Reluctant Wife(24)

He raised an eyebrow‘ and looked amused, but said, ‘Good. Where is he?’



‘He lives next door. I’ve known him and his family for ages …’ She petered out nervously.



‘Then,’ Adam said consideringly, ‘couldn’t you stay with them for the time being?‘



Roz stared down at her hands ‘I was.‘



‘What went wrong?‘



‘Nothing! I… they’ve gone to a wedding up country, one of Mrs Howard’s nieces, but they’ll be back tomorrow.’



‘Do they … approve of you and their son?’ he asked after a moment.



She hesitated, then said with a sigh, ‘I think they think we’re too. young to… well …’



‘How old is this Mike?’



‘Nineteen—we’re nearly the same age. He’s studying commerce and has two years to go.’



There was silence, and it occurred to Roz that she had revealed her life history and nearly all her problems to a man she barely knew, who couldn’t possibly be interested anyway, and she said stiffly, ‘I’m sorry I don’t know why you came today, but I’m sure it wasn’t to listen to my troubles. By the way, why did you come?’



‘I met your grandfather at the races a couple of months ago. We’ve known each other for years on and off. I once bought a horse from him—that’s why I was here last time. But anyway, he told me about the Amanda Belle miracle and invited me to come and see her. I’d have come sooner, but a trip overseas intervened. That’s also why I didn’t know about his death, I only got back the day before yesterday.’



‘Oh… ‘



‘How did she die? From the effects of the fire?’



‘No, although she went into labour straight afterwards, but it was a haemorrhage. There was nothing we could do, it just,’ she closed her eyes, ‘was hopeless. She died with her head in my lap.’



Adam didn’t try to offer any sympathy, but his silence was oddly comforting, and she asked tremulously after a time, ”Would you like to see the foal?’



‘Very much’.



He was good with the foal and the old mare who had lost her own foal and was performing the services of wet-nurse.



‘What do you think?’ she asked.



He smiled slightly. ‘She’s a honey.’



Roz stroked the velvety nose and was playfully bunted in return. ‘I hope she doesn’t grow-up with a split personality,’ she said wryly. ‘I had to try to bottle-feed her for a few days and she still seems to think I’m good for a meal!’



This was demonstrated when they finally left the paddock and the foal looked almost humanly undecided and forlorn, until the old mare whickered and she skittered towards it with relief.



Adam Milroy laughed and Roz said, ‘See what I mean?’



He said nothing for a moment, then, ‘I do,’ soberly.



He left not long after that, commenting only on the fact that there seemed to be a storm on the way. Roz agreed a little worriedly, looking at the bank of boiling black clouds on the horizon because she had no stabling now for the mare and foal. And as she watched the beautiful maroon Jaguar drive away her mind was half on the possibility of converting the garage into a makeshift stall.



The speed with which the storm seemed to be approaching convinced her to do it rather than think about it, and she drove the utility out and parked it under the house, and was just struggling with a bale of straw to lay on the floor, when the maroon Jaguar drove up again.



She stared at it, but Adam Milroy wasted no words. ‘I came back because I just heard on the car radio that there’s a line of severe hailstorms headed this way that have wreaked havoc further inland.’ He stopped and with a sharp glance took in the situation. ‘Good idea,’ he said briefly, and heaved the bale of straw of the back of the utility as if it was a packet of flour. ‘I’ll do this while you round them up.’



A door on the veranda slammed in the rising wind and the afternoon was eerily dark now. Roz hesitated for only a bare moment before grabbing a headstall and lead and starting to run.



It was raining by the time she rounded up the old mare, who chose to be dithery, but when Adam loomed up he patted her neck briefly and thrust a hand through the headstall, skull-dragged her for a few paces until she decided she’d met her match and meekly and almost coyly followed him. Roz and the foal had to run to keep up.



When they reached the double garage doors, the mare again displayed some reluctance, but then sniffed the straw and was coaxed to go in, and Nimmitabel trotted in after her. Just as they closed the doors, the hail started. ‘Oh, your car!’ cried Roz above the growing cacophony on the old tin roof. ‘Drive it under the house—I’ll move some gear …’