Caroline. Anne Mather

at all surprised at this turn of events he did not show it and although the sight of Caroline in her rather shabby duffel coat could not have been a usual one his face remained impassive. After he had gone Caroline looked curiously at her companion. Who on earth could he be, to run a Rolls and a chauffeur? He must only be a director, she decided nervously, and bit hard at her lip.

      Adam smiled at her obvious discomfiture. ‘Don’t look so perturbed,’ he remarked lazily. ‘The car belongs to me, I can assure you.’

      Caroline flushed. ‘I don’t doubt that,’ she replied, sighing and allowed him to assist her into the seat beside the driver. After closing her door firmly, he walked round the bonnet and slid in beside her. He looked perfectly at ease and she thought rather wistfully that he fitted the car. Both were well groomed and immaculate.

      ‘And now,’ he said, before she had any time to ask questions, ‘where am I to take you?’

      Caroline told him her address and wondered whether when they arrived he would expect to be invited in. She hoped not. The old building was hardly the sort of background she would have chosen.

      Their route through some unknown side streets brought them to Gloucester Court in a very short time. As they had avoided the main roads the traffic had been much lighter and although Caroline was sure she would have got lost in the fog, it was obvious that this man knew London very well. The big car looked out of place in the small court and Caroline hoped Amanda was not looking out of the window. They had spoken little on the journey and when the car halted Caroline made to get out as quickly as she could.

      ‘Just a moment,’ he muttered easily. ‘How long will you be?’

      Caroline’s eyes widened. ‘Not long,’ she exclaimed guardedly.

      ‘Then I’ll wait,’ he said surprisingly, and took out a case of cigars.

      Caroline was astounded, but with a hasty ‘Thank you’ she sprang out, carefully closed the door and ran inside the building.

      The flat was on the first floor and soon she was unlocking the door and going in. A glance at her watch told her it was barely twelve-forty-five. Only a quarter of her hour had gone already.

      Amanda was still in bed, breathing nasally. ‘Is that you, Caroline?’ she called feebly.

      ‘Who were you expecting?’ replied Caroline cheerfully. ‘Now then, how do you feel?’ She came to the bedroom door.

      ‘I’m bearing up,’ answered Amanda with a forced smile. ‘You’re nice and early. Could I have some soup, do you think? I feel quite hungry now.’

      ‘Of course,’ said Caroline, pulling off her mitts. ‘That’s a good sign.’ She hurried into the kitchen and filled the kettle before opening the tin of beef broth.

      When the kettle had boiled she refilled Amanda’s hot water bottle again and made some more tea. She put ten pence in the electric meter, ensuring that the fire would remain on, and put the soup in a saucepan to heat up.

      ‘Did you get into trouble this morning?’ asked Amanda thickly, as Caroline set a tray of steaming soup, toast, and tea in front of her.

      ‘Well, I’m still on the payroll,’ replied Caroline, evading the question. She didn’t want Amanda worrying about her and as for telling her about accepting a lift from a stranger! Well! She just couldn’t do it. Amanda would think she was the village idiot; after all, she knew nothing about him at all.

      After making Amanda comfortable, she put on her mitts again.

      ‘I must go,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t want to be late again.’

      Amanda’s eyes widened. ‘But, Caroline, it’s only one o’clock and you’ve had nothing yourself.’

      ‘Oh, I’m not hungry,’ lied Caroline blithely, aware of feeling particularly empty. ‘Anyway, I can get a sandwich from the canteen when I get back.’

      ‘Oh, all right, pet. Thanks for everything, and mind how you go. Let’s hope I’m feeling better by tonight. I have a date with Ron.’

      Ron Cartwright was her current boy-friend. A cub-reporter for the Daily Southerner who imagined himself the editor, was Caroline’s private opinion.

      ‘Well, you won’t be going out,’ stated Caroline indignantly. ‘It’s absolutely freezing out there, and it’s so damp and foggy.’

      Amanda shivered and sipped her soup appreciatively. ‘All right, all right, it was only a thought.’

      ‘Well, forget it,’ ordered Caroline with a smile. ‘I must go now.’ She walked to the door. ‘See you about five-thirty, I expect.’

      ‘Okay, don’t get lost.’

      Caroline ran down the stairs again and out into the street. The cold atmosphere was numbing and feeling very nervous she approached the car. It had been turned in her absence and as she neared it the man pushed open the door from inside. She slid in beside him, into a world of luxurious comfort, warm air and the delicious scent of Havana tobacco.

      ‘Good,’ he said as she slammed the door. ‘Do I take it you have executed your business?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ Caroline was subdued.

      ‘Sir?’ He frowned. ‘Why are you calling me that?’

      Caroline shrugged. ‘Well, you must be somebody important with a car like this,’ she replied carefully. ‘I don’t know who you are, and if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem awfully keen to tell me. Are you married and afraid your wife finds out? Oh, I hope that doesn’t sound rude.’

      He smiled slightly. ‘I am not married,’ he stated firmly, ‘and you can call me Adam. Does that satisfy you?’

      Caroline flushed scarlet. ‘Yes, sir…I mean Adam,’ she answered, feeling rather foolish.

      He started the car and they moved away from the kerb. However, once they had joined the main stream of traffic he took the opposite turning to the proper one and Caroline realised they were not going in the direction of the Steinbeck Building.

      ‘Wh…where are you taking me?’ she enquired, trying to keep her voice calm when suddenly it felt very shaky.

      ‘To a roadhouse I know near Kingston,’ he replied easily. ‘I gather you haven’t eaten yet, so over a meal you can tell me all your troubles.’

      Caroline gasped. ‘But I’m due at the office in twenty minutes,’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, please, take me back.’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he murmured, quite amused at her expression. ‘I’ll speak to Miss Morgan myself. Relax.’

      Caroline’s tensed body suddenly went weak. What could she do now? She had been stupid and she was now paying the penalty. He could do what he liked with her! Take her where he liked, for that matter! It was her own fault for trusting him. She looked desperately out of the window and wondered whether, if she shouted for help, anyone would take any notice. Driving in a car like this the odds were decidedly against it.

      She was most astonished therefore, when a short while later, the powerful car turned between the wrought iron gates of a driveway and drew up outside the imposing façade of a country house with ‘The Copper Kettle’ printed on a sign which hung over the doorway.

      Adam slid out and walked round the bonnet to assist Caroline to alight. She forestalled him, however, and with a smile he slammed her door and locked it.

      ‘Did you think I was kidnapping you?’ he asked in her ear, as he drew her through the entrance and into the wide hallway.

      ‘That thought had crossed my mind,’ she admitted with a smile, which she suddenly couldn’t control.

      At their entrance a waiter appeared immediately and greeted them. ‘Your usual table, Mr Steinbeck?’ he asked politely, his sophisticated eyes taking in the blue duffel coat that