He tried to remember what he knew of her, but five years ago when he had visited Kilcarney he had been newly qualified while she had been a schoolgirl with a rather chunky ponytail and little else to commend her that he could recall.
He drove to St Michael’s Hospital which was situated in a close just off the Embankment. Its stark grey walls revealed its age though its tiled corridors and wards were brightly lit and cheerful. There was talk of its being pulled down and new premises being built, but somehow it continued to survive, and its staff were loyal as well as efficient. Adam had once had the chance of taking a job as houseman here, but he preferred the involvement of general practice.
Mrs Ainsley was still in a side ward, but her pale cheeks warmed a little as she saw who her visitor was. Living alone as she did her only contact was with the doctor, and Adam knew that she regarded him more as a friend than anything else. Now he sat down on the side of her bed and listened patiently as she described in detail everything that had happened to her since she had been brought to the hospital, and of how friendly everyone had been. Adam thought it was easy to be friendly to someone like Mrs Ainsley, and felt his usual regret that her only child, a daughter, should have emigrated to Australia several years ago and never seemed to imagine that her mother might require something more than occasional letters from her. The old lady seemed starved of human contact, and although there were societies or clubs she might have joined, she was reticent and retiring, spending her days knitting or sewing, and looking after Minstrel, her elderly spaniel.
When Adam left the hospital, he drove straight to his house in Kensington. Although his practice was in Islington he had continued to live in the house his mother had acquired soon after his father died, for he knew she liked to come back there sometimes. It was not a large house, it had only four bedrooms, but it had the advantage of being detached, and stood inside a small walled garden where it was still pleasant to sit on hot summer evenings. Of course, all about there was evidence of the continual building programme, skyscraper apartments and office blocks encroaching to the ends of these quiet cul-de-sacs, but the park was not far away and from Adam’s upper windows he could see across the expanse of green lawns to the flower gardens.
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…