It was the large nightgown syndrome all over again.

He said, "Who are you here with?"

And I said, "My friend Laura."

He said, "Can I join you?"

I said, "Of course."

Why not, I thought. He's entertaining and sweet and Laura will enjoy him.

Although he might be a bit old for her.

He steered me through the packed pub. I must say, people treated me with a lot more respect with him around.

I don't think I had more than one drop of alcohol spilled on me on my journey back from the bar as opposed to an entire brewery-full on the outward journey.

Very unfair, of course, but there we are.

We passed a crowd of people who seemed to know Adam.

"Adam, where are you going?" demanded one of the girls. Blond. Pink pouty mouth. Very young. Very pretty.

"I've met an old friend," he told her. "I'm going to have a drink with her."

I quickly scanned the crowd to make sure that Helen wasn't there.

Thankfully, I couldn't see her.

However, I did notice an older woman in among them, looking very anxious as Adam bypassed their little group. Could this be the poor lovesick Professor Staunton?

I was aware of several hostile looks. All from girls. It was almost funny.

Fuck them, I thought cheerfully. If only they knew, they have nothing to fear from me. My husband dumped me, I wanted to tell them, and he was only average good-looking.151.

I brought Adam over and introduced him to Laura.

She blushed.

So he did have this effect on every woman he met, I observed. And not just on the women in my family.

Somehow Adam found a spare seat.

He was that kind of guy.

"You're a terrible fibber." I smiled at him.

"Why?" he asked, opening his blue eyes very wide and looking all innocent and little-boyish.

"Telling that poor girl that I'm an old friend," I told him.

"Well, you are," he said. "You're old."

"As in 'older than me' kind of 'old,'" he told me hastily as he noticed my eyes starting to narrow. "And I only know that because I asked Helen what age you were. I thought you were much younger."

I just looked at him, thinking, I've got to hand it to him.

"And," he continued, "even though we've only met once before I feel like you're a friend."

Yes, I thought, he's definitely definitely redeemed himself. redeemed himself.

It was at this stage, Laura later told me, that she took off her underpants and lifted her skirt but that neither of us noticed. I don't believe her for a second, but I do believe I understand the point she was making.

Laura asked Adam how he knew me and he said, "I'm in college with Helen."

Laura gave me a look that said a lot. Something like, "Oh God no, a bloody student. We'll have to pretend to be interested in whatever boring subject he's studying."

"It's okay." He smiled at Laura. "You don't have to ask me what I'm studying."

"Oh," she said, a bit embarrassed. "In that case I won't."

There was a little bit of a pause.

"Well," said Laura, "I'm actually curious now."

"That wasn't my intention." Adam laughed. "But seeing as you've asked, I'm in first year doing English, psychology and anthropology."

"First year?" asked Laura with a raise of her eyebrows, obviously alluding to his-what shall we say-less than boyish demeanor.

"Yes," said Adam. "I'm a mature student. Or so they tell 152 me. I don't feel a bit mature. Only when I compare myself with my classmates, I suppose."

"Are they awful?" I asked, willing him to say yes.

"Not awful," he said. "Just young. I suppose somebody has to be. I mean, they're all seventeen or eighteen and they're all just out of school and they're only going to college to put off being responsible for another couple of years. Not because they have any great interest in learning. Or love of their subjects."

Laura and I had the grace to look extremely shamefaced as he said this.

Laura and Judy and I had been prime examples of the lazy, self-indulgent types he was describing.

"How awful for you," I murmured.

Laura and I smirked at each other.

"And how come you're going to college now?" I asked him.

"Well, I never wanted to go before. I never really knew what I wanted to do when I left school. So I did all the wrong things," he said intriguingly.

"And recently I've got my life back together. It was in a bit of a mess,"

he continued, even more intriguingly. "And now I'm ready for college. I really love it."

"Really?" I said, impressed by his maturity and his single-mindedness.

"Yes," he said.

Then he continued hesitantly, "I think I'm lucky to have waited until now. Because now I can really appreciate it. I think everyone should have to go and work for a couple of years before deciding whether they want to study some more."

"Is that what you did?" I asked him. "Did you work?"

"Sort of," he said abruptly, obviously not wanting to say anymore.

Curiouser and curiouser.

So squeaky-clean Adam has a Past.

Well, that's how he was making it sound.

I bet he's just trying to be all mysterious and create a myth around himself, I thought uncharitably. He's probably worked in the civil service for the past six years. Probably in the least glamorous department, like the livestock licensing one, if there is such a thing.153.

Laura asked Adam the second question that one always asks students.

(The first being, What are you studying?) "What do you want to do when you get your degree?" she asked.

I waited with bated breath.

Please God, oh please God, don't let him say he wants to be a writer or a journalist, I begged.

It would be just too much of a cliche.

I was starting to like and respect him, and this would ruin it entirely.

I put my hands together in prayer and sent my eyes heavenward.

"I'd like to do something with the psychology," he said. (Phew! I thought.) "I'm interested in the way people's minds work. I might like to be some kind of counselor. Or I might like to get involved in advertising.

And use the psychology that way," he explained. "Anyway, it's a long way away."

"And what about English?" I asked him nervously. "Don't you enjoy that?"

"Of course," he said. "It's my favorite. But I can't see myself getting a job out of it. Unless I want to try to become a writer or a journalist. And everybody wants to do that."

Thank God! I thought.

I'm glad that he likes it. I just couldn't bear to hear another person going on about how he wants to write a book. So we chatted pleasantly. Laura went to the bar to get more drinks.

Adam turned to me and smiled.

"This is great," he said. "It's so nice to have a bit of intelligent conversation."

I glowed.

Adam moved a little bit closer to me.

So I may not have the body of a seventeen-year-old but I can still entertain a man, I thought smugly.

"Adam, we're leaving now. Are you coming?"

The pretty blond girl appeared at Adam's side.

"No, Melissa, not yet. But I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?" said Adam.

It was obviously far from okay. Melissa looked outraged.

"But...I thought...aren't you coming to the party?" she asked, sounding as if she couldn't believe her ears.154.

"No, I don't think so," said Adam, a bit more firmly this time.

"Fine!" said Melissa, letting Adam know that it was far from fine. "Here's your bag." And she let a huge sports bag fall with a thud onto the floor.

She cast venomous looks at both Laura and me.

Puzzled but venomous.

She really couldn't understand what Adam was doing with two old bags like us when he could have had his pick of all the nubile seventeen-year-olds in the place.

Quite frankly, neither could I.

Melissa flounced away and Adam sighed.

"I couldn't stand it," he explained wearily. "Another student party. Cans of warm Heineken. And not being able to get into the bathroom because someone's having sex in there. And you leave your jacket on the bed and someone pukes on it. I'm too old."

I suddenly felt genuinely sorry for him.

I thought he was being sincere when he told me he was enjoying a bit of intelligent conversation.

It couldn't be easy to be surrounded by giggly excitable eighteen-year-olds like Helen and Melissa when you're a lot more grown-up than that.

And it also couldn't be easy, I realized, to have so many young girls in love with you. Not if you were a kind person, like Adam seemed to be, and didn't want to hurt or upset them. Sometimes, not that I'd know or anything, but being beautiful isn't all fun and games. You have to use your power wisely and responsibly.

For the next ten minutes or so a steady stream of young girls came over to say good-bye to Adam. Well, that was their pretext. Melissa had obviously reported back and they were really coming to see how hideous and old Laura and I were. I have to admit, if the tables were turned, I'd be one of the first over to criticize and ridicule the shoes, clothes, makeup and hair of the offending women.

As it happened, Laura looked beautiful, red curls, alabaster skin and nothing like her thirty years. I don't think I looked too awful either. But I'm sure that didn't stop anyone from saying how ancient we looked. And what did it matter?

Someone stuck a can under my nose and rattled it a bit.155.

"Would you like to make a contribution to children in need?" asked a harassed-looking man in a wet overcoat.

"Certainly," I said, and shoved a pound into the can.