Anne Mather (12 page)

'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

S
he
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.

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.'

Caroline gasped and lay back in her chair, absolutely astounded. 'Twenty-five thousand pounds!' she exclaimed shakily. 'But, Mr Manson, my aunt had very little money.'

In the last few years your aunt has been dabbling on the Stock Exchange,' he replied calmly. 'She had a very good broker and has been extremely clever. She was always a keen business woman, although when she was your age she had no opportunity to show her prowess. She was always careful with money and her gambles paid off.'

Caroline lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. She still couldn't take it in. She was rich! She had independent means!

'I had no idea,' she exclaimed, shaking her head. 'Oh, Mr Manson, what can I say?'

'I suggest you say nothing,' he replied with a little smile. 'Miss Sinclair was nearly eighty. She had had a long life and I suspect she would be glad that her end came so swiftly and that she was no burden to anybody. She wanted you to have the money to do the things that she never had the chance to do. She told me many times that you reminded her of herself when she was young, although of course, in those days young girls did not leave home and have their own flats in London. Nor did she have the chance to run around with young men as girls do nowadays. Take the money and enjoy it as she intended you to do. However, if I might make a suggestion, don't advertise the fact too blatantly that you are now a rich young woman. For- tune-hunters are all to plentiful, I'm afraid.'

Caroline sighed. 'Thank you. I'd like you to continue as my solicitor if you would. Then any problems I encounter can be talked over with you.'

'Very well, Miss Sinclair. I should be always ready to offer any advice if necessary. And now I'll leave you. I think it would be as well if you came into my office tomorrow morning and we will discuss the details and your immediate plans. Right?'

'Yes, of course. And thank you. I'm very grateful for all you've done.'

'Not at all,' he answered with a smile. 'It's my job, you know. And now, if you ladies will excuse me...?'

After he had gone, and Miss Beale had gone upstairs to pack her things, Caroline sat for a long time staring into the fire. It was so unbelievable. Suddenly she was a woman of means. Free from all ties. She could give up her job, go anywhere she liked, the world was amazingly her oyster.

Free. The word seemed to mock her. Even now, with all the sadness of Aunt Barbara's death, the sudden shock of finding herself in this enviable position, the love she bore for Adam Steinbeck wove its own fetters about her. She would never be free of loving

Adam and she might as well admit it. She still wanted him just as much. Although she now had the chance to go anywhere that took her fancy, she found the thought of leaving Adam in England tortured her. How could she go thousands of miles away from him? How could she?

But with an effort she dragged herself back to the present. She felt so alone, and she felt she must know someone who cared about her. Then, like a drowning man seizes at a straw Caroline remembered John, and with a swift burst of energy she rose and went out into the hall where the telephone was installed. She rang his rooms in Radbury and miraculously he was in and answered her ring.

'Caroline!' he exclaimed, his voice warm with pleasure. 'I'm so glad you've rung. I got your letter this morning telling me about your aunt. I'm very sorry. Please accept my condolences.'

'Thank you, John. Oh, it's lovely to hear your voice.' Truthfully, his obvious pleasure at hearing from her had warmed her heart, and she really sounded thrilled to speak to him.

'Hey,' John's voice was teasing, 'don't use that tone on the telephone. Save it for when I'm home with you. I've never known you so enthusiastic with me.'

'Oh, John,' she exclaimed with a sigh, 'I was sitting here feeling thoroughly dejected and miserable and suddenly I thought of you. I picked up the phone and there you are. It's wonderful!'

'I see. Well, honey, is it all over?'

'Yes, it's over. But I've a surprise for you. I am now the inheritor of this house and twenty-five thousand pounds.'

'What?' John was as astounded as she had been.

'Yes. I was dumbfounded. Poor Aunt Barbara. It certainly was a closely guarded secret and she didn't use any of the money to make her own life easier. Only her solicitor knew she was gambling on the stock market.'

'Amazing!' John dispelled his breath in a low whistle. 'So now you're an heiress. At least no one can now accuse you of wanting my money.' He chuckled. 'Seriously though, Caro, are you all right? You sound rather het up and nervous. You're not going back to work now, are you?'

'Not tomorrow at least,' she replied. 'I'm going to see the solicitor in the morning. I'm staying here tonight with Miss Beale, she was Aunt Barbara's companion, and then we'll both be leaving. I'm going to put the house up for sale. It's a great barn of a place, and besides, I don't need a house, not just for myself. I'll arrange that with Mr Manson tomorrow.'

'And our week in Paris? Is that to be postponed?'

Caroline sighed. 'I don't know, John. When do you come back home?'

'I suppose I could come tomorrow,' he replied slowly. 'I've very little to clear up. Why?'

Caroline shivered involuntarily. 'Do come back tomorrow,' she murmured, so softly that he could just hear, 'I need you, John. We'll decide about Paris then.'

'Will do,' answered John in return. 'When you speak to me like that, you know I'd do anything.'

After they had rung off, Caroline mounted the stairs to her room, and looked around sadly. No longer would she be coming here for holidays, or for Christmas. No more Saturday visits from Aunt Barbara at the flat.

She felt as though one phase of her life had ended and another was just beginning. As she sat on her bed she wondered whether she had been right in telling John that she needed him. Wouldn't she have been more truthful if she had said that she needed Adam and if she could not have him then any man might fill the gap?

Amanda was astonished and pleased at Caroline's unexpected inheritance. On the few occasions she had met Caroline's aunt, she had thought her a rather pleasant old lady, but certainly no gambler. Aunt Barbara's rather shabby attire and undemanding manner had really hidden the true Barbara Sinclair.

Caroline was amused by her shocked countenance, which turned to amazement when Caroline told her she intended to pay five hundred pounds into Amanda's bank account.

Amanda spread wide her hands. 'Honestly, Caroline, are you sure? I mean, that's an awful lot of money to ge giving away.'

'Why not?' exclaimed Caroline with a sigh. 'I want to do this for you and goodness knows I can afford it.'

'What can I say?' cried Amanda, hugging her impulsively.

'I'm glad you're pleased,' replied Caroline, hugging Amanda in return. 'We've been such good friends, Amanda, and I'd like to think of you with something to fall back upon. I'd also like us to find another flat which we can share. I don't want us to lose touch with one another as we will if I leave here. I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I'm going to resign from Steinbecks, of course, and have a holiday somewhere, and then. . .who knows? I may find myself another secretarial post. I can't imagine myself being continually idle. I would have no point in my life if I had nothing to do.'

'But, Caroline, you can go on a world tour. . .anything of that kind. Surely you want to visit other lands, meet other kinds of people?'

'I don't know.' Caroline shrugged her slim shoulders helplessly.

Intuitively, Amanda said: 'Caroline, you're not still hankering after that man?'

They both knew which man she meant.

Caroline forced a smile. 'I must get changed. John's coming home from university today and he's calling for me at six.'

Amanda frowned. She was well aware of Caroline's nervous disposition. With a determined stiffening of her shoulders she said:

'Caroline, you haven't answered my question.'

'No. So I haven't,' remarked Caroline shortly, and walked away into the bedroom.

While Caroline was washing at the basin Amanda lit a cigarette and paced restlessly round the living- room and then she walked to the door of the bedroom. She was worried about Caroline. It was obvious that her inheritance meant less than nothing to her compared with something else, Adam Steinbeck.

'Tell me,' Amanda said suddenly, 'this "John" you're going out with; who is he? What does he do?'

'I told you, he's at Radbury University,' replied Caroline, wriggling into a slim-fitting jersey dress of a creamy colour which toned with her skin and silvery hair.

'I know you did,' persisted Amanda. 'But where does he come from? What's his surname? What do his parents do?'

'Such a lot of questions,' exclaimed Caroline lightly, but a hot flush stained her cheeks, belying her attempt at banter. 'His mother is dead.'

Amanda suddenly felt something go click inside her. All the little things that Caroline had merely hinted at during the past few months fell into place. Her failure to tell Amanda his surname; their chance meeting when Caroline had never done such a thing before; the expensive sports car; the visit to Paris; and finally his mother being dead.

'Is his name Steinbeck, by any chance?' said Amanda.

Caroline swung round, her hairbrush in her hand, and her face gave Amanda her answer.

'Yes,' she said with a sigh. 'I'm quite glad you know at last. I've wanted to tell you often enough, goodness knows.'

Amanda shook her head in a bewildered fashion. 'What are you playing at, Caroline?' she cried. 'Is this some obscure way of playing off his father? Or are you genuinely interested in him? In view of your reactions to Adam Steinbeck's name I should say the former is probably the case.'

Caroline shivered. 'It's not really either of your conclusions,' she explained, brushing her hair slowly. 'I like John, I'm not having revenge on Adam, but I don't really understand myself why I'm going out with him.'

Amanda snorted angrily, 'Caroline, are you making use of this boy? Pretending he's Adam, simply because he's that man's son?'

'No.' The word was torn from Caroline, and bright tears sparkled in her eyes. 'I really do like him, Amanda. He's kind and sweet. . .and oh, God, I've got to have somebody.'

Amanda sighed heavily. Caroline was too strung up to care what she said. 'And John,' she continued relentlessly. 'Does he just
like
you?'

'No.' Caroline replaced the hairbrush on the dressing table. 'He says he's in love with me.'

'I thought as much,' sighed Amanda. 'Caroline, can't you see, you're only hurting yourself more by persisting with this. Find yourself a new boy-friend. One who has no connections with the Steinbeck family. Now you've got the money you can meet all kinds of people.'

'No.' Caroline was adamant. 'As long as John is satisfied, I'm all right.'

Amanda flung the end of her cigarette into the hearth. 'And what's to be the outcome? Has he asked you to marry him?'