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streamed out of offices and shops, heads down, belting along the streets with
pale, intent expressions. She wondered what it felt like to work in this huge
city among so many other people. Did it make one feel far less of an
individual? Or did they get used to the vastness and impersonality and
somehow make their own place in this difficult world?
The taxi turned over a bridge and she was able to glimpse the river, glinting
silver under the evening sky, its banks lit with soft Victorian lamps which
made the light softer than the usual modern ones.
The Festival Hall was lit too, its white modernity softened by the evening.
Past it she saw the stark climbing shapes of office blocks which fingered the
sky bluntly and were already splotched by squares of yellow light where
people were working late into the night.
The taxi stopped to drop her. She hunted through her purse to pay him and
smiled as she said goodbye.
'Now you be careful, miss,' he said, noting her soft voice. 'London's full of
men like that chap. Always on the make. You have to have your wits about
you these days.'
She thanked him and turned to walk into the building. In the crowded foyer
she studied a poster advertising the concert, noting that the main attraction
was a concerto played by her father's favourite pianist.
How Dad would envy her if he knew she was here! One of his dreams was to
be in London and go to a concert every night of the week. Records were a
poor substitute for the real thing.
'There you are!' said a furious voice at her elbow.
Lisa turned, her heart leaping, and looked at Matt's dark face incredulously.
'How did you get here?'
'Followed your taxi,' he grunted. 'Damned impudence of that fellow!'
She chuckled, eyeing him teasingly. 'He thought you were trying to pick me
up. He warned me about men like you ... men on the make, he called you.
Shrewd of him, wasn't it? But then I suppose being a man he recognised
what sort of a man you were at a glance.'
His hand gave a dart and seized her wrist, tightening until she gasped with
pain and indignation.
'Don't talk to me like that,' he snapped.
She tugged at her wrist. 'You're hurting me!'
'Stand still, then,' he ordered.
She raised angry golden-brown eyes to his face. 'What are you doing, Matt,
following me around London?'
'I've got to talk to you,' he said, his eyes intent on her face, making her pulses
race with the beauty of their blue brilliance.
Someone gave a little cry nearby. 'Look, Carol, there's Matt Wolfe ... it is
Matt Wolfe, isn't it? Imagine seeing him here?'
Matt groaned under his breath.
A large, pink-faced woman pushed a programme under his nose. 'Could you
sign this for me, Mr Wolfe? I'm a great admirer of yours. I want this for my
daughter. She just loves your series.'
Matt was forced to release Lisa's hand and turn reluctantly, a polite smile on
his mouth. While he was signing his name and listening to the woman's
outpourings Lisa darted away into the crowd, moving towards the door by
which she would enter the hall.
Matt could not have a ticket and was unlikely to get one at this late stage.
Once she was safely in the hall he would not be able to follow her.
Unfortunately there were a large number of people filtering past the ticket
collector, and she had to queue up to get inside. She hoped desperately that
Matt would be detained long enough to let her escape.
When his hand caught at her shoulder she winced, looking round at him with
a pale face.
'I've got to talk to you,' he hissed under his breath.
Aware of the fascinated curiosity of the rest of the queue Lisa felt impelled
to let him pull her out of her place and guide her to a quiet corner behind a
marble pillar.
He pushed her into the alcove, standing in front of her, his eyes restless on
her face.
'You'll make me late for my concert,' she said uneasily, her heart thudding.
'Are you going alone?' he demanded.
She flickered a glance up at his face. 'Why?'
His mouth tightened. 'Skip the concert,' he said in a flat voice. 'Have dinner
with me.'
She shook her head. 'No, thank you.'
'Lisa,' his voice burst out, ragged with irritation, 'stop behaving like this.'
'Like what?' she asked innocently. 'I just want to go in and hear that Mozart.
Is that so strange? I've been looking forward to it. Wasn't it sweet of Adam to
get the tickets?'
'Tickets?' he repeated heavily. 'Do you mean you're going with him? Where
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