St Matthew's Passion - By Sam Archer Page 0,61

ever more personal. Melissa told him of love affairs of her own, good and bad, in her past. Fin described a disastrous relationship he’d had as a student which had them both laughing at the foolishness of young people in the grip of infatuation.

Fin spoke about the fallow years in his romantic life, the ones during which he was focusing with white-hot intensity on his career as a surgeon. He seemed to Melissa to hesitate, then, and to draw back into himself. She felt a throb of sympathy. If he was touching on areas he felt uncomfortable talking about, she understood, and would grant him the right to avoid causing himself pain. But at the same time she hoped he’d feel safe enough with her to share them.

The main course arrived, then, an enormous sea bass for her with colossal piles of vegetables doused in sauce. For a top-end restaurant, it clearly didn’t favour the tiny portions its competitors served. Melissa wondered if she’d be able to breath in her dress afterwards. The arrival of the food produced a natural break in the conversation, and by the time they’d starting eating again Fin seemed distracted, given to comments about the view and the decor of the restaurant and similarly unrelated subjects.

Melissa felt especially bold, reckless even, and before she knew what she was doing she put down her knife and clasped his hand across the table once more and said, ‘Fin, would you tell me about Catherine? Please?’

The mention of her name stopped Fin dead, his fork halfway to his mouth. He put it down and stared at Melissa, something flaming in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. For a moment she was dismayed.

Oh no. I’ve blown it.

The look in his eyes was one of intense pain.

Fin said nothing for several beats. Then he reached over and took her hand in both of his.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s time I did.’

And it came spilling out, the words tumbling as though they’d been dammed up for too long and had suddenly found release. He told her about how he’d met Catherine, fallen in love for the first time and married her. How she’d stoically borne his late hours and sometimes distant manner, supporting him every way she could in his ambition.

How she’d gone out one day and never come back.

How he’d failed to save her. Not just because he hadn’t taken charge of her care after she’d been hit by the car, but because his habitual neglect of her had made him unaware of the fact that she was missing at all.

How his whole life, from the point of Catherine’s death onwards, had been skewed towards achievement and fulfilment in one area alone: his work. While his emotional life withered and died, and he denied himself the soul-nourishing food of love.

When he’d finished he looked utterly drained, exhausted and yet profoundly relieved, as if he’d undergone some agonising yet critical surgical procedure and understood that he’d come out the other side, alive. Melissa was leaning as far towards him as she could, wanting the table to be gone, wanting the whole restaurant to disappear and for it to be just them, together, her and this wonderful, noble man. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a waiter approaching, no doubt concerned that they’d stopped eating because there was something wrong with the food. Melissa glanced across and gave the waiter a quick smile and a shake of the head. He withdrew.

Fin pulled Melissa’s hand to his lips, pressed them against her fingers.

Softly, she said: ‘You really loved her, didn’t you?’

‘More than anyone I’d ever met,’ he whispered. ‘But she’s gone. And now I’ve met you. And I love you more than anyone I could ever hope to meet in my life, Melissa.’

She saw the glimmer of a tear on her lower lid and felt it spill over and slide down her cheek before she had a chance to wipe it away.

Despite the exquisite food, despite the glamour of the setting, Melissa barely tasted a bite, hardly noticed the view or the soft music from the Bach string quartet in the corner. Her attention was held entirely by Fin; she was drawn into his aura like a ship’s captain by a siren’s call.

The limousine ride to Fin’s flat passed with Melissa in his arms in the back seat, her face buried in his neck, his strength engulfing her. Somehow she found herself upstairs and in his apartment, a beautifully appointed