Living With Adam. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ His gaze was coolly sardonic, and she cursed herself for her jealousy. Then she said quickly: ‘I—I will see you tonight, won’t I, Adam?’

      Adam lifted his shoulders. ‘I suppose so,’ he replied emotionlessly. Then they heard sounds from above and presently several men appeared at the top of the stairs and began coming down, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Adam gave Loren a wry glance, and then said: ‘I’ve got to go. See you later. I’ll tell Mrs Ainsley you might call, shall I, Alice?’

      Alice nodded, and accompanied him to the door while Loren was forced to go and meet the members of the press who were about to take their leave. She looked appealingly after Adam, but he did not look back, and with determination she raised a smile and tried to forget the frustration that was tearing her apart.

      Outside, Adam slid into his car, not without some relief. Sometimes he wished he had never become involved with Loren Griffiths, but mostly he acknowledged that he enjoyed their association. It was only at times like this when she taunted him about his practice that he realized how differently they viewed life. Fate had chosen that their paths should cross, but, continuing in its pattern, had separated them again. He still recalled with clarity the day her sleek Bentley had collided with his rather practical Rover, and of how apologetic she had been in her attempts to charm and tantalize him out of his reasonable annoyance. She had been at fault, of course, but he was only human after all, and Loren Griffiths was already a household name to theatregoers. He supposed he had been flattered at her attentions, unaware of his own attraction which lay not in the lean strength of his body, or in the rather harsh lines of his face, but rather in the disturbing depths of his eyes which were so dark a grey as to appear black in some lights. In any event, Loren found him extremely attractive, and his brusque manner was at once a change and a pleasure after constant adulation. She had never known a doctor before, at least not a young one, and his lack of deference was refreshing. In no time she had wanted to further his career, seeing herself as Loren Griffiths, the actress, wife of Adam Massey, the famous Harley Street specialist. But unfortunately she had reckoned without Adam’s strength of will, and all her attempts to change him had failed abysmally. He was a realist, and he wanted to use his knowledge where it was most needed, not in the furtherance of his own ambitions, but in helping people whom he considered deserved a better deal from life.

      Now he heaved a sigh and set the car in motion. As well as visiting Mrs Ainsley, he had other wheels to set rolling, for although he had not mentioned it to Loren while she was so angry, his mother had really left him little choice in the matter of Maria. He knew, of course, that there might be some truth in what Loren had said regarding his mother’s reactions to their relationship. His mother disliked such an association and considered that her son deserved someone more suited to the position of doctor’s wife than an actress who in her estimation relied as much on her looks as on her talent. But since her marriage to Patrick Sheridan she had had little opportunity to use her influence with her son. And as Patrick’s home was in southern Ireland, she visited London only rarely. Her greatest disappointment, Adam knew, was that he did not visit Kilcarney more often. As he had told Loren, it was five years since he had visited his stepfather’s house, and although his mother had visited London two or three times since she had been alone and unable to stay for more than a few days. Her new husband was a farmer, and owned a large spread some miles from Limerick, and consequently he was seldom able to leave it. Adam smiled as he recalled how different his mother’s life was now from when she had been married to his father, who had owned a garage in Richmond. He thought she had settled down to life in Ireland very well, but eight years ago when she had told him she was accepting Patrick’s proposal, Adam had been immersed in his medical studies and consequently he had not taken the trouble to get to know his stepfather’s family particularly well. So long as his mother was happy, which she obviously was, he had been content, and only now did he wonder whether this was her way of attempting to re-establish a relationship with him. Even so, her letter had been unexpected, and he was still unsure as to how to answer it. He supposed he could refuse outright, but what excuse could he offer? His mother knew Mrs Lacey and trusted her implicitly, so he could not use his bachelor status as a reason for not accepting a teenage girl into his household. And in any case, it was only for six months, which would soon pass, and perhaps Maria herself might tire of the course long before that time was up.

      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 СКАЧАТЬ