he’ll be baked in the oven and we’ll have him with a pan of rosti and some wilted rocket and spinach salad on the side. Who needs fancy chefs when they’ve got me, eh, darlin’?’
She found her voice. ‘That fish looks more furious with you than sorry for itself,’ she said, for indeed the fish did have an evil glitter in its full round eyes, as well as on its silvery sides. ‘I didn’t expect you tonight. You didn’t say —’
‘Surprise, surprise.’ He
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