It was when her grandfather said that particularly that Roz unaccountably and childishly first thought of Adam Milroy as a Prince of Darkness. Strangely, though, it increased his attraction.
Of course not even the most ardent daydreams last for ever, and by the time she was sixteen she had begun to understand that women, especially very young ones, were very susceptible to the idea that they would be the one to reform some wildly attractive, sophisticated and experienced older man.
But although she had acknowledged this ruefully and discovered that her crushes were transferable, it had all worried her obscurely. Until the night Mike, of all people, had asked her to dance at the Grade Eleven party and instead of teasing her about something or other had said very seriously and embarrassedly that he liked her dress and thought she looked nice, then all of a sudden things had come right. She was like every girl she knew, with a boyfriend of her own and starting to fall in love.
And she was able to dismiss the curious problem of Adam Milroy with the wry thought that she had actually met her version of Harrison Ford or Michael Douglas. ‘And now I’ve met him again,’ she murmured aloud as she switched off the light and slipped into bed. ‘Not that I’d be silly enough to even wonder, but life’s strange. Not, for that matter, that I’m likely to meet him for a third time …’
* * *
But the next afternoon Mrs Howard received a phone call that made her strangely thoughtful for a time, then she asked Roz whether her appointment with the solicitor was for the next morning or the day after.
‘The day after. Why?’
‘Well, Roz, that was Adam Milroy on the phone. He’s coming to see you tomorrow and he has some sort of a proposition for you—at least I assume so, because he asked me to ask you not to do anything about your grandfather’s estate until he’s seen you.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Roz said bewilderedly.
‘I’m not sure I do either,’ Mrs Howard said slowly. ‘But of course he does breed and race horses.’
Roz digested this and found it quite drove all other thoughts from her head. Including the nervous suggestion she had just been about to make to Mrs Howard that she should go home.
Much later that night she was to regret being deflected from that course, because Michael and his father had a row and it was impossible not to hear what was said in the heat of the moment.
‘You’re too young to even think of it, Mike! You haven’t had a chance to … look around, to grow up. Do you think I relish the thought of having slaved for years to give you a good education just to see you throw it over the moon for some girl? … How can you expect to cope with college and a wife? I’m not going to support the two of you. Mike, she’s not the one for you, she never will be, believe me, she’s not the kind I would want for a son of mine …’
Someone knocked on Roz’s door very early next morning, but guessing it was Mike she didn’t respond because she just couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard, and what could she say? So she waited until both Mike and his father had left the house and then went out, to find Mrs Howard sitting at the kitchen table looking unusually grim and pale.
‘I … I’ll go home today,’ said Roz uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry and I … I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.’
Mrs Howard pursed her lips, then motioned her to sit down and poured her a cup of tea. ‘Sorry is as sorry does, Roz, but I’m very angry, and I can’t deny that. Not with you, though.’
‘Who?’ Roz whispered.
‘Men.’
‘Mike?’
‘Mike’s not a man.’ Mrs Howard put the teapot down with a snap. ‘He’s a boy and he happens to be my only child, and I can’t believe his father—I just can’t believe him! To make such a fuss, such a dreadful issue of all this. I …I’m really so angry I don’t know what to do!’
‘Mrs Howard——’ Roz began tremulously, but was interrupted.
‘As if … as if it’s not perfectly natural for a nineteen-year-old boy to think the love of his life has come upon him—why not try to ride it out? Why go through this hell …’ She stopped and sighed. ‘Sorry, Roz. I suppose you think the love of your life has come upon you, but …’
She shrugged.
‘Mrs Howard,’ Roz began after a moment, then hesitated painfully.
‘Go on.’
Roz twisted her hands. ‘I can understand—well, that you think we’re too young. But he said I’m not the right one for Mike and never will be. Is it because he’s afraid I’ll be like my grandfather? Have some sort of a character flaw, like Grandad’s gambling?’