he had been aloof and non-committal, asking the usual polite questions about their parents, but seemingly disinterested in herself. Of course, the call to Kilcarney had annoyed him, but that was only to be expected. Then he had disappeared to take evening surgery at his clinic which Mrs Lacey had told her was in the East End of London, Maria couldn’t remember the name, and later when she had expected him back the housekeeper had informed her that he was dining out. Altogether it had been a most unsatisfactory evening, and she determined to change that today.
Now, dressed in close-fitting denim pants in a rather vivid shade of purple and a cream shirt that reached her hips and was belted at the waist, her straight hair swinging to her shoulders, she descended the staircase to the hall below. She wore no make-up, but her skin was naturally smooth anyway.
She hesitated in the hall, looking about her with interest. The carpet here, as on the stairs, was patterned in blues and greens, while all the doors were panelled in a light wood. There was a polished chest on which reposed a vase of tulips and narcissi, and their pale colours looked well against the darker wood.
As she stood there, speculating as to whether Adam breakfasted in the same room as she had dined the night before, Mrs Lacey emerged from the kitchen to regard her with some trepidation.
‘Oh—you’re up, miss,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I—er—I was about to bring you up a tray. The doctor said you might be tired after your journey.’
Maria smiled charmingly. ‘I’m not tired, Mrs Lacey,’ she averred firmly, shaking her head. ‘I feel marvellous!’ She stretched her arms unselfconsciously above her head. ‘Tell me, Mrs Lacey, where is Adam?’
Mrs Lacey tried to hide her disapproval. She was obviously very much aware of the purple trousers, and Maria, sensing this, hid a smile. ‘Mr Adam is just finishing his breakfast, miss. In…in here.’
She moved forward to thrust open the door of the dining-room where Maria had eaten her solitary meal the evening before, and Maria nodded her thanks and entered the room quietly.
Adam was engrossed in his morning newspaper, and with his back to the door barely noticed anyone’s entrance. Obviously, he might expect Mrs Lacey to return to ascertain he had everything he needed, but no one else. Dressed in a dark suit, his linen immaculately white against the darker skin of his neck, Maria thought he looked very cool, and very dark and very businesslike, and a feeling of excitement rippled through her. With her usual lack of inhibition, she walked across the carpeted floor to him and bending, slid her arms round his neck from behind, kissing him warmly against the side of his neck as she sometimes did her father.
Adam jerked out of her grasp in a jack-knife movement to get to his feet and stare at her angrily. ‘Maria!’ he snapped shortly, thrusting his paper to one side and raking one hand through his thick hair.
She smiled enchantingly. ‘Good morning, Adam,’ she said, taking the vacant seat to one side of the chair he had been occupying. ‘I’m sorry I’m late for breakfast.’
Adam seemed to gather his composure, and breathing heavily, considered her impatiently. ‘You’re not late,’ he replied bleakly. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to rise this early. But I have to be away to the surgery by eight-thirty.’
Maria shrugged and reaching for the coffee pot poured herself a cup of coffee with the ease of one used to the practice, and Adam felt the rising sense of frustration he had felt at her attitude the previous evening. ‘But I want to get up this early,’ she said, sipping her coffee. ‘Besides, it will be nice for you having company for a change. Your mother said she always breakfasted with you.’
‘That’s a little different,’ returned Adam dryly, lifting his coffee cup and finishing its contents with a gulp.
Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t see why it should be. I am your sister, after all.’
‘My stepsister!’ Adam corrected her harshly.
‘That’s splitting hairs!’ she observed lightly. ‘That’s your mother’s expression, by the way.’ She chuckled. ‘Hm, this coffee is quite good, but—ugh—do you eat a fried breakfast?’
Adam controlled his annoyance. ‘That’s my business.’
Maria shrugged. ‘I suppose it is. Do you think Mrs Lacey will expect me to do the same?’
‘Perhaps you should ask her that.’ Adam was abrupt.
Maria sighed and regarded him resignedly. ‘Aren’t you going to sit down again, Adam?’
Adam made a point of looking at his wrist watch. ‘I don’t have time,’ he replied, without any trace of apology in his voice.
Maria sighed again, more pronouncedly, and said: ‘Oh, well, I’ll just have some coffee, and I’ll be with you.’
Adam had turned away to examine some papers in his briefcase, but he turned at her words to regard her uncomprehendingly. ‘What do you mean?’
Maria poured more coffee into her cup. ‘I want to come with you this morning—to your surgery, I mean. I want to see where you work, and I might even be able to help you.’
Adam was astounded. ‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, Maria. I have a very adequate receptionist to deal with my affairs. You must entertain yourself as best you can.’
Maria’s cup clattered into its saucer. ‘But I want to come with you, Adam.’
‘Well, you can’t.’ Adam shook his head. ‘And I should change those clothes before you go anywhere, if I were you.’
‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’ Maria got to her feet slowly.
‘If you don’t know then I don’t have the time to tell you,’ retorted Adam, rather cruelly.
Maria clenched her fists. ‘You’re just like my father!’ she exclaimed angrily. She compressed her lips for a moment, and then an unwilling smile lifted their corners. ‘I know you’re only trying to annoy me!’ she said. ‘Maybe you expect me to say I won’t come with you, is that it?’
Adam gave her an exasperated look, and then turned and walked out into the hall, almost bumping into Mrs Lacey as she came to see what Maria wanted to eat. But to her surprise, Maria herself followed Adam into the hall, and lifted the orange anorak from its place in the hall closet.
Adam, who had pulled on a sheepskin car coat over his suit, turned to regard her impatiently. ‘You can’t come, Maria,’ he said firmly, his voice cold. ‘I’m sorry, but my surgery is no place for a—a—girl like you.’ He had been about to say child, but thought better of it.
Maria’s eyes mirrored their hurt, and he studied her for a long moment before saying: ‘I’m sorry,’ again, and turning, he walked to the front door. The door slammed behind him and Maria wrinkled her nose to hide the disappointment she was feeling. Then she tugged off her anorak and threw it back into the closet, not bothering to pick it up when it fell on to the floor, and Mrs Lacey hurried forward and lifted it herself, feeling an unwilling sense of compassion for the girl.
Maria walked moodily back into the dining-room, her hands thrust deep into the hip pockets of her trousers, and wondered with a bleak sense of isolation whether she had done the right thing by coming here.
Then
