She shook her head, nodded, shook again.
“I’m not sure.”
“Would you like to get out of here?”
“I think… Look, I’ll get a cab. You stay. You’ve come here to see your friend.”
She drew away, but he halted her with a hand on her forearm.
“No, Lydia. I’m seeing Julius for brunch tomorrow. It’s okay. Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet and get a drink. I’ll go and say our goodbyes.”
She watched while von Ritter exchanged a few words with a rather pale Hackmeyer. The visiting conductor nodded over at her and gave her a little wave of parting, releasing von Ritter from his social obligation.
Safe on a high stool in a low-lit cocktail bar, Lydia breathed in the fragrant fumes of her martini and tried to restore herself.
“He’ll be okay,” said von Ritter, giving her a look that seemed to penetrate to the very heart of her concerns. “He’ll have to be.”
“He thinks we’re seeing each other now.”
“Well, I can see you. And you can see me.”
“You know what I mean. He thinks we’re…”
She didn’t want to say any of the words. Together. Lovers. Partners. They all seemed too suggestive, somehow—too presumptuous. As if she bracketed herself mentally with von Ritter.
“Does it matter what he thinks?” asked von Ritter softly.
“It does if it isn’t true.”
Von Ritter smiled wistfully into his drink.
“Ah.”
“What on earth was that between Milan and Hackmeyer anyway? I’ve never seen sheer, naked hatred like it.”
“Oh, there is history between those two. A terrible, chequered history.”
“You know about it?”
Lydia stirred her cocktail restlessly, not sure if she wanted to hear or not. Did everything always have to be about Milan?
“I know about it from Julius’ side. It’s not really my tale to tell. Broken hearts, rivalries, bitter jealousy… You can guess the kind of thing.”
“Milan all over.”
Von Ritter shook his head and drained his glass.
“You know what he’s like, yet you all still adore him. Why is that?”
“If I had a hundred pounds for every time I’ve asked myself that question…”
“I know. You’d be a millionaire.”
“Are you getting another drink?”
“You know, I think there’s a danger of drink making us maudlin tonight, Lydia. Let’s not. Let’s go down to the river and walk off our troubles.”
They walked down through the silent canyons of the financial centre of London, all closed up for the night, towards the Thames. Lydia found that she had her hand in von Ritter’s arm, and she felt like a character from a glamorous old movie with her strong, silent beau.