The Look of Love (23 page)

“Welcome to my
home!” he said with a flourish.

Chrissy got out
of the car. “Why do I feel like a fly?” she said to Adam.

Adam laughed.
He walked her up to the house, his hand on her back. “There are no
spiders here,” he told her. “At least none that would trouble
you.”

“Oh, I don’t
know, I think I’m looking at one.”

Adam clutched
at his heart and grunted. Chrissy wasn’t impressed by his mock
offence. As they stood on the threshold, she prodded him in the
chest.

“If you try and
cheat me one more time, Adam Campbell, I’ll deck you! I mean
it!”

Adam looked
even more hurt. “I wouldn’t dream of it! I may have been possessive
with the truth, even cunningly devious. But I have never cheated
you.”

Chrissy eyed
him closely. He looked very sincere, but she didn’t trust him one
bit.

“If you were a
kitchen utensil,” she said. “I bet you’d be a cork-screw. Now show
me your treasures. I want to see everything. And when you feed me,
I’m going to think very carefully about which treasure I’m going to
pick.”

“You wish a
tour of my humble home?”

“I want to see
every nook and cranny.”

“In that case,
I’ll show you the bedroom first. I want you to be very familiar
with it.”

As Charles put
the car away, Chrissy was taken on a tour of the house. As
promised, they started with Adam’s bedroom. It was the first of
five bedrooms on the first floor. It was modern, with an en-suite
bathroom, up to date furniture and a large king size double bed.
His wardrobe was full of suits and row upon row of shirts, ties,
and shoes. Everything was neat and tidy and well regimented. It was
very much a bachelor’s bedroom.

The next three
bedrooms were the same. All had en-suite bathrooms, and all were
neat and tidy, but with empty wardrobes.

“Guest
bedrooms,” Adam called them.

The last
bedroom was much more old-fashioned. The furniture was older, and
the wardrobe was filled with clothes from the fifties and sixties.
Chrissy was surprised to find both men and women’s clothes inside.
Adam quickly explained.

“This was my
father’s room,” he told her.

Chrissy pulled
out a woman’s dress from the wardrobe. It was short and bright and
very sixties. “So these must be your mother’s clothes?”

He nodded.
“Yes.”

“And you’ve
kept them all this time?”

“I have plenty
of room, and sadly, her remaining belongings are very few.”

Chrissy had
spotted another dress. It was white, and it was in a plastic cover.
She quickly replaced the first dress and pulled out the white one
and unzipped the plastic case.

“Don’t tell me
this was your mother’s wedding dress?” she exclaimed.

Adam nodded
again. “My father kept it. They had only been married eight years
when she died.”

Chrissy pulled
out the dress and held it against her body, looking at herself in
the mirror. Unlike the first dress, it was strapless, very long and
traditional. “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It suits
you.”

The tone of his
voice made Chrissy look up at him. His eyes were filled with
sadness, and something else.

Chrissy handed
him the dress and pulled her list from her pocket. She studied it
for a moment, and then announced, “Angola.”

Adam
immediately brightened. “Ah! I see you have been doing your
homework!” He returned the wedding dress to its cover, zipping it
up carefully.

Chrissy lowered
her list. “Do you know it or not?” she demanded.

“The
kwanza.”

“Sod! I was
sure that would get you. Afghanistan.”

Adam placed the
wedding dress back in the wardrobe and closed the door. “The
afgani,” he replied.

He led Chrissy
out of the bedroom. Further along the hallway was a bathroom on its
own. Chrissy glanced in at the pink bath and tiling and knew
instantly that it had been used by Adam’s mother.

Adam waited for
her outside. “I think we will have a quick peep in Charles’s room
before we return downstairs,” he said as soon as she
re-emerged.

Chrissy nodded.
“Okay. China.”

“The yuan.”
Adam took her hand and led her up another flight of stairs to
another floor.

Charles’s room
turned out to be a suite of rooms in the attic. Entry to the suite
was through a single door at the top of the stairs. The rooms
inside were not as tidy as the rest of the house, but they were
bright and pleasant, and lived in. There was a lounge, a kitchen, a
bedroom and a bathroom. Charles was in his bedroom in
shirt-sleeves, his jacket and hat on his bed. As soon as he saw
them, he quickly shooed them out.

“Be off with
you!” he said with mock severity, chasing them back down the little
corridor. “There is no place for sight-seer’s and day-trippers
here!” He closed the door on them, leaving them at the top of the
stairs.

Chrissy was
amazed. “Are you going to let him get away with that?” she
demanded. “Brazil.”

Adam laughed.
“Charles is his own master in his quarters. It is a rule we have
both agreed and adhered to. Cruzeiro.”

Chrissy sighed
and glanced at her list again. “Grenada,” she said as she followed
Adam downstairs.

“The
dollar.”

“Bulgaria.”

“The lev.”

They reached
the ground floor and Adam showed Chrissy the other rooms. The
lounge was the most lived in looking room she had seen outside
Charles’s flat on the top floor. There was a large fireplace with
comfortable looking easy chairs and sofas grouped in front of it,
with a large and decorative coffee table between them. There was
even a television and video on a table in the corner. Everywhere
were newspapers and magazines. The untidiness was somehow
comforting.

On the
mantelpiece above the fireplace were some photographs set in silver
frames. Chrissy went over to look at them, and quickly picked up a
picture of a young woman. The picture was in black and white, but
it was bright, and the woman was dressed in shorts with a shirt
tied at the front. It must have been summer. She was standing by an
open top sports car in front of a large house. Chrissy recognised
the house to be the one she was in. The woman was beautiful. She
was smiling, and her eyes were bright and expressive.

“This is your
mother, isn’t it?” Chrissy asked as Adam came to stand next to
her.

“Yes. My father
had bought her the lotus that day. It was bright red. She loved
it.”

“How old was
she?”

“Twenty-eight.
She died the following year. She always did drive it too fast.”

Chrissy put
down the photograph and picked up another. It had also been taken
in front of the house. “Is this your father?”

“Yes.”

“You look like
him.”

Adam nodded.
“So I have been told.”

“He looks older
than her. Was this taken at the same time?”

“It was, and
you are right. My father was thirty-four when they were married in
1959. She was twenty-one. Not much older than you. She died in
1967.”

Chrissy put the
picture down and sighed. “Okay, next room.”

The next room
was an office –the most untidy room so far. The desk was covered in
papers and files. On a table next to the desk was a personal
computer. It was still switched on, and the screen showed a
continuously upgrading list of figures.

“Exchange
rates,” Adam told her. “Money marketers never sleep.”

“Even on a
Sunday? Vietnam.”

“Even on a
Sunday. The dong. Somewhere in the world there is a stock exchange
open.”

The next room
was a drawing room with lots of books on shelves and three very
comfortable looking armchairs. There were also several silver
ornaments and vases dotted around, and an odd statue or two.
Chrissy immediately noticed the crest from the iron gates on the
silver vases.

“My treasures!”
Adam exclaimed, pointing them out.

Chrissy stared
at them. “I think your real treasures are all in your computer.”
She turned to look at Adam, her eyes narrow. She poked him in the
chest. “When I’m done with you, Adam Campbell, I think I’m going to
pick a bank account. An investment account, maybe. Something
offshore.”

Adam clutched
at his heart and staggered. “Ouch! Your greed and materialism
astounds me! Your future as a member of the Inland Revenue is
assured! Beating you is rapidly becoming a matter of saving my own
financial security. I shall be relived when I win.”

“Ethiopia!”
Chrissy snapped.

“The birr!”
Adam replied just as quickly.

“Damn!”

“Now that one I
don’t know!”

Chrissy made a
face at him.

After that came
a games room with a billiard table, and finally, the dining room.
The table was already set for lunch. It was a long table, but the
place settings were close together at one end. As Chrissy looked at
the silver cutlery and decorative plates, Charles suddenly appeared
with a white napkin over his arm.

“If you are
ready, Miss, Sir?” he said very politely.

Chrissy stared
at him for a moment before turning to Adam. “Is Charles your butler
as well as being your chauffeur?”

Adam smiled.
“Charles is my butler, chauffeur, foot-man, cook, chamber-maid, and
companion. He is the perfect gentleman’s gentleman.”

Chrissy shook
her head and smiled in amazement. “Well, I’ll take my knickers
off!” she exclaimed. “I’ve gone to sleep and woken up on the set of
Upstairs, Downstairs!”

Charles
coughed. “I beg your pardon, Miss, but in my opinion, I must point
out that you would never be downstairs.”

“Shut up!”

That was the
end of the tour of the house. Chrissy went back upstairs to the
pink bathroom for a quick wash up, and Adam went to his own
bathroom to do the same. They both met on the stairs on the way
back.

Adam smiled at
her. He seemed to do that often. “I make that thirty-one so far.
I’m feeling rather confident.”

“Finland!” she
snapped.

“The markka.
Thirty-two!”

Chrissy didn’t
rise to the bait a second time. “You’re a smug git, Adam Campbell!”
she told him. “But if you think you can get me to rattle off all my
chances in one day, then you’re sadly mistaken! I’m going to have a
serious think about my last eighteen countries, and I’m going to
win!”

When they
returned to the dining room, Adam waited for Chrissy to be seated
by Charles before taking his own seat next to her. Charles then
served the food.

All through
lunch, Adam made persistent but gentle hints about their wager,
trying his best to get Chrissy to present him with further
currencies to name. She steadfastly refused, and finally threatened
to hit him with a silver serving dish if he didn’t keep quiet. Adam
finally gave in, and the rest of the meal was accompanied by more
pleasant conversation.

Chrissy noticed
during the meal that the silver cutlery and the plates all had the
same crest on them as she had seen on the iron gates and silver
vases. This time she could see it more clearly. It was a shield
with a chevron on it, like a corporal’s stripe. Below the chevron
was a lion. Chrissy recognised it as the same lion that was on the
England football team’s shirts. Above the shield was a knight’s
helmet, and above that, another lion. On each side of the shield
and helmet were leafy like scrolls. There were some words, but
Chrissy couldn’t tell what they were. They were in Latin, and she
resisted the temptation to lift up her knife and squint at it
closer.

As they ate and
chatted, Adam smiled at her constantly, a devious twinkle in his
eye. He must know that she would notice. She would have to be thick
or blind not to. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction
of explaining it all to her. No, if Adam wanted her to know he had
a title, then he was going to have to tell her. She smiled back at
him, and talked about something else.

When the meal
was over, Chrissy and Adam moved into the lounge where Charles
brought them coffee. Chrissy took the opportunity to go through her
list. She produced a stub of a pencil and began crossing off the
countries she had already named. Adam watched her carefully as she
sat cross legged in one of the large easy chairs, her foot swaying
gently. She was sat opposite to him, the coffee table between
them.

“Are you
confident, my darling?” he said, sipping his coffee.

She nodded
without looking up.

“Are you
confident enough to increase the stakes of our wager?”

“What do you
have in mind?” Chrissy asked, still without looking up from her
list. “Would you like me to stick a flower between my teeth while
I’m wearing that red dress and sing ‘Ave Maria?’”

Adam laughed.
“I see that Charles has been giving you advice. I might give him
some advice in return, possibly on his P45.”

Chrissy
uncrossed her legs and put down her list. She leaned forward to
pick up her coffee. “That’s an idle threat. You’d soon starve to
death without Charles to cook for you.”

“I am more
independent than you think. But to continue. If you win, what would
you have me do?”

Chrissy drank
some of her coffee. She looked thoughtful for a moment, staring
into space. “Hmmm…how about you invite all your work colleagues
home one evening, and lie stark naked on that long dining room
table of yours with an apple in your mouth? That way everyone will
know what a male chauvinist pig you are.”

Adam put down
his cup of coffee and roared with laughter.

“Excellent!
Perfect! But in return your forfeit must be equally embarrassing!
So, my dear, what shall I ask you to do?”

Chrissy shook
her head and put down her cup. “I’m not doing anything.”

Adam was
outraged. “But you must! I have agreed to your terms, so you must
now agree to mine!”