Love (19 page)

As Morgan spoke Karen felt a
terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Morgan was saying things that she had warned herself of. But Adam always seemed totally straightforward and open with her.

Morgan
saw the uncertainty taking hold of Karen. The glow of happiness which had surrounded her when she arrived was fading rapidly. The seeds of doubt were growing.

“
I don’t know what Adam’s told you about us,” said Morgan. “About our relationship.”

“
He said that you’ve known each other for ages,” said Karen.

“
Yes, we have indeed. We were at university and shared a house. Then, when he wrote his first book, I became his editor. God, that seems so long ago. Things just went from there really. We’re like points of a compass. I stay home, he travels round, but we have this common bond.” Morgan laughed, “People are always saying that we’re like an old married couple.”

It was with mixed feelings that Karen heard the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel driveway outside.

“Ah, that must be Adam!” cried Morgan. “Don’t let on that I’ve been telling you his secrets. He’s such a private person. He doesn’t like the right hand knowing what the left is doing, sort of thing, you know?”

Karen said nothing. She
didn’t know what to think.

Adam came bouncing into the room.
“I’ve got the photos from the other day. You know the ones. They’re great, even if I do say so myself! I look particularly intellectual and glamorous. I’m sure if I use it on my back cover I’ll have bags of fan mail.”

“
Always so modest,” said Morgan. “Let’s look at these pictures of the new George Clooney,” she grabbed at the packet in his hand.

He held them above her head just out of her reach. Karen could see that, as Morgan had said, they knew each other
very well.

Adam extracted some of the photographs and handed them to Karen,
“These are the ones that you took for your painting.”

Morgan leaned over and said,
“Let me see, let me see!” She rifled through them, “Oh, they are good. You look quite distinguished, Adam.”

“T
old you so,” he replied. “I see I’ve missed tea. Though if Morgan made it, I don’t mind. I’m absolutely parched. I think I’ll make some coffee. Would anyone like some?”

“
Ooops,” said Morgan. “I nearly forgot. Adam, David rang. He phoned literally just as you left. I shouted but you had already driven off. He said could you possibly be in the office first thing tomorrow morning. The contracts have arrived and he wants to turn them around right away. Anyway, you’d better call him straight back. I promised you would.”

“
Hell, that means we’ll have to drive back tonight. I planned to go tomorrow morning,” he cursed again under his breath. “I’ll call him from the phone in the study. Be right back.”

Morgan fussed around
clearing up cups, leaving Karen to sit mournfully staring into the fire. She wondered whether she should leave now before Adam came back but she decided she had done enough running away from problems. She still clung to her belief in him.

Adam came back fuming,
“Well that’s the last thing I felt like doing tonight - driving back to London in the dark.” He sat down next to Karen on the sofa, “I thought we’d have a bit more time than this. At least a last walk tomorrow morning but it’s not to be.”

“
You’re very quiet,” he said to Karen when she didn’t reply. “Are you OK?”

Just then, Morgan came downstairs from the kitchen, preventing any more intimate conversation.
“All settled then?” she queried. “We’ve still got a little more editorial business to decide. Shall we eat dinner on the road? There’s that rather nice French restaurant near Plymouth.”

“
I don’t care where we eat,” said Adam impatiently. “I suppose I should sort the chapters out. I’ll take you home first, Karen. See you in a sec, Morgan.”

Adam fetched
Karen’s coat and helped her into it. As they left the house he put an arm around her shoulders and said, “Sorry about this. I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

Karen felt sick. It was as though she were having a relapse except she knew the causes weren’t physical. It only felt that way, the symptoms were just as real. She wished she could pluck up the courage to ask him whether she was just another one of his charity cases. This was neither the time nor the place. Adam clearly had far too many things on his mind. She half expected Adam to rush off as soon as they reached the cottage but he didn’t. He followed her in and sat down at the kitchen table.

“
Are you going to tell me what the matter is, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” Adam teased her.

Karen hesitated.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“
Are you in a relationship with Morgan?” she asked. There, she had said it. It was out.

“
Is that all that’s worrying you? Of course I have a relationship with Morgan but I am not in one. I told you, we go way back. You know this already. You must have friends from school or college yourself, so you know what I’m talking about. Don’t worry about any of this, just get on with your painting. Come over here and give me a kiss.” He patted his lap.

Karen did not feel like going over and sitting on his lap. Her feelings were just too confused. She needed time to think and sort them out.

“If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you,” he said standing up.

He pulled her towards him
, bent his head and covered her reluctant lips with his. Under the soft insistent pressure of his warm mouth Karen felt her defences crumbling as once again her senses took control.

His hand slipped under the ribbed hem of her polo neck and found the catch on her bra. With one movement he had undone the hook and he pushed both hands up under her jersey to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples tauten under his touch. He groaned and raised the soft fabric up to reveal her soft flesh. He licked each tight pink bud in turn. Karen
’s hands reached under Adam’s shirt to the small of his back.

He sighed deeply.
“If we don’t stop now I’ll never be able to leave you.” He kissed her again gently.

She straightened her jumper and followed him to the front door.

“Remember, Karen, don’t worry. Trust me. I’ll come for you at your show. Good bye for now.”

Karen watched him walk away
. Her eyes filled with tears. She felt he was leaving forever, as though a part of her had been ripped away. The thought of the next few weeks in the cottage without any hope of seeing him filled her with depression. He, at least, would be busy travelling. How much harder it was to be the one staying at home, waiting.

She watched him until he disappeared beyond the gate and then she closed the door. She sat down at the kitchen table and was overwhelmed wi
th misery. She wondered how she would paint again. Memories of Morgan’s pointed insinuations flooded her brain. Perhaps she was just one in a long line of lame ducks that Adam had helped along the way. This relationship with the Chinese girl, which Morgan seemed to know so much about, made Karen feel sick to her stomach.

Even now, he was going off into the night with Morgan herself and no doubt she would be
flying over to the States whenever she felt the urge, business or no business. She could probably find something to do in the States if she put her mind to it, after all she seemed to come down here whenever she felt like it.

Karen remembered the
photographs of Adam and got them out of her jacket pocket. He was right, they were good. She arranged them in a row on the table in front of her. Together with her preliminary sketches she could use them for a portrait. Her contemplation of Adam was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Oh no! She hoped it wasn’t sleazy Nick phoning on some pretext. She didn’t feel strong enough to cope with him. She picked up the receiver with some trepidation.

“
Hello,” she said.

“
Hello, Karen. I thought you must be out.”

Karen breathed a sigh of relief. It was her grandmother.
“Hello, Gran. Thank goodness it’s you.”

“D
ear me!” said her grandmother. “You sound a little distraught. What’s been going on? Nothing wrong with Humphrey is there? Are you all right?”

“
No, Humphrey’s fine, Gran. Don’t worry. I thought you might be Nick Farmer, the estate agent. He’s a bit of a pest.”

“
Oh, him. Yes, he’s tedious but harmless enough. He needs a firm hand. Now, I just wanted to confirm that I’ll be back mid-February as planned. I’m feeling so much better. Has Adam been looking after you well?”

Karen thought, only too well. But she didn
’t say it aloud. “Yes, he’s leaving tonight. He’s going back to London and then he’s off to the States for several months.”

“
Aah,” said her grandmother. “And is this the reason for the sadness I hear in your voice?”

Her grandmother had always been very perceptive and Karen had never been able to hide anything from her.

“Yes, but that’s not the only problem. Oh, I don’t know, Gran. I just don’t know where I stand with him. Or what to think. He says one thing and that friend of his, Morgan, says another. I don’t know who to believe.”

“
Well, I think I’d put my money on Adam, my dear. I have always found him to be completely straightforward and trustworthy. If he has made you some promise then you can be sure he will keep it. Haven’t you got a show coming up pretty soon? I should worry about that for now darling.”

Karen sent her love to her various Australian relatives and promised to be at the station with Humphrey on the fourteenth. She put the phone down, not entirely convinced by her grandmother. Adam was the sort of person people did believe and trust. Still, she was filled with resolve to put him out of her min
d and get on with her life and work on her art as hard as possible.

She sat down at the kitchen table again and looked at the photographs. Yes, she began to see the possibilities. Her mother had always maintained that there was no better cure for depression than
hard work. Although her mother usually advocated scrubbing the kitchen floor or vigorous vacuuming, painting was the answer for Karen. She gathered up the photographs and called Humphrey. She was soon hard at work in the studio above the garage blocking in a portrait of Adam. She worked late into the night and saw the headlights of a car leaving Adam’s house which then went into darkness. A shadow had fallen on her life, he was gone.

The morning of Karen’s show dawned at last. It had been a long time coming. The months had seemed endless in one sense and yet as she painted furiously it seemed that there wasn’t enough time to do the paintings she wanted to.

Those last few weeks in Cornwall h
ad been the hardest of all. In a short time she’d become used to Adam’s presence there and everywhere she went reminded her of him. The weather, as if to mirror her mood, had taken a turn for the worse. The cottage had been constantly whipped by storm force gales and except for brief walks she and Humphrey had been isolated for almost a week.

Karen finished the portrait of Adam that week. She had to wear a coat and gloves to paint in as the wind whistled through the studio and the rain lashed at
the windows. Humphrey loyally accompanied her and she had to give him a hot water bottle to keep the little dog warm. She lived on basic meals and hastily prepared sandwiches and hot drinks. Each day brought a growing sense of achievement, the painting seemed to come from her very soul. She thought it was the best thing she’d ever done.

Karen
hadn’t been as delighted as she’d originally anticipated when the fourteenth of February rolled round. She’d miss the clean clear air and the little dog who had become such a part of her life. Ironically, the last week had seen an early spring come to this warmest part of England. She had been constantly enchanted as buds of palest green burst forth. Daffodils and narcissi scented the lawn. The sky was full of whirling birds, searching for nesting sites.

She and Humphrey
were at the station on the fourteenth, as promised, to meet her grandmother. Here she was on Valentine’s Day, Karen thought, engaged to be married, supposedly, and not a card or bunch of flowers in sight. Humphrey, however, was excited. It was as though he knew something important was up. It might have been the vigorous spring clean Mrs Maybury had done on the whole cottage. Even the garden had not escaped her attentions as she pushed the old hand mower vigorously up and down the lawn, putting Karen to shame. Bushes and hedges had been clipped and all dead wood and leaves removed and burned in a huge smoky bonfire. Karen coudn’t help but giggle as she watched the Pengellys rush out to remove their washing from the line. Their own fires were so notoriously noxious.

Her grandmother
was clearly glad to be home and Humphrey’s delight at having his owner back knew no bounds. Karen stayed overnight to help her grandmother settle back in. There was really no need, as there was a constant stream of friends and neighbours popping by to welcome her back. She hadn’t planned to show the portrait of Adam to her grandmother. It seemed too intimate, almost part of her being. She hadn’t been ready to reveal it. But she didn’t remember how early Gran rose in the mornings and when Gran said at breakfast that the portrait was the finest thing Karen had ever done, she was pleased but somewhat embarrassed.