Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,65

hated it.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘But I play pieces as well. Scales alone would drive anyone crazy, even a pro musician.’

‘What is your favourite piece to play?’ I asked.

‘Bach’s Violin Concerto in E major,’ she said. ‘But, of course, I play it on the viola.’

‘Doesn’t it sound all wrong?’

She laughed. ‘No, of course not. It sounds fine. Take the song “Yesterday”, you know the one, by the Beatles. It can be played on the piano, the guitar, the violin or anything else. It still sounds like “Yesterday”, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose so,’ I said, humming it.

I looked at my watch. It was six o’clock. The sun, if not exactly over the yardarm, was well into its descent from the zenith so I opened the wine and we sat and drank it, contented in each other’s company.

Caroline cooked fresh salmon with a parsley sauce, new potatoes and salad, and it was delicious. We sat together on the sofa and ate it on our laps while watching a satirical news programme on the television. Real domesticity.

As she had planned, Caroline didn’t sleep in my bedroom.

But, there again, neither did I.

CHAPTER 11

Caroline got up early and called herself a taxi.

‘Was it something I said?’ I asked.

‘Oh no,’ she said, laughing. ‘It’s just that I have to get back to London. I’ve got a meeting at the RPO offices in Clerkenwell Green. I want to convince them to let me fly out for the rest of the tour.’

She sat on the end of the bed in my spare room putting on some black socks. I sat up and pulled her back until she was again lying next to me, in my arms.

‘I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad it did.’

I did mean for it to happen, and I was also glad it did. I kissed her.

‘Are you coming back here after your meeting?’ I asked.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘The orchestra finishes the run in New York tonight and then moves on to Chicago for the second part of the US tour. I am desperate to regain my seat for that. If all goes well today, I will be flying out to Chicago on Sunday.’

It was now Friday. Sunday seemed much too soon for her to disappear from me across the wide Atlantic.

‘But you haven’t even seen my restaurant,’ I said. ‘How about tomorrow? For dinner?’

‘Don’t be so eager, Mr Moreton. I have a life, you know. And I have things to do if I’m going to be away next week.’ She sat up and finished dressing.

‘When will you be back from the States?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know that I’ll be going yet. The orchestra is due to return next weekend to spend time preparing for our Festival Hall season. It’s during that time I’m playing my solo at the Cadogan Hall. Are you still coming?’

‘If you’ll still have dinner with me afterwards,’ I said.

‘Deal.’ We sealed it with a kiss.

We went downstairs and Caroline made us some breakfast.

‘Watch that toaster,’ I said to her. ‘It’s broken and doesn’t pop up like it should and I’m forever forgetting and setting off the smoke alarm.’

She watched it carefully and without incident and we sat at the kitchen table and munched our way through two slices of toast and marmalade each.

The taxi hooted from outside. Too soon, I thought, much too soon.

After Caroline left, I mooched around the house all morning wishing she was still there. I tidied the kitchen at least three times and I even vacuumed the floor in the sitting room until the noise began to make my head ache. I had a bowl of cereal, with painkillers, for my lunch.

It was with mixed emotions that I took Caroline’s telephone call around one o’clock. She was so excited at having been welcomed back into the orchestral fold, and she was busy making plans for the trip to Chicago. I was pleased for her, but I would have been kidding myself if I didn’t admit I was rather disappointed that she was going.

‘You didn’t?’ said Bernard Sims incredulously. ‘I’ve heard of clients sleeping with their lawyers, and jury members sleeping with each other, and even the odd judge or two sleeping with a barrister, but I’ve never before heard of the defendant sleeping with the plaintiff, not even if they were married to each other.’ He laughed loudly. I wished I hadn’t told him.

He had called during the early afternoon to say that he had received another letter from Miss Aston’s lawyers