The Greek Doctor's New-Year Baby

‘Maddie said you were a great cook,’ Katrina said when she’d tasted a bit of everything. ‘I see what she means. These pastries are fabulous.’

He inclined his head. ‘Efkharisto.’

She was even more enthusiastic about the main course, a rich Greek stew which Theo served with fluffy rice and steamed vegetables.

‘It’s afelia—well, our family’s version of the recipe,’ he said with a smile. ‘My sister Melina is a chef. I borrowed this one from her.’

‘Obviously it includes pork, red wine…and ground coriander?’ Katrina hazarded.

‘Yes.’ He was impressed that she’d picked out the ingredients so easily. ‘And a cinnamon stick in the marinade.’

‘It’s gorgeous. Trade you the recipe for this for my recipe for lasagne?’

‘She makes the best lasagne in the world—better even than my mum,’ Madison added.

‘Sounds good to me. It’s a deal, Katrina.’ He glanced at Madison, then back at Katrina. ‘Your cousin told me that you were the cook and she’d rather do the ironing.’

Katrina smiled. ‘Which suits me fine, because I loathe ironing.’

‘So you always wanted to be a doctor?’ he asked.

‘I suppose I was following in Maddie’s footsteps,’ Katrina admitted. ‘Though if I hadn’t been a doctor, I would probably have been a chef.’

‘Half the time she believes that fixing people involves feeding them,’ Madison added.

‘Half the time, it does,’ Katrina said. ‘You think how many stress-related illnesses there are. If people took a little more time, ate together and communicated properly…they’d be under a lot less strain and their health would be better.’

‘That,’ Theo said, ‘is a very fair point. Though some people find it hard to communicate.’ And some things were incredibly difficult to talk about. Like the things he knew he should tell Madison, but he didn’t know where to start.

‘Communication problems is where food really comes into its own,’ Katrina said.

‘Preferably pudding,’ Madison added with a grin.

‘Eat your main course, kardoula mou, and you can have pudding,’ Theo said.

‘And this was the man who once promised to cook me an entire dinner of puddings,’ Madison grumbled teasingly.

Though when Theo cleared the plates away and brought through a platter of fresh fruit, her face fell.

‘This is your idea of a non-Greek, international pudding?’

‘Isn’t it yours?’

‘Hmm.’

He smiled. ‘Matia mou, were you hoping I’d made something French?’

‘No-o.’

It was a very obvious fib, and he ruffled her hair. ‘One moment.’ He disappeared to the kitchen, returned with a shallow dish containing the crème brûlée and a blowtorch, and proceeded to caramelise the sugar there and then at the table.

‘That’s just showing off,’ Maddie said, folding her arms. ‘Big time.’

He spread his hands. ‘Insult the cook, kardia mou, and you don’t get pudding.’

‘I take it back,’ she said quickly, then tipped her head to one side and looked at him. ‘You actually made this for me?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Did you think I’d bought it from a deli and just added a bit of sugar and the blowtorch to impress you?’

‘Take pity on the girl. She hates cooking,’ Katrina reminded him.

Theo brushed the backs of his fingers against Madison’s cheek. ‘I rang Melina last night and got a few tips on how to make crème brûlée. And, yes, hara mou, I made it especially for you.’

Pudding was followed by coffee—lattes for Madison and Katrina and strong black coffee for Theo—and chocolates. They were so busy talking and laughing that the time simply vanished—and with a start Madison realised it was gone eleven p.m. ‘We’d better be going—we’re both on early shift tomorrow,’ she said.

‘I’d drive you myself had I not had that second glass of wine. So I’ll call you a taxi,’ Theo said immediately.

‘Theo, we’re one stop away on the tube,’ Madison protested. ‘And there are two of us. We live three doors away from each other.’

‘I don’t care. At this time of night, you’re taking a taxi,’ he insisted. ‘And I’m paying. No arguments.’

Theo was implacable so, in the end Madison submitted with good grace. When the taxi arrived, he kissed Katrina’s cheek and then Madison’s, and she suppressed a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her goodbye properly. Or maybe, she thought, he hadn’t wanted to appear too pushy in front of Katrina.