‘Thank you,’ Jane said curtly.
‘Nice to meet you, Michael. And if you ever want a free ticket for Madame Tussauds, just ask for me.’
Michael was standing by the stove with the pasta in a large bowl and a serving bowl of the sauce with a ladle.
‘Just got to get the garlic bread out and we’re ready to go,’ he said.
‘Please sit down and let me serve it. I’m sorry, that was a friend from my old station and she’s very hard to get off the phone. Her mother has dementia and goes walkabout… Then my dad called. My parents are going away on a cruise on Sunday… Amazing really, as they hardly ever take holidays.’
Jane retrieved the rather charred garlic bread from the oven, then served the spaghetti and bolognese sauce in soup bowls. She took out some grated Parmesan cheese from the fridge as Michael poured himself another glass of wine and topped Jane’s glass up.
‘This is so good,’ he said, winding the spaghetti around his fork, against a spoon.
Jane was delighted when he had a second bowlful, and afterwards she laid out a cheese platter with biscuits. Michael rinsed their dirty dishes in the sink and noticed Pearl’s carrot peelings lying on a brown paper bag to one side, which he placed in the bin as well.
‘You’re well-trained,’ Jane said, smiling. She started to make some coffee.
‘Yep, there’s nothing worse than having to wash up a stack of dirty dishes.’
They finished the bottle of wine with the cheese and biscuits, then both had some coffee. Irritated by the sound of Pearl’s TV, Jane knocked on her door.
‘Pearl, can you turn the volume down please? It’s too loud.’
Michael joined her in the hall, carrying their cups of coffee. He obviously presumed there was a lounge area somewhere and Jane, feeling rather embarrassed, explained that there was no place to sit comfortably, other than her bedroom.
‘You’re welcome to sit there if you don’t mind. I don’t have a TV, as I can hear Pearl’s every night!’
Jane opened her bedroom door. She had placed scatter cushions over her bedspread so that it didn’t appear like an invitation to get too cosy. Michael sat down on her bed and put his coffee on her bedside table. Jane sat down beside him.
‘My parents said I should have got a bigger place as there’s no sitting room… I’m beginning to think they’re right, but I really need the rent from Pearl.’
‘I live in a bedsit, but it’s actually very spacious,’ he said. ‘It’s in one of those huge Victorian houses that have been split into flats. I’ve got a small cupboard as a kitchen, and I share the bathroom with two other guys on my floor. I’m saving up to buy my own place, but for now it suits me. And, like you, I don’t do much entertaining.’
‘You noticed!’ she said, feeling totally at ease beside him. Michael put his arm around her and drew her closer.
‘So, tell me all about you… because on our next date I’d like to take you out to dinner and a movie.’
‘I’d like that. I haven’t been to the cinema for ages. I’d hate to go by myself, and as I am often on night duty there’s not that much opportunity. I go to my parents as much as possible at the weekend, and—’
Michael tipped her chin up and leaned close. It wasn’t a lingering kiss, just a light touch of his lips against hers. Jane was about to move closer towards him when the phone rang again.
‘I’m not going to answer it,’ she said, enjoying the feel of being curled up next to him with his arm around her shoulders.
The phone continued ringing and Jane was about to get up when she heard Pearl come out of her room.
‘I’ll get it!’ she called.
The next moment she knocked on Jane’s door. ‘It’s for Michael.’
He jumped to his feet. ‘I’m so sorry… I had to leave a number where I could be contacted if there was an emergency. We’re short-staffed, and I’m on call.’
Michael went out into the hallway and spoke briefly to the caller before he returned, looking worried.
‘It’s the hospital. Daphne Millbank’s fading fast. Her organs are shutting down.’
Pearl went into the kitchen to put her plate into the sink. She considered washing it up, but then couldn’t be bothered.
In her haste to leave with Michael, Jane had left her bedroom door open. Pearl looked inside and noticed the coffee cups left on the floor. She pushed the door open wider and went into the room. She had a nose around, pretending to herself that she was looking for the hairdryer. She peered into the large box that had contained Jane’s dress and neatly reclosed the lid. Then she opened some drawers and checked inside them before looking in the wardrobe. The dress was hanging in the middle with space either side of it, made by pushing the other clothes along the rail. Pearl took the dress out and admired it, reading the Chanel label before she read the tag attached to the dress. It had the price, date of hire and date of return. Pearl replaced the dress and flicked through Jane’s other clothes before she closed the wardrobe door, stepping back over the coffee cups on the floor as she left the room.
Jane sat in the brightly lit reception area, impatient to know how Daphne was doing. When they arrived at St Thomas’ Michael had rushed off to find the night duty doctor. The large reception area was eerily silent, with just one administrator manning the desk. There was the continual sound of ambulances going back and forth to the A & E department, where there would be a lot more action than here in the private section.
It was just after ten when Michael walked through the double doors. He was now wearing his uniform and Jane could tell by his expression that it was bad news. He came and sat beside her and took her hand.
‘She didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Jane. She was such a fighter, but she started having difficulty breathing and then complications set in… it was hopeless.’
Jane blinked back tears and asked if she would be allowed to see Daphne. Michael hesitated, then agreed to take her up to the ward. He walked ahead of her down the private corridor where the armed guard was still standing at the door. He looked bewildered, confused about what he should do.
‘Only the nurses and doctors have been allowed entry… no one else has been here,’ he said, shuffling his feet.
Ignoring him, Michael opened the door to Daphne’s room and ushered Jane inside. The cage that had been protecting her amputation was no longer over the bed. Daphne lay with just a sheet covering her tiny body, her arms tucked underneath it. Without all the paraphernalia that had surrounded her she seemed even more vulnerable and fragile. Jane moved closer to the bed. She could see that Daphne’s hair had been combed away from her face, and her mouth and closed eyes were sunken.
‘She would have liked to have her teeth in…’ Jane said quietly.
Michael opened the box, and, moving Jane aside, he put in Daphne’s precious white false teeth.
‘That’s better,’ Jane said. After a moment, she turned to Michael. ‘It was natural causes? I mean, there was nothing suspicious, was there?’
He shook his head. Jane knew that Michael could not really have any notion of the significance of Daphne Millbank’s death. And she didn’t want him to know. She forced herself to sound calm as she asked if she could use a phone.
‘There’s one in the nurse’s bay,’ Michael said.
He waited as she called Scotland Yard and asked the duty sergeant to inform DCI Crowley that Daphne Millbank was dead.
‘All done?’ he asked softly as she replaced the receiver.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘all done.’
‘Would you like me to call you a cab?’
‘No, thank you, I think I need to walk for a while.’
He gently took her arm to escort her out of the hospital. ‘I’d come with you but I have to stay.’