Living With Adam

Now he drove between the stone posts guarding the drive and brought his car to a halt to the side of the house where rhododendrons brushed the bonnet, burgeoning with spring colour. Sliding out of the car, he walked round the bonnet to the front porch and entered into the panelled hall. He was feeling pleasantly thoughtful, and was looking forward to taking a bath before evening surgery. But even as he closed the front door his eyes were attracted to a brilliant orange anorak that was draped over the banister at the foot of the stairs. And as his eyes travelled further he saw also two suitcases, standing side by side below the anorak.

A feeling of impatience gripped him as several thoughts ran through his mind, and he strode swiftly down the hall to the kitchen from where the murmur of voices could be heard. He flung open the door, startling his housekeeper, Mrs Lacey, who came to greet him excitedly, gesturing at the girl who was perched on one of the tall stools by the breakfast bar.

‘You’ve got a visitor, Mr Adam,’ she said, clasping her hands together agitatedly. ‘An unexpected visitor!’

Adam’s eyes moved from Mrs Lacey’s animated face to that of the girl who was sliding off the stool as his housekeeper spoke, looking towards them with anticipation, and an expression of irritability crossed his lean face. Despite the fact that her chestnut hair was now trimmed to shoulder length, and her tall young body was slimmer than he remembered, those amber eyes trimmed with dark lashes were the same, as was the generous width of her mouth and the capricious tilt of her nose. And because he recognized her, he felt a rising sense of resentment that his mother should have dared to allow her to come here uninvited.

‘Hello, Maria,’ he said formally, without any warmth in his voice, but the girl didn’t seem at all abashed by his coolness. Instead, her eyes sparkled and she ran across the space between them, winding her arms about his neck and kissing him with enthusiasm on his cheek. Adam was flabbergasted, putting up his hands to catch her wrists and press her away from him, while his startled gaze caught Mrs Lacey’s undisguised amusement. But Maria merely stepped backwards, allowing him momentarily to retain his involuntary hold on her wrists, and smiling mischievously, said: ‘Don’t look so disapproving, Adam! Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ Her voice was soft and husky, with a faint brogue that was attractive.

Adam stared at her for a moment, unable to find words to express his feelings, and then he raked a hand through his hair and said: ‘How the hell did you get here?’

Maria shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘By plane, of course.’ She glanced smilingly towards Mrs Lacey. ‘Your housekeeper has been very kind. I arrived about an hour ago.’

Adam heaved a sigh. ‘It was only this morning I received my mother’s letter asking whether you might be allowed to come here,’ he exclaimed sharply. ‘I don’t know why she bothered to write—in the circumstances.’

Maria’s eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, but I do, Adam. You see, she doesn’t know I’ve come.’

‘What!’ Adam was aghast.

Maria raised her dark eyebrows and spread her hands in an eloquent gesture. ‘But don’t you see, Adam, this is why I came! I felt sure that given time to consider the situation you wouldn’t even contemplate such an arrangement, and I so badly wanted to come.’

Adam felt frustrated. ‘But where does my mother—or your father, for that matter—imagine you are?’

‘I told them I was going to stay the week-end with a friend in Dublin. A taxi took me to the station and I took a train to Dublin. But I flew to London as well.’

‘Don’t you realize that was a completely irresponsible thing to do? A girl of your age travelling all that way—alone!’

Maria sighed. ‘I’m not a child, Adam.’

‘No, I can see that. Nevertheless, you’re still not old enough to look after yourself properly.’

‘Oh, Adam!’ Maria pouted, her eyes flashing. ‘Please, I’ve come to London for some freedom, not to be even more confined than I was in Kilcarney!’

Adam looked helplessly at Mrs Lacey, and she said: ‘Don’t you think you ought to telephone your mother, doctor? She may be worried. If they should happen to have tried to contact Miss Maria…’

Adam gathered his thoughts, nodding decisively. ‘Yes, you’re right, Mrs Lacey. I must do that. But as for you, young woman…’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

Maria tossed her head. ‘Don’t say anything, Adam, except that I can stay, and I shan’t be any more trouble.’

Adam opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again. What was the use? She was here now, and after all, a little earlier he had been on the point of writing to tell his mother she could come. Certainly he had not imagined this situation being thrust upon him, or that Maria should look and act so differently from his expectations. Women were always unpredictable, he thought with male arrogance, and yet he had not expected Maria to appear womanly. He wasn’t at all sure exactly what he had expected, maybe an enlargement of that picture he had of her in his mind’s eye with a ponytail and a gymslip, but definitely not this confident creature, this product of her generation, with silky hair that tip-tilted slightly at the ends, and a taste in modern clothes that the inhabitants of Virginia Grove might find startling. Right now she was wearing a calf-length midi dress in a rather attractive shade of lovat, but its simple lines were not enhanced by the long front opening that revealed slender legs in knee-length soft leather boots. Adam shook his head a trifle resignedly. He could imagine with feeling Loren Griffiths’ reactions to Maria Sheridan…

CHAPTER TWO

MARIA awoke with a start, and lay for a while wondering why there were no lace curtains at her windows, and why the coverlet on her bed was not the handwoven one she had always been used to. Then realization of her surroundings came to her, and she moved pleasurably under the soft sheets, a smile curving her lips. Of course, she was no longer in Kilcarney, she was here in London, in Adam’s house.

Her gaze drifted round the room, and she noted with pleasure the lemon striped curtains that matched the lemon bedspread, and the light teak veneer of the furniture. There was a soft, fluffy cream carpet on the floor, into which her toes had curled the night before, which seemed so much more luxurious than the woven carpets they had at home. But then her father was not one for appreciating such things. He was a very practical man in most things, preferring serviceability to artistic merit. Only the advent of Geraldine Massey into their lives had softened his attitudes slightly, and Maria had reason to be grateful to her stepmother for providing her with an ally. Over the years, it had been Geraldine who had interceded with her father on her behalf, and brought some measure of tolerance into their lives. And in this business of Maria coming to England, to take a secretarial course, Geraldine had been the prime mover.

Naturally, Maria had wanted to come. For years she had longed to escape from the confined life in Kilcarney where her father was a pillar of the community, and as such, unable to view any of his daughter’s escapades with forbearance. But until now there had been no opportunity. She had been at the convent school, and surrounded by restrictions of one kind or another. But now she had left school and she was free to do as she wished, at least so long as her father was agreeable.

But it had been hard to convince him that no harm could come to her living with Adam, and she knew that if Adam should have shown any signs of misgivings regarding her proposed visit, her father would have overruled both Geraldine and herself and refused outright to allow her to come. That was why she had taken such a chance and deceived even her stepmother who might have felt it was her duty to inform her husband of what was going on.

Maria sighed and slid out of bed. Thankfully, she was here now, and if her father had sounded distrait on the telephone last evening at least he had not demanded that she should return immediately, and Maria knew that, given time, Geraldine would talk him round.

Now she padded to the window and looked out on to the small cul-de-sac below her windows. Unfastening the catch, she pushed up the window and leaned on the sill. The air was chill, and she shivered, but it was as much with anticipation as with the cold. Suddenly life was immensely exciting, and all sorts of possibilities were presenting themselves.

Suddenly she saw that an elderly woman across the Grove who had been on the point of gathering her milk bottles from her front step was regarding her disapprovingly and Maria glanced down at the scarcity of her attire hastily. She was merely dressed in the shortie nylon pyjamas she had worn to sleep in, and quickly she drew back and dropped the window, chuckling at her reflection in the mirror of the dressing table as she did so. It would never do to scandalize the neighbours on her first morning, and besides, no doubt they were all wondering who she was and why she was staying there. After all, Adam was a very eligible bachelor, and gossip was the breath of life to some people.

Shrugging, she went to wash in the huge bathroom that smelled pleasantly of shaving cream and aftershave lotion and then returned to fling open her suitcases which she had left on the floor the night before. She rummaged through them for something to wear. Later she would unpack, but right now she was hungry. It was after eight o’clock, and at home she was used to breakfasting with her father about seven.

As she dressed she hoped she would have a chance to talk to Adam today. Last night he had been aloof and non-committal, asking the usual polite questions about their parents, but seemingly disinterested in herself. Of course, the call to Kilcarney had annoyed him, but that was only to be expected. Then he had disappeared to take evening surgery at his clinic which Mrs Lacey had told her was in the East End of London, Maria couldn’t remember the name, and later when she had expected him back the housekeeper had informed her that he was dining out. Altogether it had been a most unsatisfactory evening, and she determined to change that today.

Now, dressed in close-fitting denim pants in a rather vivid shade of purple and a cream shirt that reached her hips and was belted at the waist, her straight hair swinging to her shoulders, she descended the staircase to the hall below. She wore no make-up, but her skin was naturally smooth anyway.

She hesitated in the hall, looking about her with interest. The carpet here, as on the stairs, was patterned in blues and greens, while all the doors were panelled in a light wood. There was a polished chest on which reposed a vase of tulips and narcissi, and their pale colours looked well against the darker wood.

As she stood there, speculating as to whether Adam breakfasted in the same room as she had dined the night before, Mrs Lacey emerged from the kitchen to regard her with some trepidation.

‘Oh—you’re up, miss,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I—er—I was about to bring you up a tray. The doctor said you might be tired after your journey.’

Maria smiled charmingly. ‘I’m not tired, Mrs Lacey,’ she averred firmly, shaking her head. ‘I feel marvellous!’ She stretched her arms unselfconsciously above her head. ‘Tell me, Mrs Lacey, where is Adam?’

Mrs Lacey tried to hide her disapproval. She was obviously very much aware of the purple trousers, and Maria, sensing this, hid a smile. ‘Mr Adam is just finishing his breakfast, miss. In…in here.’

She moved forward to thrust open the door of the dining-room where Maria had eaten her solitary meal the evening before, and Maria nodded her thanks and entered the room quietly.

Adam was engrossed in his morning newspaper, and with his back to the door barely noticed anyone’s entrance. Obviously, he might expect Mrs Lacey to return to ascertain he had everything he needed, but no one else. Dressed in a dark suit, his linen immaculately white against the darker skin of his neck, Maria thought he looked very cool, and very dark and very businesslike, and a feeling of excitement rippled through her. With her usual lack of inhibition, she walked across the carpeted floor to him and bending, slid her arms round his neck from behind, kissing him warmly against the side of his neck as she sometimes did her father.

Adam jerked out of her grasp in a jack-knife movement to get to his feet and stare at her angrily. ‘Maria!’ he snapped shortly, thrusting his paper to one side and raking one hand through his thick hair.

She smiled enchantingly. ‘Good morning, Adam,’ she said, taking the vacant seat to one side of the chair he had been occupying. ‘I’m sorry I’m late for breakfast.’

Adam seemed to gather his composure, and breathing heavily, considered her impatiently. ‘You’re not late,’ he replied bleakly. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to rise this early. But I have to be away to the surgery by eight-thirty.’

Maria shrugged and reaching for the coffee pot poured herself a cup of coffee with the ease of one used to the practice, and Adam felt the rising sense of frustration he had felt at her attitude the previous evening. ‘But I want to get up this early,’ she said, sipping her coffee. ‘Besides, it will be nice for you having company for a change. Your mother said she always breakfasted with you.’

‘That’s a little different,’ returned Adam dryly, lifting his coffee cup and finishing its contents with a gulp.

Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t see why it should be. I am your sister, after all.’

‘My stepsister!’ Adam corrected her harshly.

‘That’s splitting hairs!’ she observed lightly. ‘That’s your mother’s expression, by the way.’ She chuckled. ‘Hm, this coffee is quite good, but—ugh—do you eat a fried breakfast?’

Adam controlled his annoyance. ‘That’s my business.’

Maria shrugged. ‘I suppose it is. Do you think Mrs Lacey will expect me to do the same?’

‘Perhaps you should ask her that.’ Adam was abrupt.

Maria sighed and regarded him resignedly. ‘Aren’t you going to sit down again, Adam?’

Adam made a point of looking at his wrist watch. ‘I don’t have time,’ he replied, without any trace of apology in his voice.

Maria sighed again, more pronouncedly, and said: ‘Oh, well, I’ll just have some coffee, and I’ll be with you.’

Adam had turned away to examine some papers in his briefcase, but he turned at her words to regard her uncomprehendingly. ‘What do you mean?’

Maria poured more coffee into her cup. ‘I want to come with you this morning—to your surgery, I mean. I want to see where you work, and I might even be able to help you.’

Adam was astounded. ‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, Maria. I have a very adequate receptionist to deal with my affairs. You must entertain yourself as best you can.’

Maria’s cup clattered into its saucer. ‘But I want to come with you, Adam.’

‘Well, you can’t.’ Adam shook his head. ‘And I should change those clothes before you go anywhere, if I were you.’

‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’ Maria got to her feet slowly.

‘If you don’t know then I don’t have the time to tell you,’ retorted Adam, rather cruelly.

Maria clenched her fists. ‘You’re just like my father!’ she exclaimed angrily. She compressed her lips for a moment, and then an unwilling smile lifted their corners. ‘I know you’re only trying to annoy me!’ she said. ‘Maybe you expect me to say I won’t come with you, is that it?’

Adam gave her an exasperated look, and then turned and walked out into the hall, almost bumping into Mrs Lacey as she came to see what Maria wanted to eat. But to her surprise, Maria herself followed Adam into the hall, and lifted the orange anorak from its place in the hall closet.

Adam, who had pulled on a sheepskin car coat over his suit, turned to regard her impatiently. ‘You can’t come, Maria,’ he said firmly, his voice cold. ‘I’m sorry, but my surgery is no place for a—a—girl like you.’ He had been about to say child, but thought better of it.

Maria’s eyes mirrored their hurt, and he studied her for a long moment before saying: ‘I’m sorry,’ again, and turning, he walked to the front door. The door slammed behind him and Maria wrinkled her nose to hide the disappointment she was feeling. Then she tugged off her anorak and threw it back into the closet, not bothering to pick it up when it fell on to the floor, and Mrs Lacey hurried forward and lifted it herself, feeling an unwilling sense of compassion for the girl.

Maria walked moodily back into the dining-room, her hands thrust deep into the hip pockets of her trousers, and wondered with a bleak sense of isolation whether she had done the right thing by coming here.

Then she pushed the thought aside and lifted Adam’s newspaper. Turning it to the first page, she flung herself into his chair and made a brave attempt to read it. Mrs Lacey, coming in a few moments later and encountering her brooding gaze, wondered whether she had been mistaken in thinking she had seen pain in Maria’s amber eyes.

‘What would you like to eat, miss?’ she asked, beginning to clear Adam’s dirty plates on to her tray.

Maria looked up reluctantly. She didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now. ‘Nothing, thank you,’ she replied politely, and Mrs Lacey looked at her doubtfully.

‘Don’t you think you ought to have something, miss?’ she asked. ‘A young girl like you. You must he hungry.’

Maria compressed her lips again. ‘I was,’ she admitted quietly. ‘But not now.’

Mrs Lacey sighed, putting down the tray and folding her arms. ‘Now that’s silly, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. Saying you don’t want food just because Mr Adam wouldn’t take you with him—’

Maria’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t mention Adam,’ she said, with an attempt at coolness.

Mrs Lacey shook her head. ‘No, of course you didn’t. But that’s what’s wrong, I can tell. You wanted to help, that’s all, but you can’t, so you might as well make the best of a bad job.’

Maria looked at her distantly, and then her mobile face broke into a grudging smile. It was not in her nature to remain moody for long, and it wasn’t Mrs Lacey’s fault after all. ‘All right,’ she agreed, with a sigh. ‘I did want to go. But I couldn’t, and now I don’t feel very hungry.’

‘Well, what about some cereal? Or perhaps a little bacon.’

Maria looked horrified at this. ‘Oh, no,’ she cried. ‘But maybe some toast.’

Mrs Lacey nodded. ‘All right, miss. Some toast, and perhaps a little of my home-made marmalade.’

Maria smiled. ‘That sounds delicious!’

After breakfast, Maria asked the housekeeper whether there was anything she could do around the house. Mrs Lacey looked surprised, and said: ‘Like what, miss?’

Maria frowned. ‘I could make the beds,’ she volunteered, ‘or perhaps you would like me to do the washing up. I can cook, too.’

Mrs Lacey was obviously taken aback. Guests did not usually offer their services around the house, but the idea was not unpleasant. Even so… ‘That’s very kind of you, miss,’ she replied, rather flustered, ‘but it’s not necessary, you know. This isn’t a large house and caring for one man doesn’t take a lot of doing.’

‘But there’s two of us now,’ pointed out Maria, but Mrs Lacey still shook her head.

‘It’s very kind of you, miss, but I don’t think Mr Adam would approve. In any case, you haven’t been out of doors since you arrived yesterday afternoon. How would you like to go down to the shops in the High Street, and fetch me some things I need?’

‘Shopping?’ Maria hesitated. ‘Oh, yes, I should like that.’

‘Good.’ Mrs Lacey was relieved to have found a solution to Maria’s problem, and in the kitchen she made out a list of her requirements. Later, armed with a shopping basket and Mrs Lacey’s purse, Maria made her way, following the housekeeper’s directions, to the High Street.

It was a beautiful spring morning now that the early chill had dissipated, and Maria’s sense of well-being returned. It was natural that Adam should find it difficult to adapt to having someone else living in his house, particularly as that someone was also related to him, if only by marriage. She must not expect to make too many demands on him all at once. A doctor’s life was not like that of a farmer. He had no set hours, and the responsibilities he carried were bound to make him more serious.

In this happy mood she did her tour of the shops, using her innate country sense of shrewdness when it came to deciding which cuts of meat to buy and which vegetables to choose. She insisted on handling the tomatoes before buying them, much to the dealer’s annoyance, but at least she had the satisfaction at the end of knowing she had not been cheated. In her orange anorak and the purple pants she did not look out of place in the High Street where all manner of attire could be seen, but as she turned again into Virginia Grove she observed several slightly raised eyebrows among the tenants who were out and about. Mrs Lacey was amazed at how little Maria had spent on her purchases, half expecting the girl to come back without half the things she had been sent for. Now she made them some coffee and as they sat companionably at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, chatting, Mrs Lacey found out a little about Maria’s background and of her life in Kilcarney.

After a while Maria skilfully changed the subject and said: ‘What time does Adam come home for lunch?’

Mrs Lacey smiled and slipped off her stool, carrying her empty cup to the sink unit. ‘Oh, about one o’clock,’ she replied. ‘But he doesn’t always come home for lunch.’

‘Oh!’ Maria could scarcely hide her disappointment, and Mrs Lacey went on to say that when he wasn’t coming home he usually telephoned before eleven. ‘And has he phoned today?’ Maria couldn’t help asking.

Mrs Lacey shook her head. ‘No, miss. He’ll be home. After all, afternoons are his only free time until the evening. He has quite a practice, he and Mr Hadley and Mr Vincent.’

‘Who are they?’

‘His partners.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Maria nodded. ‘And the practice is in Islington, is that right?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Where is that?’

‘It’s over towards the East End, beyond Camden Town, miss. Not a particularly nice area, but a big population.’

Maria frowned. ‘The East End? My stepmother said there were a lot of slums there.’

‘So there are, and a lot of them are in Islington.’

‘But why don’t they do something about it?’

‘They are. Eventually all those old tenement buildings will be pulled down and there’ll be flats and things, miss. It’s just that it’s easier said than done.’

‘And Adam works there.’ Maria stared at Mrs Lacey. ‘Why?’

Mrs Lacey folded her arms. ‘He knows that’s where he’s most needed, miss. Terrible place for illness, damp houses are. There are a lot of old people there, too. Live alone, a lot of them. Like this Mrs Ainsley, who’s in St Michael’s right now.’

‘Mrs Ainsley?’

‘Yes, she’s an old lady of about seventy. Lives alone, she does. Got this old dog, Minstrel. Anyway, last week she tripped at the top of the stairs and fell right down.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ said Maria, pressing a hand to her throat. ‘Is—is she very badly injured?’

‘Well, she’s alive. But there were internal injuries, you know. Bleeding, she was, when they found her.’

Maria shook her head. ‘And who found her?’

‘The doctor himself. He was used to calling on her, just for a visit. He used to say she needed someone. But anyway, she’s in the hospital now, and God knows when she’ll get out, poor soul.’

Maria bit her lip. ‘Has she no family?’

Mrs Lacey considered. ‘I don’t think so. Not in this country anyway. She did have a daughter, but she emigrated some time ago.’

Maria sighed, cupping her chin on one hand. ‘I think I should like to work with people,’ she said. ‘It must be very rewarding, helping someone like that.’

Mrs Lacey raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But I thought you’d come here to England to take a secretarial course at the commercial college?’