complicated,’ Sidney replied as their food arrived.
Amanda raised a glass of wine to her lips and made steady eye contact. ‘Are you getting into trouble again?’
‘I can’t seem to help it.’
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Yes,’ said Sidney, poking at a rather unsatisfactory poached egg soufflé. ‘You can take my mind off it. Tell me about London. What have you been up to?’
‘Nothing too exciting. I’ve told you about all the parties. Your sister is still seeing Johnny Johnson . . .’
‘And what about you?’
‘There’s one chap who’s being particularly attentive, but it’s too early to tell if he’s decent or not. I’m far more careful after the Guy debacle.’
It was only a year since Amanda’s future fiancé had disgraced himself with a hot-tempered display at a London dinner party and it had taken her months to recover from the embarrassment. ‘I think I’ve given up on men for the time being. There’s far too much work to do at the gallery. In any case,’ she continued, ‘it’s not my admirers we need to be discussing; it’s yours. I am talking about the famous widow, lest we are in any doubt.’
Sidney put his starter to one side. ‘I was afraid we’d come on to that.’
‘So you admit that Hildegard is an admirer?’ Amanda smiled. ‘I think I’ll have a little more wine.’
‘We are very good friends. That is all.’
Amanda remained silent, forcing Sidney to continue.
‘I had a marvellous time.’
‘Is that it?’
Sidney remembered strolling through the Tiergarten to the Badewanne jazz club where they had listened to the Johannes Rediske Quintet play with cool control. It was a relief that Hildegard ‘got’ jazz and understood why he liked its spontaneity and freedom. Afterwards, they had walked back on the Kurfürstendamm, past the bombed-out Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtnis-Kirche. It began to rain, and Hildegard had their only umbrella. When she put her arm through his, so that they could share it, and she squeezed up against him, it had felt the most natural thing in the world.
‘Well?’ Amanda asked. ‘Are you going to tell me anything?’
‘There’s nothing much to tell.’
‘I don’t believe that for a moment. It’s simply that you don’t want to talk about it. I seem to remember that she is musical.’
‘She teaches the piano. She plays Bach every day.’
‘She must be very serious.’
‘Not all the time. She is also a great fan of Jimmy Cagney.’
‘You have been to the cinema together?’
‘She has taken me. We went to see 13 Rue Madeleine .’
‘Intriguing.’
‘It was rather fun.’
‘And is she beautiful?’
Sidney was not going to be drawn into any comparisons. ‘I think so.’
‘Not classically then, I imagine.’ Amanda looked at Sidney but it was clear that he was not going to say anything more and she had sufficient tact not to press the matter. ‘Will I ever meet her?’ she asked.
‘In due course.’
‘You mean that she is coming back to Cambridge?’
‘I have invited her.’
‘When?’
‘Later this year, I hope.’
‘That seems rather vague.’
‘I don’t want to rush things.’
‘Are you in love with her?’
‘That’s a very direct question.’
‘Are you prepared to answer it? Or shall I take your silence as assent?’ The waitress cleared away their plates. ‘You can think about your answer over your coq au vin. I’m sorry you found the starter so disappointing. You should have had the onion soup.’
‘Really, Amanda, it’s very hard to know what I think; and yet, at the same time, I quite like not knowing. It’s a pleasant confusion.’
‘That means you are, I would have thought.’
‘In love? I don’t know, Amanda. But I think I feel most like myself when I am with her.’
‘I thought you got that with me.’
‘You are, if I may say so, more of a challenge.’
‘That’s what most of my admirers say. Do you think it puts them off?’
‘I do think that many men find