Caroline

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 Caroline was wearing and finding it sadly lacking.

‘Yes, thank you, André,’ replied Adam, and urged Caroline forward. But Caroline had been arrested by the man’s words.

‘Steinbeck,’ she whispered in an awed voice. ‘Oh, glory!’

The restaurant was quite full, but a table near the window was awaiting them. Andre saw them comfortably seated and then produced the menu with a flourish. All the diners looked with surprise at Caroline. The women were all wearing expensive furs; minks and sables; and the men were as immaculately groomed as Caroline’s companion.

Quite a number of people had greeted Adam, and Caroline, now aware of his identity, felt awkward and out of place. She wished that he had not turned out to be so important a person. Had he been just an ordinary person like herself he might have seriously become interested in her, but now that she knew who he was she was convinced that any interest he had in her must be simply curiosity. She ought to have realised the day she met him in the lift, by the impeccable cut of his clothes, that he was no ordinary office worker. It was fantastic to consider the difference in their positions and she sighed dejectedly.

Adam asked her if she had any preference regarding the food, but she shook her head and was glad when he said he would choose for her. What did she know about menus that were large enough to cover the table?

After he had ordered the meal the wine waiter appeared and there followed another discussion about the choice of wines. As an aperitif he ordered Martinis, and Caroline found herself with a glass in her hand and a cigarette between her fingers.

Looking about her, Caroline was extremely conscious of the limitations of her red pinafore dress and white jumper and was convinced she must be the topic of conversation of all these elegantly fashionable women. They must be wondering why such a man as Adam Steinbeck was giving her lunch when he was obviously much more accustomed to dining with the élite of society.

Her eyes returned to Adam as he smoked his cigarette and she saw wonderingly that his eyelashes were extremely long and thick. Combined with his dark skin, strong face and fathomless eyes, he was quite the most attractive man Caroline had ever seen. He had a kind of animal magnetism against which she felt herself to be completely defenceless.

Suddenly his eyes turned on her and caught her staring at him and she hastily drew on her cigarette and took a sip of her Martini. She choked in the process and had the ignominy of spluttering and coughing arousing the amused attention of the whole of the restaurant.

Adam, however, was not perturbed and said softly:

‘I suppose you ought not to be drinking that, ought you?’

Caroline flushed anew. ‘I’m almost eighteen,’ she exclaimed, feeling embarrassed.

‘Almost, but not quite,’ he remarked slowly. ‘However, in this instance, no one but ourselves is aware of the facts, so there need be no disgrace.’

Caroline, sure he was amusing himself by teasing her, put down her drink before she made any more mistakes.

‘Why didn’t you tell me immediately you were Adam Steinbeck?’ she said suddenly.