Anne Mather

by Sanja

  'Oh, John,' she began slowly, 'it's beautiful. But I couldn't possibly accept such a costly present from you, really.'

  'Is that all?' John looked relieved and smiled. 'Don't be silly. I shall be offended if you refuse. Please, Caroline. I want you to have it, to wear it.'

  Caroline sighed. It seemed that fate intended that she should have the bracelet, but she felt she hated the brilliant thing. It would be a continual reminder of things that might have been and Adam's rejection of her.

  'Very well,' she said at last. 'Thank you, John. I can honestly say I've never seen or owned such a beautiful piece of jewellery.'

  John looked and felt pleased with himself.

  'Good,' he said. 'Now, I'm going to give you a

  really wonderful day. A day to remember.'

  And so he did. Had it not been for the constant reminders of Adam in his manner and attitudes, Caroline thought it would have been the most perfect birthday she had ever spent.

  They returned to London in the evening and went to a nightclub to celebrate her entry into the 'drinking classes' as he put it.

  The following day, Sunday, John could only meet her in the late evening. He had spent the day with his father at Slayford and had had difficulty in explaining why he hadn't brought his current girl-friend to meet his father. Adam was used to John's conquests being exhibited before him and could not understand his son's rather strained conversation concerning the girl he was going to meet that evening. However, he did not probe too deeply, relying on John to tell him if he wanted to.

  John told Caroline a little of this and Caroline felt awful.

  'I expect you'll have to tell him,' she said, sighing. 'I don't want to cause dissension between you.'

  'I will, some time,' said John, sensing her discomfiture. 'Don't worry. He won't object.'

  Caroline wondered about this. Would he object? And if he didn't what would it prove?

  They spent the rest of the evening at a jazz club in a cellar in Chelsea. The music was played by a black band and it was wild and pulsating. At John's suggestion Caroline was dressed in scarlet velvet lounging pants and a black sweater and was glad she had taken his advice. All the members seemed to dress in this way and danced with abandon to the African rhythm.

  After a particularly energetic session, Caroline collapsed against John in one corner of the big room.

  'You're very good,' she confessed breathlessly, 'but I'm exhausted.'

  'You're not so bad yourself,' he replied, looking down at her as she tried to straighten up, away from him. She was quite unconscious of the effect she was having on John, his senses roused by the passionate music.

  Suddenly, he bent his head and she felt his mouth against the side of her neck, his body trembling against hers.

  'Oh, John!' She drew away, breathing quickly.

  'Am I blacklisted?' he muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair.

  'No, of course not,' she answered, not quite aware of how to handle this situation. She had not considered this happening somehow, although she was aware that John had been watching her of late with more than friendship in his eyes. She had hoped against hope that she was no more to him than he was to her, but apparently this was not so. They had had a lot of fun and lots of laughs, but that was as far as she wanted it to go. She could never love anyone else in the way she loved Adam and she knew instinctively that that was the right way. No matter what happened, John could never be more than second-best.

  'Surely you'd guessed how I felt?' he asked her, studying her face in the semi-darkness of the quiet alcove.

  'No, I'm afraid I didn't,' she replied restlessly. 'Oh, John, what can I say. . .'

  He shrugged. 'Please, don't say anything. Forget it.

  It was too much to hope you might be feeling the same way.'

  Caroline sighed, shaking her head. 'Does this mean we stop seeing each other?' she asked.

  'No. At least I hope not,' he protested, grasping her shoulders. 'Caroline, I'm in love with you. I've never felt this way before. I must go on seeing you.'

  Caroline hesitated and then moved closer to him. 'Kiss me, John. If you want to?'

  John needed no second bidding and bent his head to hers. His mouth was warm and tender and very pleasant, but as they kissed Caroline found herself imagining it was Adam kissing her and her response intoxicated John. The kiss hardened in its passion and with a stifled cry she drew back, rubbing a hand across her lips. It was hateful making use of John in this way.

  When they drove home later, Caroline felt undecided and said:

  'Are you really sure you want to go on seeing me?'

  'Of course,' he replied swiftly. 'Who knows, one day you might suddenly find yourself in love with me. I can only hope, and I want to be around if that happens. After all, you seemed attracted to my father. Am I so different?'

  'No. You're very like him,' answered Caroline.

  'Good. Then that's settled,' he said, with a smile, and she relaxed.

  After John had returned to Radbury, Caroline found herself more alone than ever somehow. Whether their closer relationship had anything to do with it, she wasn't sure, but she certainly missed him.

  However, she began to take a more conscientious interest in her work and Miss Morgan found she was the most efficient in the typing pool. In the Steinbeck Corporation typing pool, good workers were always appreciated and so when one of the senior secretaries left Caroline was offered her position. She accepted with alacrity, although she was aware that her promotion was considered favouritism by the other girls. The old story about herself and Adam was brought up and Caroline was glad when she moved into her new office.

  She was to be private secretary to Mr Lawson, who was in charge of salaries. His staff calculated income tax and insurance contributions together with all the other work connected with wages. Caroline's work proved much more varied and interesting and she enjoyed working without supervision.

  As Easter neared, Caroline found herself looking forward to John's vacation. In one letter he had told her that his father was flying to America in May to see John's grandmother and wanted John to accompany him. John said that he was trying to get out of it and as yet nothing was decided.

  One afternoon in early April, Caroline's boss did not return from his lunch and at two o'clock his wife rang to say that he had developed a severe migraine and was taking the afternoon off. Caroline said how sorry she was before Mrs Lawson rang off and then busied herself with a pile-up of overdue filing. She occupied an office of her own and was working industriously when the telephone pealed beside her. It was the internal telephone and expecting to speak to one of the office staff Caroline lifted the receiver.

  'Mr Lawson's office. Miss Sinclair speaking,' she said easily.

  There was a moment's silence and then a husky male voice asked quietly: 'Caroline. Is that you?'

  Caroline's legs went weak and she sank down on to the edge of the desk.

  'Adam,' she breathed, and then with a semblance of pride she asked: 'What can I do for you?'

  'I wanted to speak to Mr Lawson,' replied Adam, still in that quiet, assured voice. 'I didn't know you worked for him.'

  'I'm Mr Lawson's secretary,' replied Caroline stiffly. She had realised that he had been as surprised as herself when they spoke. After all, had he wanted to get in touch with her he would hardly have done so at the office. She swallowed hard.

  'Mr Lawson isn't in this afternoon. His wife rang to say he had a severe attack of migraine and was going straight to bed.'

  'I see.' He sighed. 'Never mind. I'll contact him later in the week.'

  There was silence for a minute and then he said: 'How are you?'

  'I'm fine,' she replied, forcing her voice to sound light and disinterested. 'And you? Did you enjoy your holiday?'

  'My holiday?.. .oh.. .you mean in January. Yes, it was very pleasant. John came with me for a few weeks during his Christmas vacation. Did you have a good Christmas?'

  'Fairly good
,' agreed Caroline lightly. This small talk between them was so frustrating. Why didn't he ring off?'

  'Tell me,' he said, suddenly intense, 'who is this young man you're going around with?'

  Caroline was astounded. How on earth did he know she was going out with anybody? Was he having her investigated or something? Suddenly she felt angry. How dare he ask her such a question? It was nothing to him but idle curiosity.

  'I can't imagine what business it is of yours,' she exclaimed furiously. 'Where on earth do you get your information?'

  'Don't get so angry,' he said easily. 'I'm not having you followed, if that's what you think. I simply happened to see you having a meal in a coffee bar in Chelsea a few weeks ago with a young man. Is it Davison?'

  'No, it's not. Didn't you see him for yourself?' Her anger had subsided somewhat.

  'No, I'm afraid not.'

  'I see. Well, his name is John Steinbeck,' she replied coolly, wanting to hurt him as he had hurt her. Besides, John had always wanted to tell his father and make their association open.

  She heard Adam's sharp intake of breath and then he snapped:

  'Are you joking, Caroline?'

  'Why should I joke about a thing like that?' she asked, almost hating herself now for being so brutal about it. What must he be thinking of her? If only she could see his face. Just to see if he cared. Suddenly the telephone went dead and she realised he had hung up on her. With a sigh she replaced her receiver on the cradle and shivered uncontrollably. That was that, with a vengeance! And what would happen now? She lit a cigarette and drew on it thankfully.

  She did not have to wait long to find out. It was only minutes before the door of her office was flung open and Adam strode into the room, closing the door decisively behind him. His broad frame made the room seem suddenly tiny and nervously she rose to her feet, conscious of the fact that her hair needed combing and her nose was probably shining.

  He looked big and just as attractive as ever, although he definitely looked tired, as though he was sleeping badly.

  'Well,' she murmured shakily, 'what a surprise!'

  Adam frowned, looking down at her through his thick lashes.

  'Did you honestly think you could tell me a thing like that without my turning a hair?' he snapped angrily. 'God, Caro, are you trying to drive me out of my mind?'

  Caroline flushed and sank down on to the desk again.

  'Of course not,' she answered quickly. 'It's simply that I met John by accident in January while you were away and since then we've been meeting each other whenever he's in town.'

  'As simple as that,' he said cynically, lighting a cigar with impatient fingers. 'Thank God I wasn't foolish enough to believe in your protestations of sincerity. Here we are, only four months later, and you've quite forgotten, haven't you?'

  Caroline stubbed out her cigarette. 'How dare you preach to me!' she cried angrily. 'Of course I haven't forgotten anything. My feelings for you will never change. But as you don't intend to.do anything about it, I feel I'm at liberty to do as I please.'

  'My own son,' he muttered bitterly. 'John, of all

  people. Why? To take revenge?'

  'No, of course not. Hasn't it occurred to you that I might enjoy John's company simply because he is your son?'

  Adam turned away and crossed to the window, looking out without really seeing the view.

  'All right,' he said heavily. 'I know I have no right to interfere. I apologise.'

  Caroline clenched her fists. Her whole being yearned to go to him, to comfort him, to assure him that he need have no qualms about John taking his place. But her pride would not let her do it. After all, she was not even now completely sure of his meaning in all this and he had chosen to ignore his need of her in the past. If he truly believed she would be happier with a younger man then perhaps indeed John might be that man. After all, he loved her. She forced herself to stay where she was.

  'You're looking tired,' she said at last. 'Are you sleeping?'

  'Thank you, yes,' he replied, coldly, and turning he looked at her. His gaze was brooding and intense, a grimness about his mouth. 'I expect it's old age. I was thirty-nine last month.'

  'And I was eighteen,' she replied quietly.

  'I'm afraid I forgot your birthday,' he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

  'Your son remembered,' remarked Caroline, and then with feeling, 'I was given a platinum bracelet.'

  Adam's eyebrows ascended. 'Indeed? So you got it in the end?'

  She flushed. 'Not in quite the expected circumstances,' she said coldly. She felt the old ache in her stomach at the remembrance of it all. 'And not through choice, believe me, but John wouldn't have understood, would he?'

  Adam whitened visibly, then he walked to the door, slowly.

  'I don't think there's anything more to be said,' he muttered wearily. 'Goodbye, Caroline.'

  'Goodbye. . . Mr Steinbeck.' Caroline refused to look up as he went out closing the door behind him. Then as the door clicked, she buried her face in her hands.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She wrote and told John that Adam had found out about their friendship and was relieved when he wrote back saying that his father had already telephoned him about it. John's letter said that Adam had been noncommittal about the whole affair, but that that was only to be expected in the rather strange circumstances. Caroline realised tht this was so and was glad that Adam had not vetoed their association as he could so easily have done. Did this mean he didn't care any more? After all, he dictated John's income and paid his university fees and he could have made him dance to any tune he cared to play. However, as she thought about it Caroline came to the conclusion that Adam probably had decided it was nothing to do with him, in his implacable and stubborn way, and therefore intended to do nothing about it. She herself had come up against this wall of reserve in him before and she only prayed that one day she might have the chance to bridge it by explaining all that the evening with Mark Davison had meant.

  In a later letter from John, he told her that Adam no longer pressed him to accompany him to America in May and he wondered whether Caroline could take a week's holiday during his Easter vacation and spend a week with him in Paris.

  Caroline felt quite excited at the prospect of a trip to France and as her holiday could be taken at any time she decided to go with him. She wrote back agreeing to his suggestion with fervour. It would be just the thing to take her out of herself. John's reply to her acceptance was flatteringly jubilant and he wrote saying that he would make all the arrangements if she could get herself a passport.

  Amanda, who was still unaware of John's identity, was not so keen on the idea and advised Caroline to think carefully before embarking on such a dangerous trip. After all, Amanda reasoned, she knew hardly anything about the boy and had never met his parents.

  However, Caroline managed to sidetrack her most pertinent questions and evaded giving a direct answer to his identity. She didn't quite know why she was doing this. She simply didn't want another lecture.

  And then, a week before the start of John's vacation, Caroline received a telephone call which was to change her whole life. The call was from Miss Beale, advising her that her Aunt Barbara had suffered a severe heart attack that morning and had never regained consciousness.

  Caroline was shocked to the core of her being. Aunt Barbara had been her only living relative and her death severed all her connections with the past. It was shattering to realise that she was completely alone in the world. Aunt Barbara had always been there to turn to if need be, the necessary root that everyone likes to feel can be relied upon. Now there was only emptiness.

  It was a hollow-eyed Caroline who attended the funeral at the little church near her aunt's house and who stood, dressed in a dark suit and coat, as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Her aunt had looked so small when she had seen her lying in her bed that dreadful morning she died, and now, seeing the coffin for the last time, Caroline felt the tears scalding her cheeks.
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  Mr Manson, her aunt's solicitor, who had dealt with her aunt's affairs for years, was very sympathetic and after her aunt's few friends had departed from the old house, he asked Caroline and Miss Beale to join him in the library.

  As she followed Miss Beale into the book-lined room Caroline looked about her regretfully. She had spent many happy hours as a child amongst these old volumes and it had been her aunt who had taught her to appreciate the good music which she now enjoyed so much. Fourteen years of her life had been spent within this old building and she knew that without Aunt Barbara the place would never be the same again. Although quite old when Caroline came to her, orphaned and alone, she had always been young in heart and had always made her young charge feel wanted and loved.

  When they were all seated at the old desk which occupied the centre of the room, Mr Manson drew out an envelope from his briefcase and said:

  'Your aunt's last will and testament, Miss Sinclair.' Caroline looked surprised. As far as she knew her aunt only owned this house and she had never presumed that she herself would ever possess it.

  Mr Manson placed his rimless glasses on his rather angular nose and began to read its contents. The earlier part of the will dealt with some donations to charities which Caroline's aunt had favoured, and Caroline was quite astonished that her aunt, who had always lived so frugally, had amassed sufficient funds to allow her

  to leave such generous amounts.

  Then came a gift of five hundred pounds to Miss Beale, who flushed in surprise and said: 'How very kind, when I had only known her such a short time,' in her shy little voice.

  Finally, Mr Manson turned to Caroline.

  'The remainder of the estate, including this house which you may sell if you so desire, is left to you, Miss Sinclair. After death duties, etc., I estimate you should have some twenty-five thousand pounds, plus of course the price you get for this house if you decide to sell.'