Free Maestro by Samantha van Dalen Page B

wine would have been gauche. 
    Gillane hardly spoke throughout the meal except to excuse himself as he disappeared to collect the next surprise to come out of the kitchen. 
    He moved the evening along with a certain precision, which kept him firmly in charge. When he did speak, his conversation was polite, even cordial although tinged with a pronounced note of indifference. 
    The second course was a velvety leek and potato soup with which they drank another glass of the white wine.  
    Following the soup, Gillane carved a roast chicken at the table which he served with french beans sautéed in garlic and butter. 
    This being the most substantial course, Gillane refilled Sara's glass more than once. As the chicken left the table, so too did an empty bottle of Bordeaux. 
    Gillane refused all of Sara's offers to assist in the to-ing and fro-ing back and forth to the kitchen. Secretly, she was enjoying being waited on by a man but she had to admit as well that she was charmed by his efforts at having prepared such a lavish meal. 
    Gillane returned yet again, this time thankfully, with coffee. 
    "Shall we have this in the other room?" he asked, nodding towards the door. 
    Sara was grateful for a change of scenery; the sitting room would be more suitable for relaxed conversation over coffee. 
    She settled into a comfortable looking chair whilst Gillane poured the coffee. Very dark espresso in  demi tasses.   
    "Would you like a liqueur to go with that?" he inquired, always the perfect host. 
    "Thank you, just coffee will be fine." 
    Gillane filled a glass with Grand Marnier, placing it alongside his cup of coffee. 
    "That was truly a lovely meal. It was very kind of you to invite me over for dinner." 
    Gillane had already finished drinking his coffee and was lighting a cigarette. 
    "Is there anything else I can get you, Sara?" 
    Sara shook her head vigorously. 
    "I would like to hear more about you. In my head, I can't quite reconcile...," she regretted giving herself away so easily and continued, "you hardly say anything about yourself or your past..." 
    "Is that so unusual?" Gillane shot back, his eyes blazing at her. "I don't know very much about you."  
    Sara interpreted the tone of his voice and his reply to mean that she had been rude to ask for details of his personal life. 
    "You're quite right," she replied curtly, "most people subsist on a diet of knowing very little about each other. Perhaps I will have a glass of that liqueur after all." 
    Her triumph was short lived. The cloyingly sweet syrup Gillane handed her went straight to her head. 
    Her head spinning, Sara rose uneasily from her chair. 
    "Forgive me," she mumbled, "my curiosity has been getting the better of me. You're quite right. I should leave now..." 
    "Please don't leave on my account, Sara. It’s raining heavily. You're quite welcome to stay until it subsides." 
    Sara ignored him. She walked around the room distractedly, frantic to find her handbag and get out.    She found it and her legs gave way under her. She fell backwards onto a chair, her head throbbing. She was afraid she would be sick. 
    She began to cry. 
    "What's the point! What's the point! It’s hopeless..." 
    Gillane came and sat next to her.  
    "What's hopeless Sara? What's so hopeless?" he whispered, his hand caressing her back. 
    Sara could not reply. She didn't know where to begin. She wanted to lie down. To go to sleep forever. 
    "Do you want some more coffee? I'll go and get some." 
    Sara lay back in the chair, weeping. She was cold. Tired.  
    Gillane returned with the coffee and handed her a cup. She took a sip and gave the cup back to him, a lump in her throat prevented her from drinking any more.  
    Gillane sat with her, his arm around her shoulder.  Sara leaned her head against him and he drew his arm around her tighter. 
    The tears were rolling down her face. She wiped them away furiously but her hands could not stem the veritable