Anne Mather (7 page)

'I see.'

'The women of my acquaintance seem to see the millionaire before the man,' he remarked dryly.

'I don't think that's entirely true,' she answered quietly. 'You underestimate your physical appeal, apart from your personality. It's not your money that I care about.'

He shrugged and looked slightly sceptical. 'Not at all?' he asked softly. 'I find that hard to believe.'

Caroline sighed. 'When I met you in the lift that day I had no idea who you were. You attracted me just as much then as you do now.'

Adam bit his lip. 'I see,' he remarked slowly. 'Doesn't money appeal to you at all?'

'Don't be ridiculous, of course it does,' she replied swiftly. 'I'd be a fool to say otherwise. No one wants to be poor. All I'm trying to say is that money alone does not interest me one iota. When I read about girls, teenage girls, marrying men of seventy or more, it appals me. If you imagine I think of you like that you must be mad.' She shivered. 'I could no more let a man like that touch me than. . .' Her voice trailed away.

Adam looked slightly less disbelieving, but not entirely convinced. 'I do believe you think you're serious,' he murmured, in a half-amused tone.

'I am serious,' she said angrily. 'But you're probably too biased to understand it.'

'Maybe I am,' admitted Adam slowly, staring at her. Then with a shrug he said: 'I meant to tell you earlier, I'm afraid I have to go away again on Monday. Something just cropped up.'

Caroline's legs felt suddenly weak. She didn't want him to go away; perhaps forget all about her!

'How long are you going to be away?' she asked, in a forcedly calm voice.

'Well, I'm not precisely sure, but I guess about five days. I'm flying to New York on Monday morning and I hope to be able to go on to Boston on Wednesday. My mother lives in Boston.'

'Your mother!' Caroline was aghast. She had naturally assumed somehow that his mother was dead. He had never mentioned her before, although actually, apart from today, he had never talked about himself.

'Sure. Didn't you think I had one?' he asked with a smile.

'Well, yes. I just assumed she was dead, somehow.'

'My father died when I was quite a boy,' he remarked, 'but my mother came originally from Ireland and as all her relatives are now living in the States she preferred to be there rather than here, where she never sees me anyway.'

'I see.' Caroline sighed. She had learned such a lot about him today, and there was so much more she wanted to know!

'Will you miss me, then?' he asked teasingly.

'Of course,' she replied, keeping her voice light. 'Who'll help me out when I'm late at the office?'

Adam smiled. 'Would you like me to leave instructions that you can keep what hours you like?'

Caroline flushed. 'Oh, no, I was only joking,' she exclaimed. 'How I envy you! I'd love to be able to say, I'm flying to the States, just like that.'

Adams eyes narrowed. 'Come with me,' he said coolly.

Caroline's expression mirrored her astonishment. Then with a frown she said: 'Don't make jokes like that, please, Adam.'

'Who's joking?' he retorted. 'I'll make the arrangements if you want to come with me.'

'If!' Carolines stomach plunged. How she would adore to do just that. But she knew she couldn't. It wasn't that simple, even if she was prepared to be so daring. After all, there was Aunt Agnes, Amanda. . . It was entirely unrealistic to even consider such a thing.

'No,' she said at last. 'You knew I'd refuse, didn't you?'

'I guess so,' he said with a sigh, and then there was a knock on the door.

Mrs Jones came in at Adam's call.

'I've just taken supper in to John,' she said, with an apologetic glance, 'and when he asked whether you were back, I had to tell him you hadn't gone. He told me to ask you why you don't join them in the lounge.'

'That's all right, Mrs Jones,' said Adam easily. 'But you tell John that we're quite happy where we are and that we'll see them both in the morning. Right?'

'Yes sir,' Mrs Jones nodded. 'And would you both like some supper, sir? I've a Scotch broth bubbling on the stove just waiting for you to try some, with maybe a roll of French bread.'

'Quite cosmopolitan,' grinned Adam. 'All right, Mrs Jones, you've convinced us. Bring it in.'

The broth was delicious and afterwards they had creamy coffee made with freshly whipped cream. When they had finished and Mrs Jones came to take the tray, Adam said:

'Did you make up the rose room as I asked you, Mrs Jones?'

'Yes, sir. Just as you said. Miss Landon is in the blue suite.'

'That's right. Perhaps you would show Miss Sinclair to her room.' He turned to Caroline. 'You go along with Mrs Jones, honey,' he murmured softly. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight, Adam,' said Caroline, and obediently followed Mrs Jones from the room.

Her bedroom, with its adjoining bathroom, was upstairs and Caroline was absolutely bemused by the splendour of it all. A white pile carpet covered the bedroom floor and one's feet sank in it up to the ankles. The bedding and curtains were rose-coloured satin and the bedhead was quilted. The furniture was a rich mahogany while a white telephone stood on the bedside table.

The bathroom was even more fantastic, with a floor of rich mosaic design, scattered about with thick rugs. The walls were all mirrors, reflecting one hundreds of times over, and Caroline felt sure she would feel embarrassed bathing in such surroundings. The bath, sunken deeply into the floor, was circular, with silver taps and an adjoining shower compartment.

With determination, Caroline turned on the taps and walked back into the bedroom to collect a pair of Adam's pyjamas which were lying on the bed in readiness for her use.

After almost filling the bath and adding some bath salts she found in the bathroom also, she had a really satisfying bath and got out feeling refreshed. She dried herself on the woolly white bath towels and put on the silk pyjamas. They felt expensive and the dressing gown which had also been supplied could have been wrapped round her twice.

Then she went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, unable to consider sleep for a while. She wished she had been able to say more to Adam before she had been shepherded off by Mrs Jones, but perhaps he wanted it that way. She took a cigarette from the box beside the telephone and after lighting it lay back against the pillows luxuriously. This bed for instance, she mused, would sleep about six adults, let alone only one, and that ceiling; who had devised such an intricate system of design? All the opulence seemed so different from the flat she shared with Amanda and she couldn't deny that she preferred this room to the small cubbyhole she and Amanda slept in at home.

She switched off the main lights, leaving only the bedside lamp burning casting a golden glow over the room. Her watch told her that it was half-past eleven and she thought lazily that she ought to be getting right into bed. She stubbed out her cigarette and then lay back again. She felt relaxed and sleepy.

Suddenly there was a light tap on the door and it opened to admit Adam. He closed the door and leaned back against it, smiling.

She sat up, startled at his unexpected entrance. He was still fully dressed and he moved away from the door towards the bed.

'Don't be perturbed,' he murmured lazily. 'I've only come to make sure you're all right and to say goodnight.'

Caroline sighed. 'I thought you must have wanted me out of the way,' she replied softly.

Adam shrugged. 'Did it sound like that? No, honey, I just didn't want to give Mrs J. anything to gossip about. After all, you're very young. . .and very beautiful. . .' He bit his lip savagely as he looked down at her.

'I'm glad you think so,' she answered quietly. She lay back. 'I think this is a wonderful room.'

He did not reply but continued looking at her until she said:

'I suppose these are your pyjamas?' in a husky voice.

'So they are,' he murmured, his eyes caressing her slender body. With a groan he sank down beside her and pulled her into his arms, his mouth seeking hers. There was a tenderness in his kiss which overwhelmed her and then as she responded the kiss hardened and became passionately absorbing.

'Adam,' she breathed achingly, and with a muffled curse Adam wrenched himself away and rose to his feet.

'God, Caro,' he muttered, 'you don't know what you do to me.' He turned away abruptly and thrust his hands into his pockets.

'I know what you do to me,' she protested, propping herself up on one elbow, the revers of the pyjama jacket falling apart to reveal the curve of her firm breast.

Adam glanced once round at her and then he said: 'Go to sleep!' in a forced manner and strode to the door. A few seconds later it slammed behind him and Caroline rolled over on to her stomach and burst into tears.

CHAPTER FOUR

The
next morning Caroline was awakened by Mrs Jones who had brought her a tray on which was a percolator of coffee and a jug of fruit juice. She placed the tray across Caroline as she lazily sat up and then drew back the curtains. A watery sun was shining, but the frost sparkling on the windows gave everything a wintry look.

'Breakfast is in the dining-room when you want it,' she said, smiling. 'Just go along as soon as you want to.'

'Thank you, Mrs Jones.' She sighed. 'This is wonderful.'

Mrs Jones simply nodded and withdrew and Caroline poured herself a glass of fruit juice before tasting the delicious-smelling coffee.

Afterwards, when she was dressed, she went down to the dining-room, finding her way quite easily. The house still seemed very quiet and she wondered whether she was first up. It was eight-thirty already, but for a Sunday it was quite early, even for her.

She looked rather pale this morning, shadows beneath her green cat's eyes. In truth she had slept rather badly and dreaded her eventual meeting with Adam.

When she entered the large, light dining-room she found only one occupant; John Steinbeck, who was seated at the table, a plate of kidneys and bacon in front

of him, a newspaper propped against the toast rack.

He looked up at her entrance and looked at her coolly.

'Good morning,' said Caroline, feeling nervous.

"Morning,' he replied abruptly, and rudely returned to his paper.

Ignoring his obviously childish manners, Caroline poured herself more coffee and then seated herself at the opposite side of the table. The dishes being kept hot on burners on the side-board did not appeal to her just now. Her appetite seemed non-existent.

John, apparently deciding he was being very rude and remembering that he was host at the moment, put away the newspaper and offered her some toast.

'No, thank you,' said Caroline, shaking her head.

John finished his kidneys and bacon and buttered himself a slice of toast before spreading it liberally with marmalade. It was obvious now that he also felt rather uncomfortable and Caroline decided to break the silence.

'Is your father still in bed?' she asked politely.

John's eyebrows ascended and he looked cynically surprised.

'Don't you know?' he asked pointedly.

Caroline clenched her teeth for a moment, flushing scarlet.

'If I did I shouldn't be asking,' she replied coldly. 'Now perhaps you'll answer my question.'

Now John looked embarrassed. 'He's going round the estate with Jones,' he said, studying his toast. 'They've been gone over an hour. I ought to have realised that he would hardly be up at seven if. ..' He did not finish his remark, but Caroline was well aware of his meaning.

'You're very young,' she remarked easily, before taking a sip of her coffee.

John looked angry. 'I shouldn't be surprised if I'm older than you,' he retorted with a snort. 'Just what game are you and my father playing? His women aren't usually straight out of the cradle.'

Caroline refused to rise to the bait. Instead she said:

'The fog seems to have lifted this morning.'

John shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He was baffled. He finished his meal and pushed aside his plate.

'Would you like some more coffee?' Caroline asked, standing up and lifting her own cup.

He was about to refuse and then with ill grace he said:

'Thank you.'

Caroline poured the coffee and after handing him his, re-seated herself. John took out his cigarette case and offered it to her. With a slight smile she accepted the cigarette, steadied his hand as he lit it and then relaxed back in her chair. Even John seemed more at ease and Caroline reflected that in other circumstances she could have liked him. He was young and attractive and quite intelligent and she was sure he could have liked her. Although he was antagonistic towards her, his eyes told her that he found her attractive, too, and she really felt quite amused at his transparent jealousy.

'How long have you been at university?' she asked, drawing on her cigarette.

'A year,' replied John, sounding much more natural. 'I'm reading philosophy.'

'You amaze me,' remarked Caroline with some sarcasm, and John smiled suddenly, relaxing completely. 'Do you like being there?'

'It's okay, I guess,' replied John, with a sigh. 'I quite enjoy the atmosphere, the friends I work with, and of course, I'm interested in my subject.'

'It sounds intriguing,' remarked Caroline. 'I'm afraid philosophy is one subject I know nothing about.'

'Few people do,' replied John, smiling. Then as remembrance of who she was returned to him, he said quietly: 'How long have you known my father?'

'A week,' answered Caroline, watching his reaction.

'Is that all?' he exclaimed, then he shrugged. 'You seem to have become very well acquainted in a very short time.'

Caroline flushed. 'It happens like that sometimes,' she replied calmly.

'So I believe,' said John, with a sneer in his voice. 'And I suppose money doesn't bother you either?'

'No, it does not!' exclaimed Caroline. 'Honestly, it seems to me that far too much emphasis is placed on money in this family. You can please your petty little self whether you believe me or not, but your father's money is not what attracted me to him. He's a very attractive man, or hadn't you noticed? Your girl-friend has!'

John was furious now and Caroline felt pleased. He thought he was so clever. Well, she had shaken his complacency!

She rose to her feet and strolled over to the wide windows which overlooked the drive. It gave John time to control his temper. He had not enjoyed being made a fool of by a girl he was coming to like, regardless of her attachment to his father. He was used to being immediately popular with any girls he met and the fact that this girl preferred his father baulked him. She must know that he was just as attractive money- wise, and he could not understand how she could prefer his father who was almost forty. After all, she could only be about eighteen herself!

The entry of Toni Landon brought a welcome end to his speculation and he turned to greet her with a smile. Dressed this morning in a slim-fitting skirt and a red sweater, she looked very charming and John decided to ignore Caroline.

'I'm sorry I'm late, darling,' she exclaimed. 'You ought not to have such comfy beds here. Mine was dreamy.. .but dreamy, darling.'

Caroline raised her eyes heavenward as she listened to Toni's inconsequent chatter. No wonder Adam was soon bored if the women of his acquaintance spoke like that. Decorative ornaments, thought Caroline, sighing. Somewhere for the men to hang the jewellery where it would be seen. Walking models of fabulous dresses but inwardly empty shells without any interest in anything but themselves.

Excusing herself, she left the dining-room, collected her duffel coat from the cloakroom and slipping it on opened the front door and stepped outside. Closing the door behind her, she shivered momentarily as the cold air hit her after the heat of the house.

Everywhere was covered with the fairy-like coating of frost and the air was fresh and invigorating. Much different from London, thought Caroline, used to the smells of petrol and diesel fumes. Thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, she made her way round to the rear of the building where she had seen the swimming pool the night before.

It was easy to find her way and she walked on down the path, through the now stark rose beds, past the pool and the tennis courts into a copse of trees. Her earlier lethargy had partly dispersed when she came out of the trees into a clearing to find a stables, and standing in the forecourt was Adam with two other men. One was obviously the groom and she presumed the second man must be Jones, Mrs Jones' husband.

Adam saw her first and leaving the other men he crossed swiftly to her side. Caroline's cheeks were flushed now from the air, but her eyes were still tired and the dark rings could not be disguised.

Adam did not speak at once, but touched her cheeks lightly, indicating the pallor beneath her eyes.

'Am I to blame for this?' he asked softly, his eyes gentler than she had ever seen them.

'Why should you think that?' she asked, turning away. 'You didn't tell me you kept horses, Adam.'

Adam put a casual arm across her shoulders. 'Don't be frigid with me,' he commanded quietly, and she was forced to look up at him appealingly.

'I'm not,' she breathed helplessly. 'I just don't understand you.'

'You will in time,' he replied calmly. 'Come on, I'll introduce you.'

He introduced her to Frank Leyton, the groom who with his wife and two sons lived over the stables in a converted flat. Mr Jones was a cheerful, older man ;ind she felt quite at home with them both.

The horses were a delight in themselves. Caroline was unable to ride, but she loved animals, and Adam said:

'I'll teach you to ride, next time you come down, hm?'

Caroline sighed contentedly. His final remark had told her all she wanted to know. There was going to be a 'Next time'.

They strolled slowly back to the house together, Adam's arm still across her slim shoulders.

'For the first time in my life, I wish I didn't have to go away tomorrow,' he murmured, his mouth brushing her ear.

'So do I,' she said, sighing and his arm tightened possessively.

They drove up to London after Adam had had some breakfast. He had suggested that she should stay all day, but apart from John's apparent antipathy, Caroline knew that Amanda would be worried so she decided to go back. Adam had been disappointed at her refusals to stay, but he was deliberately thoughtful towards her as they drove back to town.

He drew up outside the block of flats and Caroline bent her head, feeling utterly depressed. The week stretched ahead of her, blank and uninviting.

'Well,' said Adam sliding his arm along the back of her seat, 'our time together is over for the time being.'

Caroline nodded, feeling as though she wanted to cry. She had never felt so miserable or so alone before.

'Oh, Adam,' she whispered, raising her eyes to his, 'you aren't just playing with me, are you?'

Adams eyes darkened. 'Need you ask?' he muttered harshly. 'God, Caro, do you think I want to leave you here? If I had my way, I'd take you with me. But that's not possible, is it?'

'No!' she whispered with a sigh. 'When will you be back?'

'I guess Friday,' he replied, biting his lips. 'I'll ring you at work, hm?' He smiled at her. 'As soon as the flight lands, yes?'

'From the airport!' she exclaimed, smiling herself.

'If you want me to,' he replied softly. 'I'd ring you from New York, but you've no telephone in the flat.'

'Don't worry,' she said. 'Just ring as soon as you get back, darling.'

'Say that again,' he muttered. 'I like to hear you say it.'

Afterwards he lightly touched her forehead with his lips.

'Go on now, honey. Don't say anything else or I really won't let you go,' he said, and she slid out of the car. She felt slightly intoxicated. That kind of conversation was more potent than alcohol. Adam slammed the door and drove away without looking back. Caroline walked slowly into the building. She wished for once she could have a room of her own where she could have gone for a while until the worst of this feeling wore off. As it was, she had Amanda to face. And Amanda would demand a full description of the night's events.

It was almost twelve when she opened the door of the flat and entered to find Amanda preparing dinner. She turned round when Caroline came in, relief spreading over her face.

'Thank heaven!' she exclaimed, looking thankful. I thought you were never coming back.'

'Oh, really, Mandy,' cried Caroline, sighing. 'I only stayed at Slayford because of the fog. It was a vile night.'

'I know, I know. But I couldn't help remembering who you were with and wondering whether he would take advantage of such a heaven-sent opportunity.'

'We were not alone,' said Caroline wearily, tiredness overtaking her. 'His son and his girl-friend arrived last night for the weekend. Not to mention his housekeeper and her husband. Honestly, Amanda, don't fuss over me so much. I'm perfectly all right and still sound in wind and limb. Nothing happened.'

Amanda shrugged her shoulders, looking hurt, and Caroline frowned. She didn't want to be unkind to her friend, but at the moment she was in no mood for gossiping. As for her relationship with Adam; she realised that she was like putty in his hands and that Amanda would have been shocked to the core if she ever realised it. Caroline knew she had never felt like this before, and was not likely to do so again with any other man. Up till now, boys had hardly disturbed the surface of her emotional state,- suddenly Adam had plumbed the depths and she felt shaken at the upheaval he had caused. Would he ever feel the same way towards herself? She doubted it. He had known too many women to get himself seriously involved with a teenager.

If Amanda wondered why Caroline was so miserable for the rest of the day she did not comment on it and refrained from asking any questions. It was obvious that Caroline did not want to talk about things concerning Adam Steinbeck and Amanda had to resign her curiosity and forget all the things she would have liked to have known.

The week that followed seemed the longest of Caroline's life. She went to work automatically, just living for the weekend and Adam's return. Ruth, who questioned her about Adam, received monosyllabic replies and soon tired of asking. Caroline felt sure Ruth thought she was a misery and she tried to be her usual cheerful self without much success.

The weather was cold and miserable too, and as it was only the middle of December everybody was forecasting a long, hard winter. Caroline listened to the old men on the bus grumbling about the inadequacy of their pensions to provide coal or heating of any kind and she thought how lucky she really was to be young and still able to work. Although she and Amanda thought their lives were dull, compared to some theirs was an ideal existence and she resolved to be more tolerant in future and more cheerful. After all, it was Thursday already and Adam was due back tomorrow.

Mark Davison came into the typing pool on Thursday afternoon with a sheaf of letters for one of the other girls. After delivering them and seeing that Miss Morgan was not about he strolled across to Caroline's desk. A tall, slim, fair young man dressed in a light grey suit, he looked debonair and quite handsome, and was well aware of it.

He leaned on Caroline's desk, familiarly, and said: