‘Oh God,’ she whispered, and chewed at the tip of her forefinger, ‘have I been … very blind? Not known what was happening to me. Have I been tilting at windmills? How did this happen to me? Perhaps I have to go back to the beginning, that awful day two weeks after the fire …’
She had lived with her grandfather in his old-fashioned Queensland colonial house since she was ten. It was a wooden, rambling house with verandas all round, set on twenty acres west of Beenleigh, which laid claims to being a satellite suburb of Brisbane, but in those days, the days during which Roz had grown up, had escaped being a suburb of anything, just a backwater off the Pacific Highway between Brisbane and the Gold Coast. And they had been far enough out of town to qualify for being country anyway.
She’d grown up surrounded by horses, an eccentric grandfather who had cared for her greatly and imbued her not only with his love of horses but a curiosity about most things. And while his erratic gambling habits had ensured that they were never affluent except in short bursts, the old homestead was filled with beautiful, solid, very old furniture, faded but beautiful chintz coverings and hangings and a collection of copper and brassware that had been her grandmother’s passion. There were also books by the dozen, a lot of them spotted with mildew and from another era, but by the time she was fifteen, Roz had been thoroughly conversant with Jeffery Farnol, Mikhail Sholokov, Dorothy Sayers, and Josephine Tey among others,
After the first shock of grief for her parents, she had grown into her grandfather’s lifestyle amazingly well—she had always been the apple of his eye, he used to tease her. And as she’d grown up they had been friends as well as relations.
It had all ended in a blaze of orange flames and choking smoke, and the belated wail of a fire engine siren with an ambulance siren not far behind.
Two weeks to the day afterwards, a stranger had called on her, and what he had come to say had precipitated a lot of what had happened since. Roz remembered it all so clearly…
‘I can’t, and I don’t see how you can make me,’ Her voice rose shakily. ‘Just go away and leave me alone!’
‘Lady …’
I’ll ring the police if you come one step closer. It don’t even know you from a bar of soap. As for handing over a foal to You, You must be out of your mind!’
The man across the kitchen from her appeared to hesitate and his close-set eyes flickered over her in a way that filled her with revulsion. He was in his late a twenties, she judged, and strongly built, but if that and his horrible way of looking at her weren’t bad enough, what he had come to tell her was.
He chose now to repeat it. ‘Look, love,’ he said, ‘your grandpa owes me a lot of money. He bet with me on credit, see, and ran up quite a little account …’
‘Why did you let him?’ Roz, broke in intensely, and received a mocking look in return.
‘It’s my business, honey. But,’ he shrugged, ‘recently it began to get out of hand.’ He wasn’t settling even with his lack of usual promptness, so I spoke to him about it-leant on him a little,’ he said softly, and paused as Roz shivered. He continued with a small, satisfied smile,
‘That’s when he told me not to worry, he had a fortune coming his way. I said, oh yeah? He said yes and told me about this horse he’d bred.’
‘It’s barely two weeks old!’ Roz cried. ‘He had no way of knowing it would survive the birth-—the dam died. How could he?’
‘Well, he did, love. But as a matter of fact I took that up with him too. I also asked him if he was planning to sell it as a foal. He said once people knew the breeding he’d have no trouble doing that, only he’d rather not. But if the didn’t punt his way out of trouble, he’d sell a share in it, that’s what he said. Only he punted his way deeper into trouble, -that’s what! he did.’ Now,’ Roz backed as he moved closer and towered over her, ‘I, agree there’s a potential fortune in that foal. Potential, mind.. If you know anything at all about horses you”’ll also know there’s one hell of a lot can happen to them between the time they get born to the time they get to the races, if they ever do. But she’s a filly, so…’
‘But . . ‘
‘Let ‘me finish, little lady,’ the man said menacingly. ‘I’m prepared to take that filly foal off your hands and in exchange, wipe out all your grandpa’s debts.——in fact I reckon it’s the least you owe me, because in a sense, he was using her as collateral to bet with me, see what I mean? I also reckon it’s a generous offer on my part, because like I. said, filly or not, anything could go wrong——she might even take, half a lifetime to breed like her ma and I’d have nothing.’
‘And I, . . and in the meantime, I’ll have nothing,’ Roz stammered.
‘You got nothing now, lady,’ he sneered. ‘Apart from a mountain of debts. How do you think you’re going to rear the foal anyway? It all costs money. At least this way you’ll be relieved of some of your debts and you won’t have a flaming horse to feed. So think about it,’ he advised softly, then struck terror into Roz’s heart by adding, ‘only don’t take too long, sweetheart. Because it seems to me you’re a mighty desirable young lady and it might occur to me to up the ante——if you know what I mean.’
The way he looked her over again left Roz in no doubt as to his meaning, and she went white and stumbled back another step as the man loomed over her and put his arms out as if to take her into them.
‘No!’ she whispered frantically.
‘I agree,’ said a voice from behind them.
Roz’s tormentor whipped round, obscuring her vision, and she saw the muscles of his shoulders bunch up beneath his thin shirt and then relax, but with an effort of will. Then he stepped aside and Roz gasped, because the every last person she expected to see was lounging in the doorway and watching them dispassionately—Adam Milroy.
He straightened and said casually, ‘Menacing women and children might be up your street, Stan—I, can’t honestly say it surprises me—but it isn’t up mine. So beat it, mate, and if I were you I wouldn’t return.’
‘Well, well,’ drawled Stan Hawkins, ‘I wonder what brings you to this neck of the woods, Mr Milroy? Let me guess.’
‘Don’t bother, Stan,’ Adam advised, and moved aside. And although his words were mild enough there was something in his voice that sent a shiver down Roz’s spine.
It seemed to have a similar effect on Stan Hawkins, because he started to bluster then about having legitimate business with Roz, but as those dark eyes held his mercilessly, he ran out of steam and finally picked up his jacket and stormed out.
Roz stayed as still as a statue until she heard his car drive away, then she moved precipitously and dashed out of the kitchen door just in time and to her despair was sick in the flower bed below the steps.
‘I … I …’ she whispered.
‘It’s all right,’ Adam Milroy said prosaically. ‘Why don’t you go inside and have a wash while I find a spade.’
‘But …’
‘No buts. Actually,’ he smiled at her, ‘I’m quite used to this. I have a sister who gets car-sick, plane-sick—I suspect she could get sick on a bicycle if she put her heart and soul into it! Off you go.’
Roz hesitated painfully, then took his advice.
He must have found a spade pretty quickly because he was back in the kitchen before she was and he’d put the kettle on and some toast into the toaster.
‘I …’ she began.
‘Sit down,’ he ordered.
‘I … I’ll make it,’ she said with an effort. ‘I’d rather.’
Adam Milroy looked at her thoughtfully and then smiled, a battened-down version, but all the same … Then he sat down and said, ‘I’m Adam, by the way, and I believe we’ve met, but it was years ago and I can’t remember your name, though I’ve got the feeling it was something unusual.’
‘Rozalinda… er … but everyone calls me Roz, with a z.’
He raised his dark eyebrows. ‘I was right.’
‘It was my father’s idea. I don’t know why.�
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‘Roz,’ he said slowly.
The toast popped up and the kettle whistled and she didn’t have to say anything more until she’d set out the tea things. In fact, when she tried to speak then, he motioned her to eat and drink first.
‘Now,’ he said at last, ‘I didn’t hear all of that unpleasant conversation, but I gather some disaster befell your grandfather?’
She told him, haltingly at first, and then like a rising tide that could not be stemmed it all came out—including her anguish that her grandfather, beloved as he had been, could have virtually gambled away Amanda Belle’s precious foal.
‘It’s like a disease, my dear, ’ Adam Milroy said quietly.
‘But he was so wonderful in every other way!’
‘I know. So,’ his dark gaze flickered over her, ‘you’ve been left in dire straits, young Roz. How old are you?’
‘Nineteen, nearly,’ she said indistinctly as she swallowed the last of her tea. ‘And I don’t mind being left with nothing so much, but the thought of having to hand Nimmitabel over to that … that man …’
‘Nimmitabel?’ he interrupted. ‘Oh, I get it. Mount Kosciusko, the Snowy Mountains, Nimmitabel which is in that area and also reflects Amanda Belle.’ He smiled. ‘Well chosen, but there’s no question of you having to hand the foal over to Stan Hawkins.’
‘Then why did he come?‘ Her blue eyes were round.
‘Because he hoped to frighten you into doing just that, probably,’ Adam Milroy said grimly. ‘Although legally …’ he shrugged. ‘He could have had a crafty plan up his sleeve to backdate the transaction. What’s the situation on this place?’ He looked around.
‘Mortgaged,’ Roz said tearfully.
‘And your grandfather had other debts apart from bookmakers?’
She nodded. ‘The feed merchant, the vet She gestured helplessly.
‘And he left it all to you?’
She said sadly, ‘He didn’t plan to die!’
‘I know. I meant, are you his sole beneficiary?‘
‘Oh. Yes.’
‘All right. Adam Milroy drummed his fingers on the table, then said interrogatively, ‘Do you know what happens now?’
Roz tried to think. ‘There’s been so much … I had to scour the countryside for a wet-nurse for the foal, the funeral, all the injured horses . . But I’ve been in touch with the solicitor who has the will. I’ve an appointment with him and he said he’d explain it all to me.’
‘I can tell you. Creditors of a … deceased person are entitled to make claims against their estate. Now if the claims exceed the cash available then the assets of the estate, if there are any, have to be put up for sale and the proceeds divided among the creditors. Stan Hawkins would have known all this, which is why, no doubt, he was so eager to get his hands on the foal beforehand,’
‘Oh yes, I see,’ Roz said slowly. ‘So that means Nimmitabel will have to go up for auction?’
‘Yes, it does,’ he said, rather gently. ‘I imagine, from what you’ve told me, she is about, the estate’s only unencumbered asset. I don’t suppose she’s in your name, by any chance?’
Roz shook her head; ‘He was going to make me a partner in the foal, but . .’
‘Yes. Well, as to what price she would bring, that’s rather hard to say. Kosciusko progeny don’t come cheap and there’s not been one yet, to my knowledge, that could top off the breeding of this foal; But there’s also a lot hanging in the wind, as they say. The executor appointed in the will—and I presume there’s one if the will has been properly drawn up—might well decide to . . make other arrangements for the foal, because all these things take time.’
She flinched visibly and he looked at her keenly.
‘You do have yourself to provide for, Roz. Do you have a job?’
She shook her head; ‘Not really. I’ve been working part-time at a saddlery shop in Beenleigh, but it’s closing down soon; Other than that I was Grandad’s strapper. But, I…’ her voice shook, ‘I’m sure I could find something else.’
He sat back and said sceptically, ‘Perhaps. Don’t you have any other relations?’
‘No. Not close, anyway.’
‘And did you never, dream of doings anything else with your life other than helping your grandfather with his horses and working part-time in a saddlery shops?’
Roz bit her lip at the rather sardonic note in his voice. Then she said quietly but steadily, ‘Yes, I have. I’ve dreamt of travelling, learning more about so many things—art, music, cookery … I’d like to be able to understand how the economy works and how computers work, and I‘d love to really delve into old-fashioned herbal remedies. I’d like to be able to remove the threat of nuclear wars forever and have lots of children. I love horses and I always. will, but …’ She stopped and coloured, because he was looking at her with a curious intentness. ‘I mean.’ She shrugged awkwardly.
‘Don’t look embarrassed. That was rather well said and I’m sorry if I sounded patronising.’ He grimaced, then added, ‘On top of it, you’re unusually lovely, which has already caused you some problems.’
Roz flushed brightly this time. Not because his thoughtful gaze in any way resembled Stan Hawkins’, rather it was the totally dispassionate sort of appraisal with which a good judge of horseflesh might sum, up at yearling filly. But it did have something to do with that; while her looks didn’t seem to particularly appeal to boys of her own age they did to older men—not, she amended to herself, that she could possibly attract Adam Milroy, but he had obviously discerned this curious fact. Of course Mike was different, Mike knew her.
But its had puzzled and disturbed her, and she had even discussed it with her grandfather, how no one at school apart from Mike had ever taken a great interest in her, whereas she was increasingly subject to the kind of looks from older men which made her hotly uncomfortable.
‘It takes a bit of age and experience to recognise the kind of quality you have, Roz,’ he had said slowly, and chewed his lip rather worriedly. ‘Also when you’re a bit shy—well, teenage boys are often great big shy hulks themselves and don’t know how to handle it. That’s why they go for the bolder ones. But don’t you worry your head about it. You’ve got years before you need to.’
Not years, she thought ironically, now. And then the other factor to make me feel uncomfortable is that once upon a time, half a lifetime ago, or so, it seems, I met Adam Milroy and had some rather dramatic daydreams about him.
She bit her lip and realised that the same Adam Milroy was sitting across the table from her, staring at her quizzically. ‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ she said quickly.
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 miracl
e 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.’
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