Living With Adam. Anne Mather

as they sat companionably at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, chatting, Mrs Lacey found out a little about Maria’s background and of her life in Kilcarney.

      After a while Maria skilfully changed the subject and said: ‘What time does Adam come home for lunch?’

      Mrs Lacey smiled and slipped off her stool, carrying her empty cup to the sink unit. ‘Oh, about one o’clock,’ she replied. ‘But he doesn’t always come home for lunch.’

      ‘Oh!’ Maria could scarcely hide her disappointment, and Mrs Lacey went on to say that when he wasn’t coming home he usually telephoned before eleven. ‘And has he phoned today?’ Maria couldn’t help asking.

      Mrs Lacey shook her head. ‘No, miss. He’ll be home. After all, afternoons are his only free time until the evening. He has quite a practice, he and Mr Hadley and Mr Vincent.’

      ‘Who are they?’

      ‘His partners.’

      ‘Oh, I see,’ Maria nodded. ‘And the practice is in Islington, is that right?’

      ‘Yes, miss.’

      ‘Where is that?’

      ‘It’s over towards the East End, beyond Camden Town, miss. Not a particularly nice area, but a big population.’

      Maria frowned. ‘The East End? My stepmother said there were a lot of slums there.’

      ‘So there are, and a lot of them are in Islington.’

      ‘But why don’t they do something about it?’

      ‘They are. Eventually all those old tenement buildings will be pulled down and there’ll be flats and things, miss. It’s just that it’s easier said than done.’

      ‘And Adam works there.’ Maria stared at Mrs Lacey. ‘Why?’

      Mrs Lacey folded her arms. ‘He knows that’s where he’s most needed, miss. Terrible place for illness, damp houses are. There are a lot of old people there, too. Live alone, a lot of them. Like this Mrs Ainsley, who’s in St Michael’s right now.’

      ‘Mrs Ainsley?’

      ‘Yes, she’s an old lady of about seventy. Lives alone, she does. Got this old dog, Minstrel. Anyway, last week she tripped at the top of the stairs and fell right down.’

      ‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ said Maria, pressing a hand to her throat. ‘Is—is she very badly injured?’

      ‘Well, she’s alive. But there were internal injuries, you know. Bleeding, she was, when they found her.’

      Maria shook her head. ‘And who found her?’

      ‘The doctor himself. He was used to calling on her, just for a visit. He used to say she needed someone. But anyway, she’s in the hospital now, and God knows when she’ll get out, poor soul.’

      Maria bit her lip. ‘Has she no family?’

      Mrs Lacey considered. ‘I don’t think so. Not in this country anyway. She did have a daughter, but she emigrated some time ago.’

      Maria sighed, cupping her chin on one hand. ‘I think I should like to work with people,’ she said. ‘It must be very rewarding, helping someone like that.’

      Mrs Lacey raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But I thought you’d come here to England to take a secretarial course at the commercial college?’

      Maria smiled. ‘I have. At least, that’s what Geraldine thought I would enjoy doing. But after listening to you, I’m not so sure. There must be hundreds of old people, like this Mrs Ainsley. Perhaps there are opportunities in that kind of social work—’

      Mrs Lacey looked anxious. ‘Now don’t you go getting all romantic about caring for people and sorting out their troubles,’ she said. ‘It’s not all that easy. You have to have the patience of Job.’

      Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose you’re right. Back home families are larger and usually someone is only too willing to care for the old folk. My grandmother is still alive, and lives in a cottage not far from my father. He wouldn’t dream of cutting her off by moving away.’

      Mrs Lacey sighed. ‘No, well, things are different here. People don’t have time to do everything they should do. They’re too busy trying to better their neighbours. They don’t realize that they’ll be old, too, one day.’

      Maria traced the pattern of the formica on the breakfast bar with an idle forefinger. ‘Still, I suppose so far as I’m concerned you’re right. But I can’t help feeling sorry for people.’

      Mrs Lacey’s expression softened. ‘Don’t be too vulnerable,’ she advised quietly. ‘There’s always someone ready and willing to take advantage of you.’

      Maria smiled, ‘That sounds very cynical.’

      ‘Perhaps I am, at that.’ Mrs Lacey shrugged. ‘Working here as Mr Adam’s housekeeper, I see quite a lot of hardship, but not everybody deserves the help they’re given. You go and take your office course, like you planned. That way you’ll keep out of mischief.’

      Maria looked indignant. ‘I can take care of myself.’

      Mrs Lacey looked sceptical. ‘Can you? I’m not so sure. Not here, anyway. London’s not all Changing the Guard and Buckingham Palace, you know.’

      ‘And I’m not still wet behind the ears,’ replied Maria shortly.

      ‘Nobody said you were. But just by having you here, Mr Adam’s letting himself in for a lot of extra responsibility, and he works hard enough as it is.’

      Maria sighed and slid off her stool. She had had enough of this conversation. She remembered her suitcases, still not unpacked, upstairs. She could go and deal with them before lunch, and possibly find something different to wear. Something Adam might not find so objectionable.

      But even as she was about to mention her plans to Mrs Lacey the front door bell rang, and Mrs Lacey sighed in annoyance. ‘Oh, will you go and answer that?’ she asked of Maria. ‘My hands are wet. If it’s someone for the doctor you’ll have to ask them to come back later.’

      ‘All right.’ Maria nodded and walked out into the hall. Smoothing her hair, she opened the door and stared in some surprise at the woman who was tapping her foot impatiently as she waited outside. Somehow she had not expected to find anyone so decorative on Adam’s door-step, and this woman was most certainly that. Small, and delicately proportioned, with silky golden hair bound into a coronet on top of her head, she was quite beautiful, but her expression as she stared appraisingly at Maria was not pleasant.

      ‘Yes?’ Maria looked at her expectantly. ‘Can I help you?’

      The woman glanced back down Adam’s drive, and now Maria noticed a chauffeur-driven limousine at the gates. The woman looked again at her and said: ‘You must be Maria. Adam’s told me about you.’

      Maria managed a faint smile. ‘Oh, yes. Er—won’t you come in?’ She felt obliged to invite the woman in, for she was obviously no ordinary patient of Adam’s.

      The woman’s lips parted in a semblance of a smile and she stepped into the hall. Her entry brought Mrs Lacey to the kitchen door and when she saw who the visitor was she wiped her hands on her apron and came through.

      ‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Griffiths,’ she said politely. ‘I’m afraid you’re too early for Mr Adam.’

      Loren drew off her pearl grey gloves. ‘But I didn’t come primarily to see Adam,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I wanted to—meet—Maria.’

      ‘I see.’ Mrs Lacey glanced doubtfully at the girl. ‘And does Mr Adam know you’re here, miss?’

      Loren raised her dark eyebrows. ‘I hardly think so. Does it matter?’ Her voice was cool. ‘I’m sure he won’t object, Mrs Lacey.’ She regarded the older