To Cut a Long Story Short

‘Tax at 20 per cent.’

‘That sounds like a good reason for Angus being on Jersey - but not you. In any case, I’d still rather be in England and pay 40 per cent.’

‘Now that he’s retired and living on a fixed income, it suits us. If we’d stayed in Edinburgh, we couldn’t have maintained the same standard of living.’

‘So, Brighton’s as good as it gets,’ said Max, with a grin.

The maitre d’ reappeared carrying two plates of gnocchi, which he placed in front of them, while another waiter deposited a large side salad in the centre of the table.

‘I’m not complaining,’ said Ruth, as she sipped her champagne. ‘Angus has always been very considerate. I want for nothing.’

‘Nothing?’ Max repeated, as a hand disappeared under the table and rested on her knee.

Ruth knew that she should have removed it immediately, but she didn’t.

When Max eventually took his hand away and began to concentrate on the gnocchi, Ruth tried to act as if nothing had happened.

‘Anything worth seeing in the West End?’ she asked casually. ‘I’m told An Inspector Calls is good.’

‘It certainly is,’ replied Max. ‘I went to the opening night.’

‘Oh, when was that?’ asked Ruth innocently.

‘About five years ago,’ Max replied.

Ruth laughed. ‘So, now that you know just how out of date I am, you can tell me what I should be seeing.’

‘There’s a new Tom Stoppard opening next month.’ He paused. ‘If you were able to escape for a couple of days, we could go and see it together.’

‘It’s not that easy, Max. Angus expects me to stay with him on Jersey. We don’t come to the mainland all that often.’

Max stared down at her empty plate. ‘It looks as if the gnocchi lived up to my claims.’

Ruth nodded her agreement.

‘You should try the creme brulee, also made by the patron’s wife.’

‘Certainly not. This trip already means I’m going to be out of the gym for at least three days, so I’ll settle for a coffee,’ said Ruth, as another glass of champagne was placed by her side. She frowned.

‘Just pretend it’s your birthday,’ Max said, as the hand disappeared back under the table - this time resting a few inches higher up her thigh.

Looking back, that was the moment when she should have got up and walked out.

‘So, how long have you been an estate agent?’ she asked instead, still trying to pretend nothing was happening.

‘Since I left school. I started at the bottom of the firm, making the tea, and last year I became a partner.’

‘Congratulations. Where is your office?’

‘Right in the centre of Mayfair. Why don’t you drop in some time? Perhaps when you’re next in London.’

‘I don’t get to London all that often,’ Ruth said.

When Max spotted a waiter heading towards their table, he removed the hand from her leg. Once the waiter had placed two cappuccinos in front of them, Max smiled up at him and said, ‘And perhaps I could have the bill.’

‘Are you in a hurry?’ Ruth asked.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I’ve just remembered that I have a bottle of vintage brandy hidden away on board Sea Urchin, and this might be the ideal occasion to open it.’ He leaned across the table and took her hand. ‘You know, I’ve been saving this particular bottle for something or someone special.’