The Look of Love (33 page)

“Do you
remember the picture of my mother?”

Chrissy was
suddenly side-tracked. “Yes,” she said in confusion. “But why
mention that now?”

“Because of the
car.”

“The car?”

“Yes. My father
bought my mother the lotus on her birthday because she wanted a car
to give her more independence. He had spent much time and effort
choosing it. He had even ordered the colour and interior upholstery
according to my mother’s tastes. She loved it and drove it with
passion. My father was delighted. It brought them both great joy.
She in driving the car and him in watching and sharing her
enjoyment.

“My mother used
to love driving the car round the many winding and narrow country
lanes in the hills and on the moors. She was killed when she lost
control of the car on one of those lanes and it overturned. She
died instantly, but the car was remarkably undamaged.

“The lotus was
the instrument of my mother’s death, but long after she died, it
sat in the garage at home, fully restored and resplendent in red.
Another man might have taken an axe and destroyed it, but my father
did not. He could never part with it, either. And why? Because he
knew that part of my mother’s spirit still lived in that car. Each
week he would roll it out and wash it and polish it. Its engine
would be tuned and then it would be returned to the garage.”

“Do you do the
same?” Chrissy asked him.

“No, I do not.
As soon as my father died I had it taken away and crushed.”

Chrissy was
appalled. “Oh, Adam, you didn’t?”

He nodded
sadly. “It was one of the greatest mistakes of my life. I did it in
a fit of pique, and I have regretted it ever since. You see, I
didn’t understand until too late. My father washed and polished the
car because it brought him back to a happier time, it made him feel
close to my mother. I only saw the lotus as a murderer, while he
saw it as a link with the past. Too late I realised the truth, and
now restoring it is just another one of those unattainable
dreams.”

They sat in
silence for a moment, and then Chrissy asked, “Why are you telling
me this?”

“Don’t crush
him until you are sure of his motives,” Adam replied suggestively.
“He is protecting his brother, which is understandable. You may
hate him for it now, but do not condemn him until you know all the
facts. There may be reasons for his actions, and he may not be as
evil as you think.”

Chrissy was
amazed at Adam’s defence of Scott. “Why do you stick up for him
like that? You don’t even know him.”

“True, but I
would hate to see you make a mistake that you could regret for the
rest of your life.”

Chrissy was
even more amazed. She put her hands on her hips and exclaimed,
“Anyone would think you wanted me to fall in love with him!”

“Only if he
loves you as dearly as I.”

Adam’s
expression was so earnest that Chrissy forgot all about Scott in an
instant. Her heart had already been softened, and now, along with
her resolve, it melted to sludge.

“If you asked
me now, I’d say yes,” she said softly.

Adam smiled. He
took her hand in his. “Do you know what a Marquis is?”

“It’s a big
tent, isn’t it?” Chrissy replied instantly and more brightly.

“That’s a
marquee –are you mocking me?”

“When have I
ever done that?”

Adam nodded
knowingly. “Charles told you. I will have to think up a suitable
penalty. I knew that you couldn’t have failed to have noticed the
coat of arms on the silverware and crockery. Your restraint is
commendable, but I will exact my revenge later. But to resume. If I
proposed and you agreed, you would become the next Marchioness.
Would you be happy with this title?”

Chrissy looked
thoughtful. “I don’t think I can see myself as a Marchioness. It
makes me think of maiden aunts with grey hair and posh
accents.”

“Exactly! You
are far too young and beautiful to be lumbered with such a stale
image. Better that we stay unmarried, that way you will be forever
youthful and desirable.”

Chrissy was
sure that it was him that was mocking her. She snatched her hand
away. “Cad!” she remarked. “You just don’t want to risk asking me
even after I’ve told you that I’d say yes! Coward! Don’t you trust
me?”

When Adam
answered her, there was no sign of mockery in his voice, so he was
either serious, or he hid it well.

“I trust you,
and I believe you. And part of me wants to take advantage of your
honesty. But I know that you don’t really mean what you say, even
though you may believe it yourself.”

“I do mean it!”
Chrissy insisted.

“You are only
nineteen, Chrissy, far too young to be committing yourself to
marriage just yet. You have your whole life ahead of you, with many
experiences and decisions to make. There will be time enough for
marriage later, but for now, play.” He smiled at last, and added,
“Wear that red dress for me on Saturday, make me a happy old
Marquis!”

Chrissy stuck
her tongue out at him. “Go suck! You only want me for my body.
Well, it’s marriage first, sex later. You had your chance, now
you’ve blown it!” She folded her arms and turned her back on
him.

Adam clutched
at his heart. “Oh, the agony!”

Chrissy spun
round and poked him in the ribs. Adam grabbed her and they fell
back on the sofa laughing. They kissed again. Adam slipped his hand
under her jumper at the back, and when their lips parted he
murmured, “I see the bandages are back on.”

She pulled his
hand from under her jumper. “I got mum to do it on Sunday
night.”

“Good.”

They stared
intently into one another’s eyes, then Chrissy said, “Thank you,
Adam.”

“There is no
need for thanks.”

“You took my
mind off things. I would have been really morbid if you hadn’t
come. You’ve made me laugh. I didn’t think I could laugh
today.”

Adam caressed
her neck and the side of her face, his fingers running through her
hair. “I came here for myself as well as for you,” he told her. “I
needed to see you and hold you. I love you greatly, and if our ages
were nearer –Ah! The unattainable dream again!”

“It’s not
unattainable,” she told him, and meant it. “I know you mean well
with your advice, and I know my mum would kick up a fuss, but it’s
me that has to make the decision about my future. And I know that
if I married you, it wouldn’t be a mistake.”

“It would be if
you only did it for your dream.”

His reply was
blunt, but it sank home. Chrissy sat up. She looked annoyed. “Do
you really think I would marry you just for your money?”

“Not knowingly,
no. But you are aware of it, and no matter what you might think and
say, it does have an influence on your view of me.”

“That’s
horrible!”

“Am I more
handsome than this boy you mention?”

Adam had fired
the question at her, and Chrissy was instantly confused.

“No–Yes–Oh, I
don’t know!” She shook her head. “I haven’t even thought of you
both in that way!”

“But you must
have!” Adam insisted. “You are only human, so even if it was only
sub-consciously, you must have compared us. He is younger, I am
older. He is poorer, I am richer. All these things will have gone
through your mind, and in the end you must choose. But you are free
to choose one, or neither of us. We only are the losers, him and I.
Tonight you said you would choose me, but this boy may not be as
guilty as you think, and in a few months time you may feel
differently, you may even have found someone else.”

Chrissy glared
at him. “I hate it when you’re right!” she snapped. “Mum’s right,
too! You are too old! Know it all!”

Adam laughed.
“I will give you no more advice than this: Choose with your heart,
Chrissy, and not with your head. Because your head is both the home
of practicality and the home of your dreams. Everyone tells you to
use your head, but in the matter of love, this is wrong. Your head
will choose the path that is practical, or the path to your dream.
But your heart will always choose the path to your love.”

Adam got up and
held out his hand to her. “Now I think I have stayed long enough.
It is late, come, walk me to the door.”

Reluctantly,
Chrissy stood up and did as he asked. When they were at the front
door, Adam turned to her.

“Wait here a
moment.”

He hurried to
the car, opened the back door, and pulled out a large and faded
white box. As soon as Chrissy saw it, she knew what it was.

“Oh, no, Adam!”
she called to him. “I told you I didn’t want it! Please, Adam!”

It was no use.
Adam closed the car door and came back up the path. He held the box
out to her.

“I want you to
have it,” he said.

Chrissy shook
her head. “I can’t!”

Adam was
insistent. “You can, and you must. You never know, it maybe me who
stands next to you when you wear it. And you must wear it. Because
the greatest crime would be not to wear it.” He held the box out to
her. “Please, Chrissy, give the dress a second chance, give it
another day in the sun.”

Chrissy gave
in. She reached out and took the box from him. Adam smiled. Chrissy
smiled back at him.

“You should
have asked me, you know,” she told him.

He nodded. “I
may yet do so.”

He turned to
leave and Chrissy took a step forward. “Take me to the pictures
tomorrow!” she said quickly.

Adam paused. He
nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll be here at seven.”

Chrissy was
delighted. “Good! I’ll see you tomorrow, then!”

“Yes, I will
see you tomorrow.”

Adam turned and
walked down the drive. Chrissy watched as he got into his car,
waved and drove off. Chrissy waved back, and she watched as his car
turned on to Chester Road and disappeared. As soon as Adam was
gone, Chrissy went back inside the house, closed the front door,
and bounded upstairs.

Veronica went
upstairs a short time later. She had heard Adam leave, and she
wanted to talk to her daughter about him. There were one or two
things she wanted to say. But when she got upstairs it was to find
the door to Chrissy’s bedroom wide open, and Chrissy standing in
front of the mirror wearing a full length white wedding dress.

The dress was
quite figure hugging until knee level, then it flared out and there
was a long train. The bodice was decorated in pearls. It was
strapless with a low neckline, leaving Chrissy’s shoulders and arms
bare. On her head Chrissy was wearing a white silk veil that she
had found in the box.

Veronica
staggered back and had to lean on the door. “Oh, my baby!” she
exclaimed, a hand to her mouth.

Chrissy looked
up. “It fits, mum,” she said in wonder. “It fits perfectly. Isn’t
that strange?”

“Where did you
learn to cut hair?” Victoria asked Rosanna. She was sitting on a
chair in the bathroom with a towel round her neck and shoulders.
Rosanna was cutting her hair and Louise was standing close by,
watching.

“I used to work
in a hairdressers once,” Rosanna replied as she combed out another
length of Victoria’s hair and clipped away. “Oh, it was ages ago
now. But you never forget. I’ve trimmed Louise’s hair before, but
I’ve never cut hair as long as yours. Shame, really.”

“I know. I’m
such a–”

“Don’t say it!”
Louise interrupted quickly.

Victoria
glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, grinned, and said,
“–prat.”

Louise sighed,
and Rosanna said, “It’ll grow back. It’ll take a long time, but it
will. Anyway, it’s sometimes good for the hair to have it cut
back.”

“You’ll be
telling me to stick it in a pot with compost and sit it on the
windowsill next.”

Rosanna poked
her in the back. “Shut up cheeky!” She was secretly pleased to find
both Louise and Victoria in happier spirits after the earlier
events of the day. She suspected why that might be, but she didn’t
pry.

As Rosanna
clipped away some more, Victoria twisted around to try and see
herself in the bathroom mirror. But it was too far to her left for
her to see properly.

“Stop moving
about,” Rosanna told her. “If you keep turning your head like that
I’m going to cut your ear off!”

“But I want to
see!” Victoria moaned. “Half my hair is already on the floor. I
want to see how I look. What’s it like, Louise? I bet Rosie is
getting her revenge by giving me a Mohican!”

“I am not!”
Rosanna replied. “Now stop fidgeting!”

Louise smiled
as she watched Rosanna and Victoria together. “It looks alright,
Vikki,” she told her. “It really does. You wait and see.”

By the time
Rosanna was finished, the bathroom floor was covered in clumps of
blonde hair. It was sort of sad.

Victoria stood
in front of the mirror as she and Louise stared at Rosanna’s
handiwork.

“That’s quite
good,” Victoria said in surprise as she stared at herself in the
bathroom mirror.

“Of course it
is,” Rosanna said indignantly. She gave Victoria’s hair one last
brushing.

Victoria looked
quite different. Her hair now stopped just short of her shoulders.
It was straight, not a bob, and she had a neat fringe. And when she
shook her head it went all fluffed and floaty before falling back
into place.

“What do you
think?” she asked Louise, turning to face her with a grin.

Louise smiled.
“I think it looks cute. Cute and cheeky.”

“Cute!”
Victoria exclaimed, clutching at her chest. “Quick, Rosie! Give me
a Mohican!”

“I’ll do no
such thing,” Rosanna replied as she began to collect up her combs
and scissors. “Mohican indeed! You look nice. And there’s nothing
wrong with being cute.”