Anne Mather

by Sanja

  brats after all.' He grinned and kissed her nose. 'All right?'

  'Hm,' she murmured, her depression no longer uppermost in her mind.

  'Good, and as you want to be away from them, we'll go into my study and leave the lounge to them, hmm?'

  'Oh, Adam,' she cried softly, and buried her face against his warm comforting chest.

  Adam held her for a moment longer and then in a husky voice he said:

  'Come on, baggage. Let's get indoors before we freeze to death.'

  'All right,' she said, reluctant to leave the intimacy of the car. 'I'll have to telephone Amanda though, to let her know what's going on. She'll be like a mother hen clucking over her chick when she finds out where I am.' She laughed and they got out of the car. 'The couple in the flat below us have a telephone,' she continued, as they walked into the house. 'They'll let her know what's going on. They're an elderly couple and they rarely go out.'

  'Good,' Adam nodded, closing the front doors.

  'Of course, she'll still worry,' said Caroline, sighing.

  'What about?' asked Adam, frowning.

  'Can't you guess?' she answered provocatively.

  He shrugged. 'Don't worry,' he muttered harshly. 'I'm not intending to sleep with you.'

  Caroline raised her shoulders helplessly. 'I'm not worrying,' she exclaimed softly.

  He looked hard at her for a moment and then opened the door leading to his study.

  'Take your coat off, while I go and inform Mrs lones,' he muttered, and abruptly left her.

  Caroline removed her duffel coat and walked into the room. Compared to the opulent luxury of the rest of the house this room was quite austere. Green carpet covered the floor while red leather armchairs were placed carelessly against the walls which were lined with books or filing cabinets. A broad, polished oak desk occupied the centre of the room and was littered with papers.

  Flinging her coat on to a chair, Caroline walked round the desk and seated herself in the swing leather armchair which Adam used when he was using the desk. She smiled lazily to herself as she realised just whose chair she was sitting in. Ruth would never believe it, and nor for that matter would Miss Morgan. Although she loved Adam, it was hard to associate the man she knew with the hard-headed business man he became in the Steinbeck Building and with a sigh she leaned forward and began to gather up the papers scattered so untidily about. As she did so she found she was sorting them and soon had separate piles for banking, loans, land purchases, property holdings, etc. There were also numerous begging letters, letters from charitable organisations and finally his personal correspondence. Working automatically she forgot where she was in the fascination of her occupation. Reading about real estate and demolition contracts and all the comprehensive business which the companies of the corporation covered fascinated her, and she was lost in a world of her own when Adam came back.

  He closed the door with a click and her head jerked up in surprise. At once she wondered whether what she had been doing was taboo, and flushing she said:

  'I'm afraid I've been tidying up your correspon- dence. I hope I haven't done anything I shouldn't. Do you mind?'

  Adam grinned. 'I guess you're welcome to see any of my correspondence,' he replied easily, coming across and leaning over her chair. Studying her neatly arranged piles of letters, he nodded: 'Very businesslike. Would you like to take over as my personal secretary? Miss Freeman from the office comes down here from time to time to clear up the overflow, but otherwise it's chaos.'

  Caroline turned her head to look up at him and her silky hair swung against his cheek.

  'You're not serious,' she exclaimed. 'Besides, I don't think I could do much work if you were around.'

  'Oh! Why?' He sounded teasing and wound her hair round his fingers.

  'Don't provoke me,' she said, twisting her head away, and with a soft laugh he straightened up.

  'Okay, honey. Now, are you going to phone that flat companion of yours?'

  'Gosh, I'd forgotten,' she exclaimed, and leaning over the desk picked up the grey telephone.

  'By the way,' he remarked as she dialled the number, 'don't discuss my correspondence with your friends, will you?'

  'As if I would!' she cried indignantly, as the number began to ring in the Bensons' apartment.

  Adam shrugged. 'You have discussed me with your flat companion, haven't you?' he asked quietly. 'After all, wasn't it she who warned you against my intentions?'

  Caroline blushed scarlet. 'All right, darling, but in future I intend to form my own opinions of people,' and she smiled up at him.

  Adam's fingers caressed her shoulder, burning through the thick material of her sweater. 'But not of men,' he murmured, putting his mouth to the side of her neck. 'Your friend might just have been right about me. Is she experienced?'

  Caroline giggled. 'Remind me to tell you about Ron Cartwright some time,' she said, laughing, then, 'Oh, hello, Mr Benson.'

  The Bensons lived below Caroline and Amanda and had always been good neighbours to the two girls. Both the girls liked the knowledge of the old couple living so near as they could always be called upon to help if necessary.

  When Caroline had identified herself, she said: 'Could you give Amamda a message for me, Mr Benson?'

  'Do you want to speak to Miss Burchester herself?' asked Mr Benson, who was quite willing to go and get her.

  'No. . .that's not necessary,' replied Caroline. 'Anyway, I doubt very much whether she'll be in at the moment. If you could put a note under the door letting her know that I'm staying the night with friends and I won't be home until tomorrow.'

  'Right you are, Miss Sinclair,' agreed Mr Benson at once. 'Just leave it to me. Has the fog caused this delay?'

  'Yes, isn't it dreadful?' said Caroline, smiling at Adam as he placed a lighted cigarette between her fingers.

  'Quite a pea-souper,' said Mr Benson, chuckling.

  and after a few more pleasantries Caroline rang off.

  She picked up the glass containing a Martini which Adam had placed near her and sipped it appreciatively. She sighed.

  'Here I am sitting in the chair belonging to the man who owns Steinbeck,' she exclaimed incredulously. 'It's unbelievable!'

  'Why?'

  'Adam, have you any idea how different our situations are?' she cried, resting her chin on her hand. 'How would you like to live in a tiny flat with only the minimum to live on?'

  'I did once,' he answered surprisingly: 'Did you think I was born rich?'

  Caroline shrugged. 'I really know very little about you,' she said. 'Tell me more.'

  Adam flung himself into an armchair and looked piercingly at her.

  'Are you really interested, Caro?'

  'Adam, everything about you interests me,' she said, unashamedly.

  'Well: I started with a few pounds when I was about twenty. I bought a piece of land which I got cheaply and which I sold for an immense profit. It was comparatively easily done in those days. Prices weren't the same then as they are today. If you take that small deal and imagine it mushrooming into immense proportions, you have the corporation as it stands today. I took in partners, of course, and we took over smaller companies and amalgamated them into the organisation that is now running at Steinbeck. That's all!'

  'All!' she exclaimed. 'It's fantastic. I've read about these things happening but I never knew that was how you became. . .what you are.'

  Adam sighed. 'We bought some property in the States in the last few years and that's partly why I spend some of my time over there. I could delegate a lot of my work to my colleagues, but I enjoy doing it myself, and since Lydia died I have had little else to do.'

  'Lydia? Your wife?'

  'Correct. She died eight years ago. I suppose you've been told it was leukaemia.'

  'Yes,' Caroline nodded.

  Adam sighed. 'It's quite true, although honestly I don't think Lydia cared much for living after John was born and we were getting steadily prosperous. I really believe she liked bei
ng poor, living in the shabby flat in Kennington which was all we could afford when we first got married.'

  He rose to his feet and crossed to the cocktail cabinet. Pouring himself a stiff whisky, he swallowed most of it in one gulp.

  'So now you know,' he finished, and replaced his glass on the tray.

  'Did you love her very much?' asked Caroline, torturing herself with the question.

  'Love?' Adam shrugged his powerful shoulders. 'I married Lydia when I was just twenty. I didn't even know what it was all about in those days. She was five years older than I was and she was very keen. She let me treat her how I liked and then one day she told me she was pregnant. I believed her and we got married almost immediately. John was born twelve months later.'

  'Oh.' Caroline bent her head. She was sure he had never told anyone else that before and she wanted to run to him and show him that she cared, cared passionately. But she remained where she was.

  'Since then,' he continued slowly, 'I've known a lot of women. But love hasn't entered into it.'

  '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 ther
e 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.