secretarial course?’ echoed Loren faintly. ‘Why can’t she take this course in Dublin or somewhere?’ Her eyes flashed with impatience.
Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘But it’s ludicrous!’ Loren shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Saddling you with a teenage girl! What is your mother thinking of?’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘She knows about—me—doesn’t she?’
‘My mother? Of course.’
Loren nodded her head vigorously. ‘I thought so. That’s it, of course.’
Adam sighed. ‘What is “it"?’
‘She’s sending this girl here to spy upon us.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous!’ Adam raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’m not a child, Loren. I am over thirty, you know.’
‘I know, darling, but until your mother married again, you were her little ewe-lamb, weren’t you?’
‘Loren, don’t talk such tripe! If she’s sending Maria to London, it must be because Maria wants to come.’
‘But why should she want to come?’
‘How the hell should I know?’ Adam strode across to the window. ‘What would you have me say? I’m sorry, but she can’t come. My—my mistress would object?’
Loren uttered a furious gasp. ‘You—you—’
‘Oh, save it!’ exclaimed Adam, turning round. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Nevertheless, it’s true. She is my stepsister, after all, and I don’t see much of her. As I recall she was a nice kid. At least she didn’t throw any tantrums when her father married my mother, and I know my mother found it easier because of her understanding. Girls of ten can be pretty difficult at times.’
Loren’s lips thinned. ‘And exactly where is she to live?’
Adam frowned. ‘At the house, I guess.’
‘At your house? In Kensington?’
‘I guess so, why?’
‘Isn’t that a little unorthodox?’
‘In this day and age! You must be joking?’
‘Nevertheless, you are—a—bachelor, you live alone—’
‘I have Mrs Lacey. She lives in.’
‘A housekeeper!’ Loren’s voice was scornful.
Adam regarded her broodingly. ‘All right then, marry me and provide a chaperon!’
Loren looked at him impatiently. ‘What? And live in that urban backwater? No, thank you, Adam.’ She drew deeply on her cigarette.
Adam shrugged and after regarding her for several minutes more, walked swiftly towards the door.
‘No! Wait!’ Loren gathered herself and ran after him, grasping his arm and dragging him round to look at her. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I’m sorry. That was a terrible way to put it. But honestly, we’ve had this out before, I just couldn’t go on like that!’
‘I know.’ Adam’s features were taut.
‘But it’s so unnecessary anyway,’ she cried. ‘You know Matthew Harding would be overjoyed if you joined his staff!’
Adam’s face became sardonic. ‘I’ve told you before, Loren, I don’t practise that kind of medicine!’
‘How many kinds are there?’ she protested.
He lifted his shoulders rather wearily. ‘I prefer my kind,’ he replied dryly.
‘You prefer visiting that ghastly East End clinic to me, I suppose!’ Loren bit furiously at her lips.
‘You know that’s not true,’ he returned quietly, ‘nevertheless, I will not give up my work—even for you. And nor will I join some plushy West End practitioner who spends his time dispensing psychology to over-fed, over-indulged, and over-anxious hypochondriacs!’
Loren thrust herself away from him. ‘Being ill isn’t the prerogative of the poor, you know,’ she said bitterly.
Adam regarded her sombrely. ‘No, I agree,’ he said calmly. ‘I suppose I meet just as many hypochondriacs in my work as anyone else. However, the percentage of my patients who feign illness has to be less when I consider how many patients I see a day compared to old Harding.’
‘Mr Harding is a friend of mine.’
‘I know that.’
‘He thinks he’s a friend of yours, too.’
‘Did I say he wasn’t?’
‘No, but—oh, you’re impossible.’ Loren heaved a sigh. ‘Why couldn’t you be like everybody else? Why couldn’t you put yourself out for me, just for once? You know I love you, you know I want to marry you—’
‘But only on your terms, is that it?’ Adam opened the door. ‘I must go. I’ve got to go to St Michael’s before evening surgery.’
‘Why?’ Loren was curious in spite of herself.
‘There’s a patient there I’ve got to see.’ Adam was cool now.
‘A woman?’ Loren’s tone was guarded.
‘Yes.’
Loren tensed. ‘Is she more important to you than I am?’
‘Right now—yes.’
‘Sometimes I hate you, Adam Massey!’
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Adam gave her a slight smile before going out of the door.
‘Adam—wait—’ Again she flung herself across the room after him, only to find him in the hall talking to Alice. Alice was saying: ‘Did you find out how Mrs Ainsley was?’ and Adam was nodding and telling her that she had had her operation but that she was still very weak.
‘I’m going to see her now, actually,’ he said. ‘She has no one else.’
Alice smoothed her apron. ‘Do you think she would like me—I mean—’
‘I’m sure she would.’ Adam’s voice was gentle, and Loren compressed her lips, a sick feeling rising in her throat. She wanted him so much in that moment, and she knew he was completely indifferent to her right now. Assuming a casual tone, she said, mostly to Alice: ‘Who’s this you’re talking about?’
Alice turned to her. ‘Old Mrs Ainsley,’ she replied, frowning. ‘You know—I told you—she fell down the stairs a few days ago and injured herself internally.’
‘Oh!’ Loren’s
