Living With Adam. Anne Mather

to the table, swallowing half his whisky and placing his glass on the table. Seating himself, he regarded Maria sombrely, and she fidgeted with her napkin, wishing he would say something—anything.

      Finally she asked: ‘Where is Miss Griffiths?’

      Adam lifted his shoulders in a casual gesture. ‘Keeping an appointment with her producer, I believe,’ he replied.

      ‘Her producer?’ Maria licked her upper lip thoughtfully. ‘What is she? Some kind of actress?’

      Adam’s expression grew slightly mocking. ‘You mean you haven’t heard of her?’

      ‘Should I have done?’

      He frowned consideringly. ‘Perhaps not. Her reputation has been made mostly here and in the United States. She’s had considerable success there.’

      ‘I see.’ Maria nodded. ‘I thought she expected some kind of recognition from me. I think I disappointed her, Adam.’

      His eyes narrowed. ‘Well, I suppose that’s one way of putting it,’ he remarked mildly. ‘Tell me, exactly what was going on when I arrived to interrupt you?’

      Maria’s cheeks turned a brilliant red. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

      ‘If she had, would I be asking?’

      ‘I don’t know. You might. You might expect me to lie about it.’

      ‘Now why would you do that?’

      Maria lifted her shoulders defensively. ‘Oh, well, she said I shouldn’t have come here uninvited, and that I ought to have found a flat to share with some girls of my own age.’

      ‘Did she now?’ Adam sounded intensely interested. ‘And what was your reaction to that?’

      Maria compressed her lips. ‘You heard it,’ she said shortly.

      ‘Ah!’ Adam nodded. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve explained, at any rate. I prefer the truth to prevarication. Remember that, will you?’

      Mrs Lacey came in with their meal at that moment, and for a time there was silence as they tackled the delicious lunch the housekeeper had prepared. Then Maria said:

      ‘You didn’t tell your mother you were engaged to be married, did you?’

      Adam looked up. ‘No,’ he agreed.

      ‘Why?’ Maria bit her lip. ‘If you had explained I shouldn’t have said what I did.’

      Adam lay back lazily in his chair. ‘You must know my mother very well by this time. Would you say she would approve of Loren?’

      Maria rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin on her hands. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps. Surely the most important thing is whether you would be happy with her.’

      Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘Such worldly wisdom!’ he observed.

      Maria sighed. ‘I don’t think she would make you happy,’ she volunteered truthfully.

      Adam stared at her exasperatedly. ‘I don’t recall asking for your opinion.’

      ‘No, but I’ve given it, for what it’s worth.’ Maria studied her fingernails. ‘Have—have you known Miss Griffiths long?’

      ‘A year,’ replied Adam briefly, and Maria knew she had annoyed him again.

      He rose from his seat a few moments later before Mrs Lacey returned with their coffee, and Maria watched him with some exasperation. Surely he was not about to desert her again? Getting up, she came round the table, linking her fingers together nervously.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, sighing. ‘I’ve annoyed you, haven’t I?’

      Adam looked at her impatiently. ‘You provoke me, Maria,’ he replied shortly. ‘I’m not at all convinced Loren isn’t right in her suggestion that you might be better off sharing a flat with girls of your own age.’

      Maria’s brows drew together. ‘You can’t be serious!’

      Adam regarded her intently, and shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Why not? You must admit your arrival here was a trifle precipitate!’

      Maria compressed her lips impotently, anger rising inside her at his hurtful words. ‘You’re deliberately trying to provoke me, now,’ she accused him hotly.

      Adam raked a hand through his thick hair. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was being deliberately cruel, but if he was, it was because her directness aroused his irritation.

      With an exclamation he turned away, hearing the telephone begin to ring with some relief. He opened the door and went to answer it, and when he came back Mrs Lacey was with him, carrying the tray of coffee.

      ‘Oh, surely you don’t have to rush out without even having your coffee, doctor,’ she was protesting, and Adam was apologizing but explaining that the call was urgent.

      Maria stood unhappily watching them. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked, and Adam shifted his gaze to her for a moment.

      ‘One of my patients has had a heart attack,’ he replied briefly. ‘I’m sorry to have to dash off like this, but I’m afraid it’s all part of the romance of a doctor’s life!’ His tone was sardonic and Maria was quite sure he was glad of the chance to escape any further conversation with her.

      She scarcely made any response, and a few minutes later she heard the roar of the Rover’s engine as he backed it expertly out of the drive.

      During the afternoon, Maria decided to go out.

      Mrs Lacey wasn’t at all happy about her venturing far alone, but Maria disregarded her anxious admonitions and taking only a long knitted jacket for her shoulders went out about two o’clock. She felt sick and fed up, and very much out of sorts with herself. It was impossible to consider that this time yesterday she had been full of excitement and anticipation when now she felt so morose and dejected.

      She tried to remember more about the times Adam had visited Kilcarney, but it was difficult finding any comparisons between the man she had known then and the man she knew now. Her impressions then had been those of a schoolgirl, and naturally she had found his greater age and experience rather awe-inspiring. Even so, he had been human and kind, and over the years she had built up a picture of him as a friendly, attractive person, willing to listen to her and interested in her aspirations. How different he was, persisting to regard her as a rather trying nuisance the responsibility for whom had been thrust upon him unwillingly. For the first time, she wondered whether he would have refused to allow her to come had she waited for his reply to her stepmother’s letter. Had she been precipitate, as he had said? She sighed. Either way, it didn’t matter now, and all of a sudden she felt immensely homesick for the warmth and familiarity of her father’s house.