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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?’
Maria smiled. ‘I have. At least, that’s what Geraldine thought I would enjoy doing. But after listening to you, I’m not so sure. There must be hundreds of old people, like this Mrs Ainsley. Perhaps there are opportunities in that kind of social work—’
Mrs Lacey looked anxious. ‘Now don’t you go getting all romantic about caring for people and sorting out their troubles,’ she said. ‘It’s not all that easy. You have to have the patience of Job.’
Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose you’re right. Back home families are larger and usually someone is only too willing to care for the old folk. My grandmother is still alive, and lives in a cottage not far from my father. He wouldn’t dream of cutting her off by moving away.’
Mrs Lacey sighed. ‘No, well, things are different here. People don’t have time to do everything they should do. They’re too busy trying to better their neighbours. They don’t realize that they’ll be old, too, one day.’
Maria traced the pattern of the formica on the breakfast bar with an idle forefinger. ‘Still, I suppose so far as I’m concerned you’re right. But I can’t help feeling sorry for people.’
Mrs Lacey’s expression softened. ‘Don’t be too vulnerable,’ she advised quietly. ‘There’s always someone ready and willing to take advantage of you.’
Maria smiled, ‘That sounds very cynical.’
‘Perhaps I am, at that.’ Mrs Lacey shrugged. ‘Working here as Mr Adam’s housekeeper, I see quite a lot of hardship, but not everybody deserves the help they’re given. You go and take your office course, like you planned. That way you’ll keep out of mischief.’
Maria looked indignant. ‘I can take care of myself.’
Mrs Lacey looked sceptical. ‘Can you? I’m not so sure. Not here, anyway. London’s not all Changing the Guard and Buckingham Palace, you know.’
‘And I’m not still wet behind the ears,’ replied Maria shortly.
‘Nobody said you were. But just by having you here, Mr Adam’s letting himself in for a lot of extra responsibility, and he works hard enough as it is.’
Maria sighed and slid off her stool. She had had enough of this conversation. She remembered her suitcases, still not unpacked, upstairs. She could go and deal with them before lunch, and possibly find something different to wear. Something Adam might not find so objectionable.
But even as she was about to mention her plans to Mrs Lacey the front door bell rang, and Mrs Lacey sighed in annoyance. ‘Oh, will you go and answer that?’ she asked of Maria. ‘My hands are wet. If it’s someone for the doctor you’ll have to ask them to come back later.’
‘All right.’ Maria nodded and walked out into the hall. Smoothing her hair, she opened the door and stared in some surprise at the woman who was tapping her foot impatiently as she waited outside. Somehow she had not expected to find anyone so decorative on Adam’s door-step, and this woman was most certainly that. Small, and delicately proportioned, with silky golden hair bound into a coronet on top of her head, she was quite beautiful, but her expression as she stared appraisingly at Maria was not pleasant.
‘Yes?’ Maria looked at her expectantly. ‘Can I help you?’
The woman glanced back down Adam’s drive, and now Maria noticed a chauffeur-driven limousine at the gates. The woman looked again at her and said: ‘You must be Maria. Adam’s told me about you.’
Maria managed a faint smile. ‘Oh, yes. Er—won’t you come in?’ She felt obliged to invite the woman in, for she was obviously no ordinary patient of Adam’s.
The woman’s lips parted in a semblance of a smile and she stepped into the hall. Her entry brought Mrs Lacey to the kitchen door and when she saw who the visitor was she wiped her hands on her apron and came through.
‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Griffiths,’ she said politely. ‘I’m afraid you’re too early for Mr Adam.’
Loren drew off her pearl grey gloves. ‘But I didn’t come primarily to see Adam,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I wanted to—meet—Maria.’
‘I see.’ Mrs Lacey glanced doubtfully at the girl. ‘And does Mr Adam know you’re here, miss?’
Loren raised her dark eyebrows. ‘I hardly think so. Does it matter?’ Her voice was cool. ‘I’m sure he won’t object, Mrs Lacey.’ She regarded the older woman challengingly and Mrs Lacey’s gaze fell before Loren’s persistent stare.
‘No, miss,’ Mrs Lacey agreed at last. ‘Er—would you like some coffee?’
Loren shrugged. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs Lacey.’
Mrs Lacey sniffed and without another word marched back into the kitchen. ‘Ignorant old woman!’ remarked Loren maliciously, and Maria felt her own cheeks burning as she over-heard the comment. Then Loren turned to her and said: ‘As Mrs Lacey has omitted to introduce us, I suppose I had better do it myself. I’m Loren Griffiths!’
She said the name as though she expected it to have some effect on Maria, but Maria merely managed a faint smile and Loren went on: ‘Has Adam mentioned me?’
Maria twisted her hands together. ‘I’m afraid not. But then it’s several years since I last saw him, and I only arrived yesterday afternoon.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Loren smiled rather sardonically. ‘Well, shall we go into the lounge?’
Maria moved forward quickly, apologetically. ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she said hastily, not altogether sure how to treat this woman who seemed to know her step-brother so intimately, and was quite at home in his house.
Loren preceded her into the low, light lounge that faced the gardens at the back of the house. It was a pleasant room furnished simply and comfortably with black buttoned leather couches and a cream and gold patterned carpet on the floor. Here Adam had a television and a radiogram, and there were bookshelves filled with every kind of literature, as Maria had discovered the night before. French doors opened on to a small patio, where there were tubs of climbing plants and a trellis overgrown with rambling roses.
Loren seated herself comfortably on the couch, opening her coat to reveal a short-skirted woollen dress in an attractive shade of turquoise, and indicated that Maria should take the chair opposite. But in this Maria thwarted her, pretending not to see her gesture. She was somehow loath to sit down to what might well turn out to be a kind of refined catechism. Obviously this woman had come here out of curiosity to see what Adam’s stepsister was really like, and although Maria could understand her curiosity, she couldn’t help feeling this visit was precipitate. However, she did come to stand by the screened fireplace, smiling cautiously at her guest and wondering exactly what her relationship was to Adam.
Loren herself seemed completely at ease, lighting a cigarette which she had extracted from the heavy box on the low table in front of her and drawing on it to her satisfaction. Maria waited patiently for her to speak, and presently Loren said:
‘I suppose Adam was quite surprised to find you here yesterday, wasn’t he?’
Maria smiled and relaxed a little. ‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed, with candour. ‘I don’t think he was particularly pleased about it.’
Loren studied her intently. ‘Perhaps not. Didn’t it occur to you to consider that it would have been more diplomatic to wait until you were actually invited?’
Maria was taken aback. ‘No. I didn’t think it was necessary,’ she replied. ‘Adam is my brother.’
‘He is your stepbrother, which is quite a different thing.’
‘Nevertheless, he is a part of my family.’
‘A part you don’t know very well, I would hazard a guess,’ observed Loren a little dryly.
‘Perhaps so. I intend to remedy that,’ replied Maria, aroused by the other woman’s scornful manner.
