It had stopped at the third floor, but he made no attempt to open the gates.
‘Well, don’t you care?’ she asked, aware of a breathlessness about her.
‘Should I?’ he asked, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. ‘What I do is my own affair, surely. Are you sure it isn’t yourself who feels upset?’
‘Not at all,’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘Honestly, I quite enjoyed the feeling of being important for once.’
‘Then you do still want to have dinner with me, tomorrow?’
Caroline moved her shoulders in a helpless gesture. ‘Of course. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Good.’ Straightening up, he opened the gates and allowed her to pass through. ‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow as arranged.’ He smiled. ‘I trust you have no trouble with Miss Morgan.’
He pressed the button for his floor and the lift went on up. Sighing, Caroline walked along to the typing pool. It was three-thirty.
It really was amazing, thought Caroline later that same afternoon, how very charming Miss Morgan could be when it suited her. It had been obvious from the moment that Caroline entered the large office which reverberated with the sound of a score of machines that Vera Morgan had been forewarned of her delayed return from lunch. Caroline was asked politely whether she had enjoyed herself and then advised that the other girls would help her if she had not got time to finish her work herself.
But Caroline did not think it fair to delegate her work to the others who had plenty to do themselves, so she worked steadily all the rest of the afternoon, and by five o’clock she was almost up to date. Sufficiently so to inform Miss Morgan that she could manage on her own in the morning.
Miss Morgan was aware of an unwilling admiration for Caroline, upon hearing this. Many girls in her position, although what that position was she was not quite sure, would have taken advantage of the situation and purposely sat back and allowed their work to be done by the others. As it was, Caroline had contrived to do all her work herself and Miss Morgan was quite pleasantly surprised.
When Caroline arrived home she found Amanda up and dressed, but she looked very pale and wan.
‘You should have stayed in bed,’ exclaimed Caroline, sitting down to sausage and eggs prepared by Amanda. Actually, Caroline did not feel very hungry after her enormous lunch, but she made a show of enjoying the meal so as not to hurt Amanda’s feelings.
‘Oh, well,’ replied Amanda, having only one sausage herself and a slice of toast, ‘with Ron arriving at six-thirty I had to do something.’
Caroline snorted in disapproval. ‘You’re not going out,’ she stated flatly, and Amanda had to laugh.
‘All right, don’t fly off the handle,’ she answered, sighing. ‘I only wanted to look reasonably fit, that’s all. As it is I feel as though I’m dying on my feet.’
Caroline shook her head. As if she couldn’t have put Ron Cartwright off until another evening! She finished her tea and cleared away the dishes. While she washed up, Amanda re-did her face, heavily, disguising as best she could the hollows beneath her eyes and the greyish pallor of her skin. She still looked very drawn when Caroline came back in and she was about to tell her to get herself back to bed when the doorbell rang.
Caroline answered it and let in Ron Cartwright. As usual he looked cheekily pleased with himself, but he stopped dead at the sight of Amanda.
‘Blimey!’ he exclaimed, taking a step back. ‘Marley’s ghost!’
Amanda looked gloomily at Caroline. ‘Ha…ha,’ she said, with a forced smile.
‘Hey, really, doll,’ went on Ron, ‘you do look a sketch. What’s wrong?’
‘She’s got flu,’ said Caroline. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to catch it, do you?’ this last very pointedly.
Ron shrugged. ‘Well, there’s a thing,’ he commented, flinging himself on to the couch. ‘I guess the flicks is out for us, then.’
Caroline winced at his language and looked at Amanda with raised eyebrows. Amanda took the hint.
‘Yes. I’m going back to bed.’
‘I see,’ Ron turned his gaze speculatively on Caroline. ‘How about you and me taking in a show?’ he asked brightly.
Amanda gasped. ‘Don’t mind me!’ she snorted, and flounced into the bedroom slamming the door.
‘What’s bitten her?’ asked Ron blandly. ‘Well, Caroline? What about it?’
‘You must be joking,’ said Caroline, a look of distaste on her face.
Ron was undaunted. ‘You know I always fancied a date with you,’ he said, standing up. He tried to grasp her wrist playfully, but she twisted away from him.
‘Don’t you dare to touch me!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘You can leave just as soon as you like, Mr Cartwright!’
Ron shrugged, still confidently unabashed. ‘Okay, doll. I’m going. Nobody can say that Ron Cartwright forces his attentions where they’re not wanted. It’s not necessary, chum. I can date a dozen like you just as easily as that.’ He snapped his fingers in her face.
‘Then go and find one,’ retorted Caroline wearily. ‘Really, you overgrown approved-schoolboys appal me!’
That caught him on a sore spot, for he flung her a baleful glance before sauntering out.
Caroline closed the door after him and went into the bedroom to find Amanda. She was back in bed and surprisingly was smiling.
‘I heard,’ she said before Caroline could speak. ‘I guess we’ve seen the last of him.’
‘Well, honestly,’ exclaimed Caroline ruefully, ‘how you could become involved with anyone like him amazes me. He’s so boring.’
Amanda shrugged. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ she replied, sighing. ‘You may find out one day. Girls like you and me just don’t meet up with the cream of the male population.’
Caroline flushed scarlet. She had not told Amanda about her second meeting with Adam Steinbeck or their subsequent lunch together. She realised with a sense of shock that comparing Ron Cartwright with Adam was like comparing tomato juice with champagne.
Amanda had noticed her heightened colour, however, and said perceptively: ‘Have you seen that dreamboat from the lift again, by any chance?’
Caroline moved restlessly, now she had no choice but to tell Amanda.
‘As a matter of fact,’ she said casually, ‘I saw him at lunch time.’
‘Oh, really?’ Amanda’s eyes were huge. ‘How?’
‘Well, actually, I bumped into him outside the offices and when I told him I was rushing home he offered me a lift in his car.’
Amanda gasped. ‘Caroline Sinclair,’ she exclaimed accusingly. ‘You weren’t going to tell me this, were you?’
‘Of course,’ retorted Caroline. ‘I’ve not had the chance before. Anyway, he brought me home. That’s how I was so early.’
‘Indeed. Weren’t you being rather reckless? After all, you don’t know the man. Did you find out his name?’
Caroline hesitated. ‘Well, yes. He’s Adam Steinbeck.’ It came out with a rush and Amanda’s face was a picture, registering astonishment, incredulity and finally disbelief with lightning rapidity.
‘Are you serious?’ she gasped, a hand to her cheek. ‘The Adam Steinbeck?’
Caroline sighed, feeling slightly overawed herself. ‘Yes. It was a surprise to me too.’
‘Surprise?’ cried Amanda. ‘It’s nothing short of a miracle. No wonder